Hi guys! Here is a short chapter today. I decided to split the part of their reunion in half, because I really wanted to explore both point of view :)

Also, I'm very busy this week with studying for a big exam, but I guarantee that the next chapter will come shortly.

Thank you so much for the reviews, it really encourages me to know that people like this story :3

Enjoy! xx

Chapter 12 – Bulma

"What do you mean, we can't use the regeneration tanks?" Idris said, irritated. "Have you seen him? Do you realize how long it will take for his wounds to heal?"

"The Emperor ordered it himself." replied one of the soldiers in a neutral voice. "And he must not receive any sedatives or painkillers. Food is also forbidden for eight days. Only water is allowed."

"No food… for eight days?!" the long-legged woman said, offended.

She glanced at the wounded soldier, whose blood continued to spill onto the ground. She was probably wondering how his body would regenerate without receiving anything substantial to do so.

"What the hell did he do to make Frieza so angry?" she asked in a weak voice.

"No idea." replied a soldier. "But, he's a Saiyan, he'll get over it."

"A Saiyan deprived of food... it might take a long time!" laughed the second one.

Bulma, still standing in front of the examination table, listened absently to the conversation. Eyes fixed into those of the said Saiyan, the still functional part of her brain managed to assimilate some information.

Countless injuries. No regeneration tank. No painkillers. And no food.

She knew Frieza was dangerous. She had heard several stories about him, each one more horrible than the other. But with this wounded soldier sitting before her, she was witnessing the undeniable proof of his cruelty. And as she imagined the scene that had led to such a mess, a shiver ran through her from head to toe, and the word "torture" slowly crept into her mind.

Bulma, troubled, her heart pounding, blinked a few times, without taking her eyes off the man sitting in front of her. Of all the occupants of this ship, of all the patients who could have required her care on her first day of work, it had to be HIM.

This soldier she first met on Earth and with whom she had shared this intense connection which had capsized her so much. The one who had so easily bewitched her with the same dark gaze he had cast on her at that moment. The one who had made her lose her mind, and who she had naturally rushed to meet in the nightclub, rather than waiting and letting herself be courted like she was used to. The one she would have loved to dance with, and whom she had perversely imagined dragging into a small alley of West City to let him possess her, just for the pleasure of feeling his muscular body against hers and hearing his deep voice vibrating against her neck.

This soldier, who had vilely participated in the destruction of the nightclub, as well as the terrible eradication of the hundreds of Humans who had come to have fun. The one who had taken part in this operation to kidnap her, but also Chi-Chi and this brown-haired woman who had been brutally forced to go to the Quarters. The one who, in a burst of arrogance and unhealthy rivalry, had confronted Yamcha and who, in a way, she held responsible for his death.

The last few days spent in the dormitory had been rich of free time. Therefore, she had thought a lot about this soldier during her stay, remembering with guilt and anger their short encounter on Earth. She remembered his black eyes, his flame-shaped hair, his disproportionately muscular arms that had encircled her in front of the bar, this exhilarating heat that had emanated from his body. And when her mind was not completely entangled in the lust that his memory instilled, she had also remembered that smirk he had exhibited and that she had hated so much, that excessive calm he had displayed when the explosions had started, as well as the threats he had made against her and her people. And this is how the contradictory feelings towards him were born, his memory evoking both envy, desire and curiosity, but also bitterness, resentment and fury.

Now being a hostage on the Imperial ship, Bulma knew there was a chance they might cross paths again. So, she had imagined several times what it would be like to see him again. Torn between the desire to rip off his suit or to tear off his head, her mind had wandered extensively between the two options. She had nevertheless always ended up concluding that the chances of seeing him again were slim, and that probably, this man would forever retain the status of a particularly exciting fantasy.

But there he was. In the flesh, and much more real than a simple fantasy.

Bulma was in shock. She hadn't expected to see him again so soon, and especially not under such circumstances. The fact that he was sitting on the examination table, HER examination table, injured, panting, suffering, and that she was supposed to be the one to dress his wounds automatically invalidated the two options she had thought about. He needed treatment, and there she was, her hands full of medical equipment, hypothetically ready to give it to him.

But the reality was that the young woman, lost in these two endlessly black orbs, was completely frozen. Constrained by uncertainty as to the role she had to play in this whole charade, her mind unable to manage the contradictory feelings that this soldier evoked in her, she could not bring herself to take the few steps that separated them and do what was expected of her.

That's why Bulma, dizzy, her heart pounding in her chest, was only able to do one thing; she held his gaze without blinking. For a very long time.

And he, although his pitiful state, made sure to do the same.

The moment dragged on, as each heartbeat began to echo louder than the last in Bulma's head. And the more the seconds passed, the more the young woman could feel a tension creeping between them, a tension which gradually grew until it filled up all the space and became almost unbearable. Then, after a while of staring at each other, the Saiyan's tense face relaxed imperceptibly. His breathing, until then erratic, became a little more regular. And his mouth, which had remained ajar to let the air in, closed to better allow the right corner of it to contort into this half-smile she had already seen him display before.

Seeing it, Bulma frowned and angrily blew air through her nose.

Apparently, the lamentable state he was in was not enough to silence his impetuosity. Despite all his injuries and his apparent suffering, despite the punishment he had just received and the one that still had to come, this man not only found a way to keep his head high, but he also had enough confidence to offer her this detestable grin.

Bulma, stunned to see him smile at her like that, resolutely crossed her arms on her chest and glared at him, which only accentuated his grimace.

What an arrogant jerk!

Only someone with a profoundly disturbed mind would be able to find something to laugh about in a situation like that.

"Make him lay on the examination table." Idris suddenly ordered to the soldiers who carried the injured man, all three being completely unaware to the silent interaction which took place between the Human and her patient.

The soldiers grabbed the Saiyan's arms with the intention of flipping him onto his back. But he violently broke free from their grip before they could do anything.

"Leave me alone." he growled in a weak, but firm voice. "I don't need help. Go away!"

The soldiers obeyed without stubbornness. Idris frowned. She followed the man's gaze with her eyes, and her trajectory ended on Bulma, who still hadn't flinched. The woman then seemed to become aware of the tension that had insidiously built between the pair, and the gap between her eyebrows widened.

"You heard him." she added. "Leave us alone, we no longer need your help. This Human will take over from now on. Get out now!"

And she chased away the soldiers with a wave of her hand before turning to her recruit.

"You better get on with it right away, before he loses all of his blood on the floor." she said. "I'm going to help you stitch this huge wound across his chest."

She sighed heavily as she inspected the lacerated skin on his back.

"It's going to be really long and difficult, without the help of a regeneration tank…" she whispered.

"I don't… need your… help…" the Saiyan managed to articulate between two laborious inspirations.

But as he said this, the soldiers no longer there to support him, his bruised body began to tip forward.

Realizing that he would fall off the exam table if she didn't do something, Bulma rushed towards to catch him. In her haste, she dropped the medical equipment she was holding, which fell with a crash on the ground. She managed to place her palms on his shoulders just in time to stop him from falling and couldn't help but appreciate how firm they were under her fingers.

A plaintive moan escaped the man's lips when she touched him. Their faces barely separated by a few centimeters, he continued to stare at her through his half-opened eyelids. But Bulma didn't have the opportunity to think about this proximity, because despite his small stature, the man was much more massive than she expected.

Holy shit! The bastard was heavy!

Wondering what he could be made of, the young woman held her breath and used all her strength to tip him backwards. With Idris's help, she tried to lay his body on the examination table. This time, the patient did not protest, and with his gaze still fixed on his blue-haired caregiver, he let the two women install him comfortably on the mattress, his upper body first, then his legs, one by one. Once positioned in an acceptable way, Idris started soaking dozens of sterile cloths with a cleaning solution, while Bulma began to prepare some suture and pliers that would be useful to close the wound.

As she did so, the young woman couldn't help but glance furtively over the bruised body of her patient. She gritted her teeth as she took a closer look at the damages. Her work would be long and arduous, yes, but it was nothing compared to the ordeal that awaited this soldier. It must have been horribly painful to be mutilated as he was, and nausea took hold of her as she imagined the torture it would be to be treated and stitched up without any analgesia.

While being impressed by the admirable tolerance of this soldier, she quickly studied all his wounds, each of them gradually transforming the horror that had initially inhabited her into anger against the person who was responsible for it.

And that's when Bulma saw it for the first time.

There, right next to the soldier's right leg, was this long appendage covered in brown fur that rippled lazily down his thigh. The hair covering it were fiercely bristling and its extremity was furiously beating the air.

Bulma's eyes widened as she noticed this detail that had completely escaped her during their first meeting. This man, who looked every bit like a Human at first glance, had a tail, an undeniable proof that he was not one.

"It's a monkey's tail." said Idris, seeing the young woman freeze at this discovery. "Every Saiyan have one."

Bulma remained silent, and just stared in surprise at this strangely familiar organ. Idris probably thought the look on her face was this of shock induced by novelty. But that wasn't the case. No, it was not the novelty that explained her astonishment, but quite the opposite, in fact. Because the young woman had seen a tail exactly like this one before. If she was so surprised to discover it at that moment, it was precisely because she knew someone who had one exactly like it, and she had never expected to meet a second person who had one.

Bulma turned her head to look at the face of the man who was dying under her hands. He had closed his eyes, his breathing even faster and his features even more tense than before. She observed with curiosity his black hair standing in the air, also familiar by its astonishing thickness and its untameable features.

And strangely, at that moment, she started thinking about Chi-Chi, her best friend.

If only she could have confided in her what she had just discovered.

With this man from far away in space, she was convinced of it now. Her oldest friend, the one with whom she had experienced so many adventures during her adolescence, the first she had met to have a monkey tail identical to this one, the strongest of all the fighters she had ever known, was not alone in this universe.

A Saiyan. This is what Goku was.