"No thank you," Bulma was saying. She spoke softly to the deputy, as if trying to keep those around from hearing. Yet Yamcha could hear. But, then again, he'd been paying attention. He'd been watching her from his place at the table, trying to see any hint of what she might be thinking as he studied her face.

"Lord Vegeta insists you take his call," The deputy was whispering back, even more hushed, but Bulma simply turned away and focused her attention on her plate.

Yamcha couldn't help but figure that some fight between the two must have occurred, most likely surrounding her father. As for Yamcha, Bulma hadn't spoken to him since their meeting that had taken place during late-morning. Now it was dinner, and she sat silently at the other end of the table. Around her sat officials within the saiyan military. Bardock and Kakarot, with Chi-Chi by his side.

There had been a formal dinner every night since the arrival of the Earth diplomats, and during each of these meals Bulma hadn't uttered more than polite words. Tonight was turning out to be no different, and yet at the same time it was very much so. He knew that she now knew. And there was an iciness radiating from her that seemed to have even caught the surrounding militants off guard.

At one point Chi-Chi had even leaned across Kakarot to take her hand. Yamcha would have thought that Bulma had confided in her earlier, except Chi-Chi had clearly asked "what's wrong?", with no effort of discreetness whatsoever. Bulma had humored a soft smile, shaking her head and mumbling a mundane excuse about being exhausted. And the look of confused worry left on Chi-Chi's face was one that was unmistakably genuine.

At one point Yamcha and Bulma had locked eyes. It was fleeting, her blue irises seeming to sparkle in the chandelier light. And as soon as it happened, she had blinked her gaze away. Perhaps it had been a coincidence, Yamcha thought, but something inside urged that it hadn't. He knew from their brief time courting on Earth that she was an expert at being reticent, and she wouldn't have allowed their eyes to meet had she not wanted them to.

"Hey!" A hushed voice whispered, and Yamcha felt a sharp jab in his side. For the third time that dinner he glared at his friend beside him, the shorter diplomat scowling back.

"You can stop doing that, you know." Yamcha murmured.

"Someone's bound to catch you ogling!" Krillian hissed back, an undertone undeniably shouting ' and you'll get us all killed!'

Yamcha rolled his eyes. He knew a thing or two about being discreet, himself. And he knew that the likelihood of anyone noticing him as he observed Bulma was second to none. After all, nobody on the Earth's kingdom had ever caught him during their sly dinners…

.

"When should I tell home base that we'll be returning?" Krillian was asking, and for once he didn't have a hint of a nag in his voice. The two had just made it back to the visitor's common room. Krillian had just kicked off his boots and was now stretching his chest.

"Maybe in a week," Yamcha said dismissively. The truth was, he didn't have any desire to return to Earth at all. He simply didn't care to leave Bulma again. Not on Vegetasai, and not ever… If he could do anything about it.

"We're going to have to report back tomorrow. It'll be Day Four already." Krillian was groaning deeply as he stretched both arms behind him. As much as he wanted to be direct and dependable to the Earth's King, he also had a hard time finding the desire to return so soon. Not after spending so long cooped up on that ship. The longer they could stretch their legs on an actual planet, the better... As long as Yamcha was able to keep up his act and not do anything stupid. "Did anyone ever say when Vegeta's getting back?"

"Not sure," Yamcha replied. He was now standing in the bathroom, the door open to allow the two men to continue their conversation. He pulled off his shirt and set it on the counter, readying for a shower. "Bet we can ask someone. Just tell 'em that we want to talk to Vegeta again before we leave if they want to know why."

"True." Krillian replied. He allowed himself to fall back on the plush recliner, kicking his feet up on the perfectly aligned ottoman. A pleasant smacking of the lips ensued as he sank deeper in, resting both arms behind his head. "Can't say I miss that miserable old ship."

It was nice that Krillian's comment didn't require a reply. For at that precise moment, Yamcha was sliding a hand into his left pocket. He'd thought he felt something in there, and sure enough he retrieved a folded piece of paper. Raising an eyebrow, he turned to his own self in the mirror, throwing a look that said " are you seeing this? "

And then he closed the door, throwing the lock the doubly ensure Krillian wouldn't walk in. Yamcha went ahead and started the tap of the shower to block out any subtle noise the paper might make when unfolding, and his eyebrows raised even higher when a familiar handwriting greeted him. A smirk stretching across his face, he began to read.

Meet me in the ship. Three hours past dinner. The palace shall be in slumber.

Looking up to see his own reflection again, Yamcha was smirking wider than he ever knew possible. That sly girl - he thought! When had she managed to arrange such a thing? Even for her, the stealth in which she'd planted this note had been otherworldly. She must have learned a thing of two during her time on this planet, and it made him admire her even more.

Giving the mirror a congratulatory thumb's up, he began to kick his pants off. Now he had even more incentive to get freshened up!

.

Red manicured nails were clicking impatiently as Bulma paced about the main cabin. She was in the very ship that the Earth Diplomats had arrived with, the vehicle stationed in the oversized royal loading dock. As luxurious as it sounded, the facility resembled more of a concrete warehouse. It was so centrally located in the palace that it was left unnoticed in the evenings, security more concerned with the kingdom's entry points instead.

Bulma had waited until she knew that the rest of the palace staff typically retreated to their quarters for the evening. And, once again using the training she'd received as a child on being demure and unassuming, she had quietly tip-toed through the three corridors required to access the dock.

Now she waited in the ship, hoping that her guest would show at all. The thing about meeting in secret was that the timing was always vague. The schedule had to allow for flexibility in case prying eyes needed to be evaded. This meant that she could be waiting an additional hour or two just before he had the chance to arrive unnoticed.

If he came at all.

There also was always the chance he might not discover her note in time. Unfortunately, it was an accepted risk that a note planted in furtiveness was a note that could go unfound.

And so, it was hard not to breathe a sigh of relief when the door gently cracked open. It had only been fifteen minutes since Bulma had arrived, and she considered that a great success. She turned her stone face to greet the man as he carefully palmed the door shut, and her brows raised when she got a good look.

He wasn't wearing his typical military uniform. And yet he wasn't completely casual. In spite of herself, she couldn't help but to look closer. On his torso was a white shirt, the fabric made up of some type of silk. It was cut into a deep V-neck, which revealed lines of muscle protruding down his chest. The shirt was loosely tucked into a pair of relaxed black slacks.

"Bulma," He said, and her eyes snapped to his. She wondered if he had noticed her looking, her cheeks burning lightly. If he did, he gave no indication. He simply watched her, a smile barely tracing his lower lip.

"Thank you for coming," Bulma breathed. "I wasn't sure if you would."

"Are you kidding?" Yamcha replied lowly. "For you, I'd do anything."

She smiled, embarrassed, suddenly feeling self-conscious in front of him. She hadn't anticipated it at all, but after seeing him like this, she figured it made sense. Regardless of their recent history, of all that had gone on with Vegeta, and despite her being a married woman, she couldn't deny the fact that Yamcha was good looking. They had, after all, once been blindly in love. There would always be a part of her that enjoyed looking at him, she supposed…

"I-" Her voice shook a little, and she sat down on the nearby couch to regain some composure. "I need to know what you know about my father."

"Of course," He replied, and he took a seat across from her. She wished he hadn't. From here, the way he sat, she was getting an even better angle of his chest. "I can tell you all that I am able, but it really isn't much. And our journey took several days. We've received no updates since leaving."

"Right," Bulma mumbled. She tried not to assume the worst, but why wouldn't they have heard anything since leaving? Was Daddy not well enough to use a phone anymore?

"No news is always good news, isn't it?" Yamcha offered, somewhat plucking her from these disastrous thoughts.

"Right…" Bulma bit her lip.

"The entire reason Krillian was sent here was to provide news on your father." Yamcha began, evidently deciding to waste no further time with silent looks and awkward gestures. "He really isn't doing good, but I have no reason to believe he isn't still alive. He even gave a letter to Krillian deliver to you."

With that, Yamcha was leaning forward and holding out a soft blue envelope branded with the royal seal. Bulma took it without hesitation, staring down at it. She couldn't help but to trace her fingers across the seal, admiring her kingdom's crest. Had her father placed this seal himself? And would it have been the last to ever brand?

She couldn't bring herself to break the seal under such thoughts. So instead she turned the envelope and began to lightly tear as its side, careful that she not destroy the parcel within.

"Does Krillian know you are here, then?" She asked as she worked.

"Of course not. He meant to deliver it earlier during our meeting, but he had enough sense not to shove it at you during all of that. He left it on the coffee table in our common room. Once he realizes it's missing, I'll make him think I gave it to you during dinner."

"Hm.." Bulma breathed. She was now sliding the parchment from the torn envelope, unwrapping it with shaking hands. She was so eager to read words personally conveyed from her father, having missed him so deeply. And yet she was terrified. Terrified of what the letter would say. Terrified what he might have needed to share…

My dearest daughter,

By now you must know of my state.

I want to keep fighting, kitten. I want to stay around as long as I can, but it isn't looking so good. The timing couldn't be better, but at the same time I know it couldn't be worse. I wish you were here, but it wouldn't be safe.

Our ties with the Saiyans will mean only great things for the security of Earth's climate. No longer is Frieza or the Cold Kingdom a threat, and the relief is already evident in our people, kitten. Parades of celebration have broken out in the streets. A census was conducted two days after the wedding, and the results indicated a staggering increase of planned unions. By these numbers we anticipate a rapid rise of birth rates in the coming years.

As King I am happy. My people are excited to live again. I will need to be working closely with the department of agriculture to ensure that resources will be at top production in order to accommodate the increase of population in the coming years.

Despite this all, I understand your predicament, kitten. You have only just married and are already going to be Queen of Vegetesai. Any change of crowns will create a temporary period of unrest. There will be citizens that will question your capabilities or worthiness, and for this reason you must remain safe within the palace walls until you have won the respect of your people, and while any conspiracies have been thwarted.

For this reason you cannot come back to Earth for at least a year, my sweetest daughter. I cannot risk your path being infiltrated, or the consequences that may come from you leaving your throne so soon. I have already spoken to your husband regarding this matter.

Know that I will always love you, my only one. I will fight until I have nothing left. I intend to stay alive until we can meet again. But should I not be successful in doing this, you must still remain where you are. Arrangements are being made at home to ensure that the stability of the Kingdom will prevail. If necessary, the Kingdom will temporarily fall into a democratic government, in which decisions will be made through a voting among all royal parties. Once it is safe, you will be at liberty to return and work with these parties to determine the next of throne.

I love you, my only child.

You mother would be so proud to see what all you have grown to achieve.

Until we meet again,

Daddy

Yamcha remained silent while Bulma read through the letter one, twice, and three times. Her eyes grew more glossy with each word, and inside an anger was once again brewing. She couldn't even begin to detail how much she loved her father, and yet she was enraged at him at the same time.

How could he just make these executive decisions? Didn't he consider what this might do to her? To have to sit so idly, so far away, knowing that he could die at any moment?! Did he really expect her to just be content with that, simply because he said so?!

And Vegeta - he'd been in on this!? She didn't care if that was something her father thought was best. She didn't care whether Vegeta actually agreed with him, or if he was just following protocol. Vegeta was supposed to be her husband , when all was said in done! The fact that it was so… easy for him to allow her to remain in ignorance of it all was sickening.

She was so tired of decisions being made on her behalf, without any say or control on the matter. And she was tired of everyone seeming to not take her seriously enough in the first place. Why, she might be young and a princess, but she was still a woman, wasn't she?! A fully thinking and feeling adult with a mind of her own!

"Yamcha." Bulma said abruptly. Fierce tears running down her cheeks, she folded the sheet quickly and shoved it back in its envelope, to protect it from any drops that might fall onto it. She then looked up at the man in front of her, making sure to lock eyes.

He looked absolutely taken aback by her sudden change of demeanor. Most likely he had expected her to be heartbroken instead of displaying the rage that was surely radiating off her. "Bulma-"

"Can you take me home?" She asked, though it came out more as a demand. "To Earth?"

"Now?" His eyes wide, clearly this had been the last thing he was expecting. "But-"

"Yes." She interrupted. "I want to see my Daddy, and nobody will let me go if they find out."

"Maybe you should sleep on it," Yamcha offered, and this only added to her ire. Now was when he was going to have second thoughts and be the beacon of morale?!

"You always used to talk about running away!" Bulma shot. "I just want to go home! Come on!"

"You're in a really vulnerable state, though…" Yamcha replied, straightening his posture. "You're been through a lot today. This is a really big decision to make-"

"I will not regret it." She snapped. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life! I need to go see my father, and you're the only person I know who can actually make that happen."

"Really, Bulma… We can always go tomorrow night if you still feel that way…" Yamcha looked so uncertain. He was now avoiding eye contact, scratching the back of his head anxiously. Bulma couldn't help but to realize that this whole situation might be incredibly confusing for him. After all, she'd been giving him the cold shoulder for practically his entire visit. Now she was suddenly asking him to take her on an intergalactic trip, and with no explanation as to what was going on in her head. Anyone would be thrown for a loop!

"Please…." Bulma urged. She stood up and moved to where he sat. She actually dropped to her knees and took his hand. "Yamcha, please… Time is of the essence. There's no telling how long Daddy has left. I can't wait even another day… At least if I go now, I'll know I did everything I could. Please! You're my only hope…"

She felt his knuckles convulsing in her grip as she spoke, and she watched hopefully as his jaw slackened while she spoke. "Please…."

Yamcha closed his eyes and drew a long, deep breath. Bulma held her own, waiting anxiously, unable to tell what he was thinking. He took another long breath, his eyes still closed. And then he put his other hand on top of hers, and he looked back at her. "Alright."

"Really?" Bulma let out a dry laugh. She pulled away so she could wipe the furious tears away, her grin stretching from ear to ear. "You mean it?!"

"Of course," Yamcha grinned back. "How can I say no? After all, you're just going to see your dad."

"Exactly!" She gasped. Without thinking about it, she threw herself onto Yamcha and wrapped her arms into a tight hug. "Thank you, thank you!"

"We need to go quick, though." Yamcha's arms were automatically around her, returning the hug. And while she just held him in appreciation, he held her with more meaning. It was tight, and feeling poured from his arms. He even sort of groaned into the hug, which Bulma took definite note of with wide eyes. Carefully she pulled away, her cheeks reddening. Hoping that she wasn't giving him the wrong ideas all of the sudden. Wondering if even an innocent hug was going too far for a married woman.

"Mm" She cleared her throat. "I just need to grab a few things for the trip,"

She noticed his brows raising suspiciously, and she continued before he had a chance to interject. "It'll be okay! The palace is dead at this hour, and my quarters aren't far."

"If you get caught, we'll have to postpone this. And it won't be on me." Yamcha sighed. But he couldn't help the smirk. It was just like Bulma to pay no mind at sneaking around. They had built their entire relationship on such a nature, and it was amusing. Nobody seemed to think she was capable of such a thing, which made her slyness even easier to get away with.

"I won't get caught." Bulma promised. "And if I do, it'll still be fine. I'll say I needed to take some clothes to be laundried. That I wanted them done first thing in the morning."

"Okay," Was all Yamcha said. "I'll just wait here. But if you aren't back in thirty minutes I'm going to assume it isn't happening."

And that was that. Bulma made no hesitation to hurry out of the ship, ready to collect as many changes of clothes as possible for the upcoming trip. She wondered how far they would be able to get before the palace realized she was gone the next morning. How Bardock might react, and how soon Vegeta would be alerted.

"Well, screw them," She thought, her stomach curling with anger at the memory of her treacherous husband. It would be a long time before she'd be able to forgive him for working with her father behind her back. And it wasn't like he'd actually go out of his way to stop her once he found out she was already gone. He'd know exactly where she was going, and why, so there'd be no reason to have a call of arms to hunt her down.

After all, she had every right to go back to her home planet if she wanted to. And nobody was going to stop her. Not even the leader of Vegetasai.