This is a short chapter, but it's actually a chunk taken from a larger piece I've been working on. The next chapter will be much longer, but it was getting to the point that I decided it was best to split it into two. There is one scene in particular that I have been struggling to write for weeks, and I didn't want it to delay me from posting an update any more. As soon as that scene is smoothed out, you'll be seeing another update. :) Thanks for being patient with me!

Just as she had done when she'd been working on the Gravity Room, Bulma completely threw herself into her work on that spaceship. This time, however, she had the help of her father by her side. She had listened to the saiyan's requests about taking better care of herself, and Bulma made sure to allot three breaks each day in order to eat. After her meals, though, she was always quick to scamper back down and continue her work. For days the Bluehead and her father stayed huddled downstairs together, slaving tirelessly until nighttime fell and Dr. Briefs retreated back to the Capsule house. Even when left her alone, it was routine for Bulma to continue working until it got so late that Vegeta would quite literally drag her to bed.

In the meantime, what more did Vegeta have to do other than train? While the Bluehead and her Dad worked so hard to get the spaceship up and running, the saiyan and Gohan would spend hours working together in the Gravity Room. Vegeta had expected the boy to be turned away from fighting altogether in the wake of Piccolo's death, and he had been pleasantly surprised to discover that Gohan had the complete opposite reaction of that.

"Life is loss, boy. You must take the darkness life has dealt, and use it for power. THAT is what will keep you motivated during the madness." Vegeta had told the boy this shortly after Piccolo's defeat. "What you will accomplish is never going to be despite your obstacles, boy. It'll be in spite of them."

Those words resonated with him. It was so pessimistic, and Gohan had never quite heard anything like it. Yet he found this advice to be surprisingly comforting as it sank in, and he took Vegeta's words to heart. Was that how his mentor had grown so calculated and calm during his battles? "I want to get better." He'd told the saiyan prince. "Someday I'll get to see Mr. Piccolo again, and I'll make sure he's proud."

"The future is never set in stone." Vegeta had replied, not wanting the boy to harbor false hope that their plans would go perfectly well. "Our trail may be intercepted during our trip. We may come face to face with rivals just as repulsive as the Androids, if not worse. Something can easily go wrong, and you must expect that, in order to minimize the element of surprise. You will have to accept that you might never see Piccolo again, and yet you'll be willing to work as if it's a sure thing."

"I'm going to make sure that doesn't happen!" Gohan was angry when he spoke now. "I'm going to see Mr. Piccolo! I'm going to wish him back to life so I can apologize! I owe it to him! I'm going to make him proud!"

"Very well." Vegeta wasn't fond of the boy's optimism, and yet he liked his enthusiasm. "… Then power up to super, boy. And give me all you've got…"

And that was how the two interacted during their stay on the Capsule Corp property. Vegeta told Gohan that the trip into space would be absolutely horrific, in as much detail as he could, in order to see if the boy could be deterred. And yet Gohan, still regarding the advice that Vegeta had given him, only took such tales as motivation to push himself even harder. In his eyes, the idea of finding the dragonballs and wishing his family and friends back to life was his only remaining purpose. Despite how much Vegeta warned him of the terrible possibilities, Gohan was determined that he'd find a way out of any dire situation. He would just have to, for this trip to Namek was his only remaining hope to return to a normal life.

.

Four days had gone by since the spaceship project had been under way, and Bulma was already miserable with fatigue. Waking up at 6 A.M. sharp each morning after working until well after midnight, the long hours were getting to the Bluehead, even though she was being sure to sufficiently eat. At that moment her watch was vibrating, and she put her wrench down at the feel. It was an alarm reminder telling her that it was time to eat, and she nodded before wiping sweat away from her hair line. There had a been a few occasions where she'd ignored the alert on her watch and continued with the spaceship instead, and Vegeta had always been quick to march downstairs and rip her away. Even at that moment, Bulma could hear his words echoing in her head – "We had an agreement!" He'd always snap, just before grabbing her by the shoulder and pulling her back. "You must fuel your damned body, Woman! Why must you be so difficult!?"

"Go on without me." Dr. Briefs announced, noticing the look on his daughter's face. "I'm not ready to go on break. I want to resolve this glitch first."

"I can wait," The Bluehead offered. "I have a few things I can finish up, too."

"No, don't. I don't need your friend coming down here and causing a disruption again." He sounded annoyed as he spoke, but the scientist looked up and smiled at his daughter nevertheless. "We wouldn't want your friend to think you're planning to skip a meal…"

"Right." She pursed her lips. Her father was teasing her, but she refused to react. Her hair was down to her shoulder blades now, and Bulma pulled it into a lazy ponytail as she headed upstairs. Outside stood Mrs. Briefs, who was working her way through pinning a fresh basket of laundry to a clothesline. "Oh, is it lunch time already?" The blonde asked when she saw her daughter.

"You know it –or else Vegeta will be after me." The Bluehead joked, rolling her eyes for effect.

"Well, somebody's gotta make sure you take a break every now and then! We all know you won't listen to anyone else!" Mrs. Briefs popped a clothespin in her mouth, staring at the line with concentration as she folded a pair of pants over it. She continued speaking, her voice muffled as she worked. "He sure does care for you, I can see it… What a sweet boy he is… You know, not every boy would care enough to make sure a girl is well fed!"

"Yeah, well…" It was strange, but such words were the opposite of flattering. In fact, they made her uncomfortable. Deep inside, despite the small gestures the saiyan gave that showed he really did care for her, there was an insecurity that had been building steadily with each passing day. No matter what she said or pleaded, Vegeta still insisted on going to space without her, and it left Bulma feeling insecure that there was something about this trip that he was keeping from her… It was hard to consider his feelings towards her when their situation was so distorted – it was hard to think he cared. If he cared so damned much, then why was Vegeta so insistent on leaving her behind? Why didn't he act as if he at least wanted her to go? Why was he so stubborn about it all? He wouldn't talk to her about it in the slightest, shooting down any questions she asked about his plans or timeline. It was as if he wanted her to know as little about the trip as possible – and why was that?

"Well, don't wait up for me. I've got lots left to do before I'll be headin' in." Mrs. Briefs turned her back to her daughter, humming happily as she continued hanging the clothes with complete concentration. Bulma wondered how long she had been standing with her thoughts, but apparently it hadn't been long enough to concern her own mother. Biting her lip, the Bluehead continued her trail, briskly passing the Gravity Room on her way…

The capsule house was practically empty, since Gohan and Vegeta hadn't taken a break from training yet. The Bluehead actually thought she was alone when she strolled to the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator, collecting the ingredients she needed in order to prepare a quick sandwich for herself.

It wasn't until she got to the table and set her plate down that she heard a rustle come from the bedroom, and moment later Yamcha stepped into view. Bulma looked up when he walked into the kitchen, and she gave him a friendly smile when he took a seat across from her. "You're not training?" She asked, genuine curiosity at seeing the Z-Fighter looking so bored.

"No. Not now." Yamcha replied awkwardly, pursing his lips at the Bluehead. He'd been struggling with thoughts of his own for months – some of which revolved around the aspect of fighting. In fact, the man was pretty sure he didn't have what it took to be a Z-Fighter, but now wasn't the time to tell Bulma that. So, instead of explaining why he'd been distancing himself from training, he settled on saying "Vegeta has made it clear that I'm not welcome in that G.R."

Well, that wasn't a lie – actually, it was quite true. That man had made it very obvious that Yamcha wasn't welcome during his and Gohan's sparring sessions. But what the Z-Fighter left out was that he wouldn't have wanted to, even if the invitation had been open…

"Well, it's technically my gravity room, since I'm the one who made it." Bulma replied after swallowing down a bite of her food. "If you want to use it, I'll make sure you can."

"I don't know, B…" Yamcha drifted. "I don't need it. I can just train in here..."

Giving a polite smile, the Bluehead returned to taking small bites from her sandwich. She was feeling a bit awkward, herself, considering all that had transpired with Yamcha the last time they'd been "alone" together. And now he was staring at her, looking at if he was wanting to say something, and she could easily imagine what was on his mind…

"Hey. You know, I think this is the first time we've been alone together since reuniting." Yamcha said then. "We can finally have a private conversation."

"You're right…" Bulma wanted to say something before Yamcha had the chance to shift things into an uncomfortable direction. Of course, maybe he wouldn't be quite as bold to do such a thing, now that he knew of her and Vegeta's relationship. But still, she didn't want to take any risks. "Hey," She swallowed. "I've actually been wanting to say something to you."

"Yeah? I'm all ears, B."

"I've been thinking about it… And, well, I don't like to think about it, but I'm pretty sure my parents wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you." She had just finished the last bite of her food, and was now pushing her plate away slowly. "You're the one that came and warned them, and it was because of you that they were able to take shelter before the Androids arrived and destroyed the neighborhood…"

"Hey, yeah… I guess you're right…"

Kami – she was getting emotional just verbalizing her thoughts, and she really hadn't wanted to. Bulma took a deep breath, trying to push the mental image as far away as she could. What mattered most was that her parents were alive and well, and she didn't need to focus on any more what-if's.

"You okay?" The Z-Fighter was asking now, and his voice had gone soft. She knew that she was giving her feelings away with the look on her face. He was reading her like a book, and she had let her defenses down enough for him to do that. "I just wanted you to know how grateful I am about that." She continued, and then she forced a smile on her cheeks, looking up at the Z-Fighter to try and prove that she was perfectly fine. "I don't think I've told you yet. I really appreciate that you came to help them… So, thank you."

"Oh, B… Come on, don't be sad." Yamcha was smiling back at her now, but there was a faint hue of a blush creeping into his scarred cheeks. He reached out as if to take her hand, but Bulma did not return the gesture. "You know I'd do anything for them. You guys are the closest thing I have to family… You know that. I'd do anything for them, and I'd do anything for you…"

A creaking sounded when a chair was pulled out from the table, and Bulma jumped. To her right was Vegeta, who was taking a silent seat in the middle of this sentimental conversation. "Veggie! Would you stop doing that?!"

"Doing what?" The saiyan replied, ever so matter-of-factly. He had a scowl on his face, his eyes slowly moving from Bulma to Yamcha, and back to Bulma again.

"I didn't even hear the door open." She explained. "You keep sneaking up on me and scaring the crap out of me!"

"It isn't my fault you can't sense ki." Vegeta commented, still with so much monotone. As if he hadn't noticed anything going on at all, and yet she could tell he'd heard everything from the way he kept looking at her.

"I didn't sense you." Yamcha said, looking more irritated than shocked. "You didn't want to be noticed. You were eavesdropping."

"It isn't my fault you let your guard down." The saiyan growled at the Z-Fighter, before turning back to his Woman. "Gohan will be here any minute. Your mother stopped him outside for some petty chat. He is going to eat as quickly as possible, and then we will continue our training."

"Fine, I'll make him something in the meantime." Pushing herself up from the table, the Bluehead stepped over towards the refrigerator. She was going to make him the same sandwich that she just ate, which was the quickest thing she could think to prepare.

"Could you make me one, too?" Yamcha asked, turning to look at her from over his shoulder. He shot her a wink, despite – or perhaps because of - the fact that Vegeta was sitting there to see. "With an extra piece of bread in the middle?"

"No problem. Do you want one too, Vegeta?" A few seconds passed, and there was no reply. Bulma turned from the counter, raising an eyebrow. "…Vegeta?"

The saiyan was still sitting at the table, his arms folded across his chest. Again, he seemed to be studying Yamcha before he turned to settle his gaze on the Bluehead. His scowl deepened when the two locked eyes, and he raised an irritable brow.

"Vegeta…" The Bluehead hated having to repeat herself so many times. "Did you want a sandwich or not?"

"No." He glared, before switching his gaze to Yamcha yet again. "Don't worry about me. Just go ahead and make one for him."

Was he actually jealous that she was going to serve Yamcha food? "Whatever…" She sighed, turning back to the counter as she shook her head. Quickly she began throwing the ingredients together, and the entire time neither the saiyan nor the Z-Fighter spoke again. She could feel Vegeta's stare, though, and even when she went back to the table he was still looking at her.

What was he thinking? He was behaving more pensively than even she was used to. His eyebrows were sunken as she watched the other two in the room, his pupils sparking with some type of silent thought. Bulma scowled at him whenever the two locked eyes, but he didn't bother offering any type of explanation. He only glared, and as soon as Gohan entered the room Vegeta stood up. "I will be waiting." He said to the boy before turning and walking out, not even offering the Bluehead a goodbye as he went.

"Mr. Vegeta?" Gohan called, and the boy was visibly surprised at the saiyan's conduct. Evidently, he hadn't been in as cold of a mood when the two had been training alone. The front door slammed, indicating the saiyan prince's exit, and Gohan turned to the table with wide eyes. "I wonder what that was about."

"He's always like that." Yamcha replied. "Thank God he finally left. What a killjoy!"

"He's not that bad." Gohan shoved the entire sandwich in his mouth with a single bite – just like his father would have done. "I like Mr. Vegeta. Right, Miss Bulma?"

"Right..." She replied, biting her bottom lip. "Right…"

.

As with every day, the saiyan's cold demeanor completely evaded as soon as he stepped into the basement for the night. Instead of acting pensive and distant, he was now nothing but engaged and concerned with the Bluehead, and her alone. It seemed he had nothing to occupy himself with other than that Woman, and he always made this well known. Several hours had passed since the incident in the kitchen, and Bulma was sitting on an elevater chair as she tinkered with something in the ship's engine.

The saiyan, upon entering the basement, took a seat on the bed across the room and watched her as she worked, noting the focus in her eyes as she glared at whatever it was she was doing. He gave her a few minutes, and when he got bored of listening to the clinking of her tools, he spoke. "It's time to rest."

"Not yet." She didn't even look up at him. She cursed, the sound of clunking metal as she dropped a wrench into her toolbox and fished something else out instead.

"Get in bed. Now." Vegeta replied.

"Find something to occupy yourself with. I'm not ready."

"Woman." He growled. "Don't be stubborn."

"Don't you dare call me stubborn." She clucked. "You, of all people."

"Oh, so you don't believe you're stubborn? You refuse to pause with your labors, instead working yourself to the point of exhaustion, which ends up impeding the overall progress of your project. What would you call that?"

"Again, look who's talking."

"I know what I can handle, and I'm used to over exertion. Not like you." He glared. "You're in a compromised condition, anyway, and you know it."

"What do YOU care?" She hissed, Vegeta having hit a sensitive spot at reference to their unborn child. It wasn't clear whether she'd finished her task, or if she was taking Vegeta's opinion into more consideration than she wanted to admit. But she slammed the panel to the engine shut, and slowly began to make her way down the elevated chair she'd been seated on. "You're going to leave not too long from now, so it's none of your business what I do."

He grumbled something indistinguishable under his breath, and a second later he was standing right beside her. "I am here now, and while I am with you, you are my business. You need to learn to take care of yourself – a skill you clearly lack."

"I just find it hypocritical that you're being so pigheaded about leaving me behind, and yet you have the audacity to act so hostile when you see me and Yamcha together. Did you think I wouldn't notice your blatant jealousy, or did you just not care?"

He grabbed her wrist and started ushering her towards the bed. "I was listening to what he said to you." The saiyan pushed her down on the mattress, climbing after her.

"And?" She was stiff as he found a spot, laying by her side, and pulled her into his physique. "And..." He muttered as Bulma gave him a push. "I found it interesting."

"What does that even mean?" She hissed, but the saiyan only squeezed her even tighter. He put his hand to her stomach, like he did each night, and suddenly that familiar warmth was upon her. She was irritable and wanting a fight, but something about his touch made her bones themselves feel rejuvenated, and she was losing the enthusiasm she once had of making her grievances known.

"Don't worry about it." He muttered. "Just get some rest…"

"You're doing something to me." Bulma announced, completely sidetracking the discussion. She put a hand to his wrist. "Every night you touch me there, and as soon as you do I get this feeling."

"Don't worry about it." He repeated, which made the Bluehead frown even deeper. "Stop telling me that. What is it you're doing with your hand? Why does it make me feel so... so… So good?"

"Don't act so shocked. My hands have always made you feel good." He grinned, and Bulma clapped his arm. "You know what I mean! You're doing something to me, and I know it!"

"Maybe." Vegeta replied, much to the Bluehead's distaste. He had always been such a private man, but his reluctance to elaborate was starting to become insufferable.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but Vegeta cut her off with a kiss. "Stop questioning everything." He said when he pulled away. "I know you're mad at me, but what's been decided will not be changed. You can't go on the trip, and that's in your best interest. Now go to sleep."

It wasn't fair. He was so incredibly frustrating, and yet she was being lulled to dreams, against her own efforts. Bulma wanted to yell, shove him away, and spout that he had no right to touch her when he was so willing to run as soon as he got the chance. That he had no say in how she handled her pregnant body when he obviously had no plans to be a part of the baby's life. And yet she also wanted to melt under the sensation of his touch, to memorize exactly how it felt to be in his arms at that precise moment. And she also wanted to sob - to curl up into fetal position and hug her legs at the prospect of being left in this post-apocalyptic wasteland that had once been her home…

Her instincts were all so conflicted, which left her silent as she stared at the saiyan with lidded eyes. It was clear that he knew she was upset, and still nothing was going to change. Helplessly pissed, Bulma wasn't even aware when her eyes slowly shut, and she drifted to sleep.

Damnit, she would have thought, if she was awake enough to do such a thing. Another night she had planned to confront the saiyan prince about his scheme, and another night had been wasted by her falling asleep.