"We won't get any progress made with the dragonballs if we keep having to make detours."

It was sunrise, and Bulma had been the one to wake Vegeta up for a change. Consciousness had come to her in the most dreadful way, all of the anxiety from the night before hitting her at full force. The "fight or flight" mechanism instilled in her core was spiraling like mad, leaving her in a mixed state of feeling both helpless to circumstance and that she had the responsibility of the world on her shoulders. The Bluehead had done the only thing she could think to do in that moment, and her way of handling these emotions was by shaking Vegeta awake and insisting that they needed to go pay Chi-Chi a second visit as quickly as possible.

"That child already gave us his dragonball, and they made it clear that they don't care what you say." Vegeta grunted irritably. "It would be better use of our time to just resume our search before anything happens."

"I have a terrible feeling, though." Bulma replied. "We have to go back and try again. Something awful is going to happen to them at any minute, I just know it."

"And then what?" Vegeta stood from the couch and began to make his way towards the bathroom. "So, you say we should fly all the way out there? And if something happens while we are there? When that lady is throwing plates at you again? What do you think will become of you if those teenagers show up while you're having another argument with Kakarot's mate?"

He had a point. A dreadfully good one. Bulma bit her lip, unable to think of a comeback that would be convincing enough for her case.

"They had their chance, and a joke was made out of it." The saiyan continued. "You aren't going to risk finding yourself in harm's way simply because that Woman was being difficult yesterday."

"But I can't-"

Vegeta had stopped in the doorway to the bathroom before turning towards the Bluehead, shooting her a no-nonsense scowl. "Do not tell me that you can't sit around without trying, Bulma. You did try yesterday. You tried with Kakarot's family, and you tried with your own. They all ignored you, and now we are going to move on. Do you understand?"

"You're being really heartless." She shot back. "I don't get how you can be so casual about everything. If we know something terrible is going to happen, then why shouldn't we do all we can to prevent it?"

"Perhaps you should consider that I am avoiding an even worse tragedy by telling you not to go back to that house." Vegeta scoffed. And, with that, he disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him.

And that was simply that, with nothing else to be said. Bulma had to really concentrate in order to even get a determination on how to feel about Vegeta's strict proclamation. She was tempted to be angry at him - to stubbornly insist that he wasn't at liberty to tell her what she could and couldn't do. She even considered taking off while he was still bathing, for him to only find out she was gone once he finished and walked back into the living room.

But none of that sat right for her. His reasoning for not wanting to go back was stubborn, yet he'd said it was for her. How could she hold that against him? How could she yell at him when he was trying to protect them both, and he even made such logical points with what he said?

Instead of using her time alone to plan an argument, the Bluehead decided to swallow down her own pride. This didn't help with the quivering anxiety that had her wanting to both throw something in the air and pass out, so she chose to distract herself by putting together a quick breakfast for the both of them. By the time Vegeta emerged from the restroom, clean and refreshed after his hot shower, Bulma had managed to calm herself down from borderline hysteria.

She watched him pensively as he eyed his plate from across the room. Without speaking a word, he trailed over to the table and took a seat. He immediately began to feast as if he'd been starved for days, not showing any sign that he even had their earlier conversation on his mind.

And that was simply that.

Without another exchange about whether or not she should continue trying to convince everyone to leave before the teenagers got them, Vegeta and Bulma finished their breakfast in silence. Then, after a quick phone call to wish her parents well, they packed up for the day and set off in the bright pink jet.

.

Two days later, Gohan was sitting in his room and staring at the textbook in front of him. Math was a subject that he typically excelled at, but he hadn't been doing very well in any of his classes lately.

It had really started back when his father got sick. When Goku fell ill, everyone's life seemed to be put on hold. Nobody wanted to go a minute without being in Goku's company, and that included his closest friends. The small hut that the family of three were hardly able to live in comfort as it was had become even more cramped. All sorts of guests came and went to speak their peace to Goku in case the conversation was also a "goodbye". But the three individuals that did not leave until the very end had been Miss Bulma, Mr. Krillin, and Mr. Yamcha.

Gohan's mother had always been nice to those three, though it was more of a begrudging tolerance than it was a genuine pleasantry. The adolescent had heard the things his mother had griped about out loud when she thought she was alone. He'd heard her grievances with all of his father's friends.

The time during which Goku was sick had been a phase where everyone's routine had completely dissipated. Gohan didn't so much as even open a textbook while his father was bedridden, and Chi-Chi had been so beside herself with worry for her ailed husband that she didn't seem to notice.

And when Goku finally passed, Miss Bulma, Mr. Krillin, and Mr. Yamcha made their exit. However, this didn't necessarily mean that things were to simply go back to normal. It had been hard for Gohan to get back in the swing of things after his father died, but after several weeks he had more or less been making due with the emotions swirling through his mind. His efficiency in school was nowhere near as productive as it had been before tragedy struck the Son family, but with time it seemed to be on its way back up.

At least, that was how things had been going. These last two days, though, had been a completely different story.

How could he focus on school when Miss Bulma's ominous warning had been so terrifyingly real? There was no reason to doubt anything she'd said, and it felt completely mad to just go on as if nothing had happened.

Chi-Chi may have shot Miss Bulma down out of spite, but Gohan didn't have any of the harbored emotions that his mother did. He knew his Mom well enough to understand that she resented Goku's friends for how much he seemed to prioritize his time with them. Gohan could distinctly remember that, throughout his childhood, it had been a grief of hers. Chi-Chi had always indignantly complained when Goku would disappear for days - sometimes even weeks - to train or do some other miscellaneous task with his friends.

There had been several times that Goku had tried to take Gohan along, but Chi-Chi had never allowed it. Not that it stopped him – there were times that Goku had snuck his son out of the house when Chi-Chi had been distracted by something. When those instances occurred, her reaction was so strong that she nearly became violent with her husband just to get her point across. Her standing was that Gohan needed to focus on school so that he could provide for a family of his own someday. And, with how intensely Goku took his "training" and "sparring", Chi-Chi seemed to worry that this was genetic. Perhaps just one small taste of Goku's physical habits would derail all of her plans for her only son.

Now sat Gohan, staring blankly at the workbook in front of him as he listened to his mother cooking something on the other end of the hut. He hadn't been able to interpret any of his schoolwork at all since the visit from Miss Bulma. He hadn't even been able to fall asleep at night.

With a sigh he pushed himself back from his desk. And he decided to do something he'd been dreading for more than 48 hours.

He was going to try to talk to his Mom.

.

Chi-Chi was rinsing out a pot so she could boil some carrots in it when Gohan came stepping into the kitchen. Even if he wasn't the only other person living in their small house, she would have known it was him just by his footsteps. She could recognize them from anywhere. He always took such careful steps, as if he worried his feet might break the tiles he walked on.

"Mom?"

She turned off the tap before turning to her son, who was looking at her shyly from the doorway. "What's the matter?"

"I've been thinking..." He began quietly. "Do you think we should maybe consider what Miss Bulma told us the other day?"

She sighed at this, dropping her pan into the sink. "I've been thinking about that too."

"You have?"

"Yes..." She sighed. "I shouldn't have yelled at her the way I did... Something about the way she showed up just set me off... I can't explain why..."

"It was kind of harsh." Gohan replied, letting out a breath of air that he had been holding in. "She was just trying to help us, I think... I don't know if we should have sent her away like that."

"Yeah, well... she came uninvited." Chi-Chi sounded somewhat defensive now, trying to somehow justify her behavior even though she knew it'd been unnecessary. "And seeing her just brought up a lot of memories. It didn't help that she showed up with that man. I mean – I just lost my husband, and she's going to come to my door and flaunt some new guy in front of me? It's all great for her to have a new lover at her side, but what about me? I just lost mine. My husband is dead!"

"I don't think she was-"

"He looked so similar to your father, too. It was as if they could have been cousins! What was up with that? It was like a slap in the face when I saw him. Why would she be so insensitive at a time like this?"

"I - "

"Oh, I just don't know what to do. I think we might should leave, but I don't want to go with her. Why couldn't it have been anyone other than her? We've never really gotten along, you know… All of your father's friends are such bad influences on you…"

"I don't get it." Gohan blinked. His mother was acting surprisingly remorseful, but he was still careful about what he said. It would be very easy to set her off if he spoke the wrong thing. So he chose not to even ask his mom about her hostility, and instead presented her with the opportunity to elaborate on her own.

She didn't.

"If Bulma decides to come back, maybe we should take her up on her offer?" The boy suggested.

"Maybe we should, dear." Chi-Chi sighed. "Maybe we should… But I don't think she'll be coming back any time soon… Would you?"

"Then maybe we should just leave on our own. We can go into the city for a few days, can't we?"

"No, honey, we can't do that either. Where will we find the money? It'll take us a full day to get to the city on foot, and then we won't even have the means to buy food or seek shelter once we get there."

Gohan sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. His mother had recently trimmed it to a short cut, but it was always quick to grow. His locks would be back down to his shoulders in no time…

"Perhaps I should call her." Chi-Chi groaned. "Oh – I really don't want to. I was the one to kick her out - I'll look like such an idiot if I give her a call and beg her to come back."

"She seemed really worried." Gohan replied. "Maybe she'll just be happy to hear from us."

Chi-Chi swallowed down a lump in her throat and turned towards the landline phone that was hanging on the kitchen wall. She began to make her way for it, but she noticed a shadow passing by the window above the sink. "Oh?" She said softly. "Someone's here… Well, let's both hope it's that girl we were just talking about."

Someone was here?

Gohan couldn't even force a smile at his mom's comment. He swallowed down a dry gulp. A pit had suddenly formed in his stomach. It felt like a large stone, preventing him from the ability to speak. He wasn't feeling nearly as hopeful as his mother about who it was at the door…

..

Locating the fifth dragonball had been proving to be more difficult than Vegeta and Bulma had predicted.

It wasn't just that they had flown to the other end of the planet. That had been more annoying than anything else, but such a task was easily done when they had the means to transportation. What had proven to be the difficult part had been the change of air.

Vegeta and Bulma had departed from an environment that was just as humid as it was hot. Such weather had motivated the Bluehead to utilizing a wardrobe that consisted primarily of cropped shorts and small shirts that would let her skin breathe and appreciate the warmth surrounding her. The heat of the season was something that Bulma had grown accustomed to, which lead to her doing something that she considered to be a "rookie mistake".

It wasn't until they grew closer to their destination that the Bluehead realized just how terrible she'd been at planning for the trip.

Ice crystals had formed on the edging of the plane's windows during the last few hours of the flight, indicating just how chilly it was becoming outside. Clad in only a thin pair of shorts and a spaghetti strapped shirt, Bulma was hugging herself to keep warm long before the plane had even landed. And she stood by the jet's door now, glancing through the window and at the icy terrain outside.

"I can't go out there like this." She breathed, teeth clattering violently as she furiously rubbed her hands up and down her arms. "I'll get hypothermia. Or frostbite. You know, I'll get both."

Vegeta was standing by her side, studying the snow that was flowing past the window. "It doesn't look that bad."

"Are you k-kidding?" The Bluehead said, but she knew the answer to her own question without having to receive an actual response. Homeostasis had now set in on her body, and her muscles were starting to shiver. Her voice was quivering as she spoke now, her teeth clattering together even when she wasn't speaking. She was having a hard time getting her tongue to work as well as she was used to. All her instincts wanted her to do at that moment was to curl up into a tight ball to try and retain any body heat she had left. "How can you not be b-bothered? You hardly have a-a-any more clothes on your skin than I do!"

"It's a bit irritating, but I'll survive."

"How?" Her teeth chattered. "G-Goku used to get c-c-cold! I-"

"Kakarot must not have acclimated his body, then. I've been on too many planets to count, some of which were so far away from the nearest star that it never even saw the light of day. Do you think that was warm? I will survive this."

"Jeez! Is there a-a-" Bulma shook her head, a violent chill running down her spine. "Is t-there anything you aren't p-perfect at?!"

"Of course not." The saiyan replied, a smirk lining his lips. "Hm - It's good that you finally recognize my perfection. Just give me the dragon radar. I will go fetch the ball."

With a trembling arm, Bulma handed it to him. "Just d-don't take t-too long. We don't want the r-radar to freeze..."

"You feel like a shard of ice." The saiyan growled, his fingers grazing her palm as he took the device from her. "You weren't exaggerating about your body temperature."

Her body was trembling now more than ever, and her jaw was stubbornly clenched against her own will. At this point she didn't see the need to speak unless it was absolutely necessary, so Bulma simply nodded sheepishly at Vegeta's observation.

"Shall I get your something to keep you warm while I'm out? Surely there must be a furry animal around that I can skin for you." Vegeta suggested. "That might suffice to keep your body temperature above freezing."

That was one of the sweetest, most disgusting things that she had been offered in a very long time. The Bluehead restrained from making a face that exhibited her repulsion at the idea of bundling under a blanket made of raw animal skin and fur. Instead she smiled, shaking her head. "I'll b-b-be fine."

"You will not." The saiyan grunted. "You'll be dead by the time I return."

"No I won't!" Bulma snapped. "I'm going t-to… I'll run a h-ho-hot bath and s-soak."

"Hm." Vegeta turned back to look out the window once again. "Perhaps that will work. The house does have a heating system. Let me see the capsule. I will escort you inside to make sure you don't freeze in the snow on your way."

How feeble did he think she was? She couldn't even run herself a bath on her own, now?

It was like her body was shutting down in order to preserve energy and stay warm. Had the Bluehead not been feeling so weak, she might have hissed something about her capability to take care of herself. But this wasn't the time for such a thing, so instead she retrieved the capsule from her bag and handed it to the saiyan - just as she had done with the dragon radar.

"Alright. Step back so you don't get hit by the wind." Vegeta commanded, and when Bulma had retreated into the cockpit he made his move. He threw open the door to the plane, snow and ice crystals wafting inside the vehicle as he did so. He threw the capsule out into the white land, waiting for the house to appear in place of the consequential cloud of smoke.

Then he turned for the Bluehead, who was eying him curiously from the pilot's chair as he moved towards her...

... When Vegeta had used the term "escort", Bulma had imagined that he would be walking by her side as she marched through the cold. She'd pictured him standing by in case she fell over or something on her way.

It had taken her by surprise, then, when Vegeta hoisted her into his arms in order to carry her instead.

His own body acting as a shield against the wind, Vegeta did just that. Holding her so easily, as if she weighed no more than a turnip, the saiyan quickly flew them both towards the capsule house. They made it to the door and were inside in only two seconds, but Vegeta didn't set her down until he had carried her into the bathroom.

The central heating system of the house was set up so that it would automatically click on based on the temperature outside, and in each room there was already a pleasant warmth hissing in through the vents.

"There." Vegeta said, placing her on her feet in front of the bathtub. "Now there is no reason why you shouldn't stay alive while I am out."

The Bluehead didn't respond. The prospect of a steaming bath was suddenly as desirable as water might be to someone who had been lost in a dessert for three days. She immediately turned for the tub and switched on the faucet, the loud noise of the running tap echoing through the room.

"Alright." Vegeta grunted, stepping back towards the door. "I will be back."

The heat from the tub was radiating through the room, and Bulma was no longer shivering as badly as she had been before. She had already kicked off her shoes and was now grabbing at the hemline of her shirt. Her back was turned to the saiyan, and she paused just before she began to pull the material up. "Vegeta?"

"What?"

She glanced at him from over her shoulder. A smile was on her face as she watched him, excitement glowing in her eyes. "Thanks. What you just did for me just now was really wonderful."

Oh, great!

The saiyan scowled as if she had just said something foul. "All I did was carry you to the bathroom, Woman! Don't act as if I did anything upstanding."

"Well, not everyone would have cared enough to do that for me." She replied with a shrug.

"Whatever." The saiyan grumbled. He stepped further into the doorway, still eying her as he went. Bulma seemed to accept his departure, for she turned back towards the tub and excitedly continued to remove her clothing. Under her shirt she unhooked her bra before allowing it to drop to the floor.

She wasn't acting timid in the least, he noted. It was as if she assumed that he was already gone!

He wasn't though, and just before he turned away he received a view at her bare back when she ripped her shirt off. Her arms above her head as she pulled, he caught a glance of the side of a fleshy breast as it bounced back from being released from the confining material.

… The way it seemed to swing back before she lowered her arms had been hypnotic. Kami – Vegeta was surprised he even had been able to turn away after seeing something as intoxicating as that.

The image played over in the saiyan's mind as he made his way back across the house, cursing himself for not leaving that bathroom sooner. Now he was going to be afflicted with yet another thing to add to his fascination with the Bluehead!

'Dammit!' He thought as he stepped back into the blizzard outside. That damned Woman and her damned carelessness! He had seen her scantily clad in a bikini weeks earlier, during the night when he'd had that frustrating run in with the giant sea creature. That had done enough to it as it was. But time had passed. It had taken weeks, but he had willed the image to fade into something less distracting on his mind.

Yet here it was again, that overwhelming attraction that was hitting him again at full force. This time he wasn't so capable of pushing the thoughts away. Now thingswere different – he was used to the idea of being so fond of her, even if he wasn't necessarily happy about having such feelings for her.

Part of him was even delighted at what he'd just seen. The same side of his mind that told him to keep her as content as possible was now ecstatic. This time he wasn't going to be so able to forget about what he'd seen of her body, and he wasn't sure if he even wanted to.

Not when her torso had been completely naked in front of him. Not when he couldn't stop thinking that, had he stuck around a few seconds longer, he might have gotten a sight of her lower half...

No, he couldn't just forget that she had been undressing in front of him!

Not when it had been her...

Vegeta pulled the dragon radar out of his pocket and clicked it to life. He glared at the screen, trying to make sense of the flashing dot on it.

How was he going to be able to concentrate on finding the ball when his mind was so overridden?

.

A habit had been made out of not being able to fall asleep unless she'd been having a long conversation with Vegeta. Bulma didn't realize it at the time, but it had started the very night he had shown up as a bloody mess at the door. The comfort she felt when she had dozed off while speaking to him on the couch was something that resonated deeply within, and that had carried over to the following evening when he had soothed her to sleep once again in her bed.

The pattern hadn't ended there. In fact, it had only grown stronger. In the two days since, he had talked her to sleep each night. It had quickly become one of her favorite parts of the day, even though it had been less than a week since the routine had started. Bulma wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to go back to simply easing herself to sleep after all getting used to Vegeta being by her side. The thought of even trying just left her with the sensation that something would be missing from that scene.

The Bluehead had been in an unyielding state of anxiety ever since the encounter with Chi-Chi. Her mind couldn't determine who to worry about more, and she was stuck in a limbo of distress for both Goku's family and her own. These thoughts only got worse during moments when she was alone. When she was by herself and didn't have anything to distract her. It just didn't seem like a possibility to fall asleep like that. It was much easier to announce that she was ready for bed, and to ask Vegeta if he'd come speak to her.

Bulma hadn't been so sure if she would ever be capable of falling sleep on her own again. But as she sank into the steaming hot tub she realized that, under certain circumstances, she really could. Her body was so relieved in that moment that she didn't even have to try. In the aftermath of being so numbingly cold there was none of the anxiety that had become so typical for her.

She was too distracted with thoughts of how sweet Vegeta could be to get anxious. And her body was simply too relieved at even being alive to care.

Bulma didn't know how long it had taken for her to drift out of consciousness, nor did she have any idea of how long she had slept for. But when she woke to the sound of a rustling at the entrance of the house, she realized it must have been well over an hour.

The bath water she sat in was now only lukewarm. Her hair had grown sweaty at some point, the blue locks that were loose from her ponytail now glued to the sides of her face.

Bulma knew by the sounds of the footsteps in the den that the person in the house was Vegeta. And when they stopped just outside the bathroom door, her assumption was quickly confirmed. "Are you still in there?" He called, sounding more irritable than she'd been expecting.

"Of course I am." She replied with a yawn.

"Well, make yourself presentable. I'm coming in."

She was still feeling lethargic from her nap. Also feeling sarcastic from the tone in Vegeta's voice, Bulma simply crossed her legs and slapped an arm over her bosom. "Okay." She called lazily, stifling another yawn. "You can come in."

The knob turned slowly, and the door clicked open with a small pop. The saiyan had a look of rage on his face as he stepped inside, holding the dragon radar in one hand as he went. His demeanor didn't last though, for when he saw the Bluehead at the other end of the bathroom he stopped in his tracks.

Looking as if he'd seen a spirit's apparition, some of the olive color faded from his cheeks. His eyes went from being bitterly furrowed, to wide and startled. "What is this?" He hissed."I told you to make yourself presentable!"

"I did." Bulma sighed groggily. "What do you need so bad that it can't wait?"

"I expected you to wrap a towel around yourself!" He croaked. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Bulma lazily bobbed her head down so she could look at her own body. Sure, she might have been naked, but she was doing a well enough job at covering all of her explicit parts. It wasn't anything he hadn't already seen before when she had been in her swimsuit a few weeks prior. The only thing missing was the actual bikini. "It's not like you can see anything, Vegeta. It's fine, I just didn't feel like getting out of the bath yet."

"What do you mean it's fine?!" The saiyan snapped, though some of the ferocity was fading from his tone. He just couldn't rip his eyes off of her, and he had been trying for several seconds now. "I can see plenty!"

"I already told you I'm not ready to get out yet." She replied carelessly. "Well, what did you want so bad that it couldn't wait, anyway?"

"Huh?" The saiyan licked his lips dryly, now appearing to be even more caught off guard than he had been a moment earlier. He looked down at his hand to see the dragon radar he was holding, and he tightened his grip on it. "Oh - right. This damned thing is busted." It came out more as a question than the hostile announcement he had initially planned. Having completely forgotten about it a moment ago, the saiyan held the device up to eye it carefully. As if he might gain his composure in doing so. Kami, he was in a state of shock – wasn't he?! That was it – that had to be why his mind was suddenly so useless!

"Is it really?" Bulma twisted in the bathtub so her torso was now against the edge of the tub. This didn't help matters, for now she was presenting a clear view of the curves of her hips and the side of her rear. She reached an arm out for the towel that was hanging from the nearby rack, but it was still too high for her to get a good grip. "I told you that might happen. It's probably just frozen. Hey, could you hand me that towel?"

Still feeling dumbfounded, Vegeta obediently stepped across the room until he was standing just above the Bluehead in the tub. He grabbed the fuzzy fabric and handed it to her stiffly, which she happily accepted.

The saiyan tried his damndest to keep from looking at her from this new point of view, he really did. But try as he might, he just couldn't stop himself from giving her a long side-eye. His pupils trailed down the skin of her body, taking as much as he could in. By the time he finally turned and made his way back out into the den he felt as if his lungs were going to explode.

He heard the water's trickles as she stood from the bath. He listened to the resulting splash as she shot a hand to the bottom of the tub to release the drain. 'What an idiot she is!' He thought, rubbing at his temples and trying to free his mind of the memory of what he'd just seen. It had been bad enough that he'd hardly managed to keep a straight head when he'd been looking for the dragonball just now. Even if the radar hadn't stopped working on him, the saiyan hadn't been doing very well before then.

But this?!

No longer was he infuriated with the fact that he'd just wasted nearly two hours on a failed attempt at searching for the ball. No longer was he so eager to go on a verbal rant to the only person who would listen and offer some witty response. Now all he could think of was the Woman he had grown rather fond of that was currently in the other room. All he could concentrate on was the fact that he had just seen more of her than he had ever imagined he would. And she had allowed it.

She had caused it!

He thought back on the vow he had made to himself years earlier when he had still been a teenager. The disgust he had felt with himself after indulging in an unworthy body that had eagerly presented itself to him. The repulsion, the shame. The strong realization that, if he couldn't have another saiyan's flesh, then he much preferred having nothing at all.

And, for the first time since making such a vow, Vegeta was quickly realizing that he wasn't so sure if this was a promise he would be able to keep.