Hi guys :)

Sorry for the delay in publishing this chapter, I fell a little behind last week with my exam, so my writing pace was a little slower. But here it, at last!

I apologize for those who are impatient to see our two characters get together. I really want to build this tension between B and V, so that's why you might feel like it's a bit slow.

But I assure you guys that it will get HOT, slowly, but surely :3

Enjoy!

Chapter 13 – Vegeta

Pain. From a young age, Vegeta knew it well. It was part of his daily life. It accompanied him periodically, almost every day of his life, like a melody being constantly replayed, sometimes at low volume and sometimes so loud that it became deafening.

Over time, over the years and after many battles and suffering, Vegeta got to know it well, to tame and to embrace it. He had even found a way to turn it's presence into something productive and rather than trying to push it away, he welcomed it with hospitably in order to take advantage of it, transforming something that should have weakened him into a motive to get stronger.

And the current situation was no different from previous ones.

It wasn't the first time, and certainly not the last, that Vegeta found himself in this state. Bones broken, flesh torn, breathless, he laid on his back, barely conscious enough to remember what had brought him here. It was Frieza, of course, who was responsible for this umpteenth burst of pain racking his body. The lizard always took pleasure in showing off his power, and he liked using Vegeta to do it. It had always been like this. Since he had welcomed him on this ship, many years ago, he had found all kinds of reasons to punish the prince. Over time, Vegeta had understood that he intended to periodically remind him that he was no match for him, and that he was doing it to remind him that he was nothing more than the hairy beast that he was.

But Frieza knew little about Saiyans. He didn't have the slightest idea what it was like to be part of the best warrior race the universe had. He didn't know what it was like to feel his blood boiling with anticipation before a battle. He was not aware that each of the blows he dealt to Vegeta to destroy his pride actually only made him stronger, more resistant, more determined. He was not aware that it was largely thanks to these punishments that Vegeta had become the fighter he was today and that each blow he gave in the intention to extinguish his flame did nothing more than fan the fire burning within him.

It had always worked like this. Every time Vegeta failed to win a fight, thinking of the resulting gain helped him get through the torment of his injuries. Each time he had to admit defeat, his Saiyan instinct pushed him to profit from this failure.

This is why, lying on the examination table of the medical unit, a weak smile on his lips, Vegeta strived to feed his fighting instincts and to use his suffering to rekindle this resentment which inhabited him every time Frieza tried to humiliate him. This exercise, which he had practiced many times before, had now become almost too easy.

Except this time was a little different.

This time, under the overwhelming pain that clouded his mind, Vegeta couldn't stay focused on the exercise. His brain already weakened by multiple traumas, he was unable to ignore the irony of the current situation.

Barely a few hours earlier, the prince had left his room to head towards the Quarters in the unspoken hope of seeing that woman. Instead, he fell upon Zarbon, who dragged him directly into the lizard's claws to receive his punishment. And it was only after having been given a solid beating, in a more pitiful state than ever, that he landed in the medical unit and finally found her.

This unexpected encounter disoriented him. Since he found her standing in front of him, it was impossible for him to concentrate on his goals. He couldn't take his eyes off her, her presence, her strangely overwhelming smell, the feeling of her delicate hands on his body not allowing him to indulge in this pain control exercise he had long since mastered.

His thoughts were muddled. His vision was blurred. But Vegeta, lying on his back with an oxygen mask on his face, could easily see the electric blue of her loosely tied hair. There she was, more real than ever, standing next to him in this fucking dress that looked so good on her, her upper body leaning over him. A few strands of hair fell in her face, but she was too focused to care. He could also see a scarlet headband contrasting with the white skin of her neck, as well as the disapproving pout she wore as she tortured him with her medical tools.

And she was even more beautiful than in his souvenirs.

Vaguely, he remembered refraining from admiring her when they first met. Pride had always told him not to pay too much attention to a woman, and she had been no exception. And even if he had let himself be carried away a little more than usual with her, he had not allowed himself to look at her freely, as he would have liked to. But now, his mind teetering dangerously close to the abyss of unconsciousness, pride had long since deserted him. And there he was, lost, disoriented and unfocused, observing each of her features without restraint, soaking up with impunity what he had missed earlier to better forget the pain gripping his body.

Vegeta didn't know how much time had passed since he arrived in the medical unit. He also didn't know how long they had been alone, both plunged into a silence periodically interrupted by the metallic noise of her forceps and needle. The other caregiver who had initially helped her had been gone for a long time now. But all this time, unable to find refuge in his usual concentration, he had spent it watching her while she worked, finding refuge in her beauty.

Then, after several long minutes, absorbed in the contemplation of his torturer, Vegeta felt that a moan escaped from his mouth. The woman's hands stilled, and she quickly looked up at him to observe him in return. With sustained effort, he managed to lift his heavy eyelids a little more to look deeper into her blue irises. She looked at him questioningly, and he saw that a gap had appeared between her eyebrows.

His condition did not allow him to analyze what he saw with much clarity, and her cerulean gaze was difficult to read. But he was happy to see that fear and pity were not written there. He would have hated to see her pity him, and strangely, he was pleased to see that, despite recent events, she had retained the same combative attitude he had witnessed a few days earlier. With the way she looked at him, she seemed to be angry, and an unpleasant feeling of guilt immediately began to torment him.

He wished he could speak. He wanted to say something to her that would make her react or say words that would make her pretty face blush. But his breath was short, and he was far too confused to articulate anything intelligible. He didn't need to wait for the X-ray report or the blood tests results he passed earlier to know that several of his ribs were broken and that his blood volume was reduced. But he had been through worse, and he knew this moment was ephemeral.

So, as long as he was reduced to silence, he preferred to remain immersed in the gaze of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Unfortunately for him, this woman seemed to have an indomitable temper. She didn't allow him to enjoy this truce for long and broke eye contact as abruptly and painfully as when his shoulder had been dislocated. She placed her medical tools on the sterile tray before turning her back to him. She then walked away towards the lined-up carts in the back of the room.

Frustrated, and now deprived of the distraction to forget about his pain, Vegeta gritted his teeth, moaning loudly. With nothing to concentrate on, suffering took up all the space in his brain, each of his neurons dedicated to transmitting an impulse telling him how broken his body was. He closed his eyes and tried to take refuge in his usual meditation to regain some control.

He began to think about Frieza and how he was welcomed in the Hall. The lizard had displayed an impudent smile when he saw him enter the room. He had begun to enumerate with great seriousness a list of completely unfounded accusations to justify the punishment he was about to distribute. Then Vegeta remembered the feeling of his cold, slimy tail on his chest when he had whipped him with it, and the punches that had deprived him of his dignity. Once Vegeta was on his knees in front of him, Frieza also proceeded to humiliate him even more by strangling his neck and grabbing his arms to sink his sharp claws into his flesh. Thinking of this, the Saiyan began to grimace. The memories were so vivid that he could still feel them piercing his skin.

Vegeta opened his eyes to make sure his ordeal was over, and that he had indeed left the Hall. He was reassured to see that he was still in the medical unit. Then, he felt something cold running down his forearm and his eyelids became even more heavy. He forced himself to keep them open, because through his ramblings, he saw that the blue-haired woman was back at his bedside. Unfortunately, he had little time to return to his exercise of contemplation, because shortly after realizing that she had stuck a needle in his vein, he slipped into unconsciousness.

The hours that followed were punctuated by hard to follow waking and sleeping cycles. His mind shrouded in a thick fog, and dreams passed quickly. Vegeta dreamed of his father, who was waiting for him dressed in his armor on an empty, decimated planet. When he greeted him, he was replaced by another Saiyan, a mysterious warrior with unparalleled power who challenged him to follow his pace while traveling into space. Without ever being able to catch up, Vegeta partially woke up, screaming his rage. That's when he saw this mass of blue hair spread out on his mattress, the woman to whom they belonged having fallen asleep, her head resting on her arms. Vegeta quickly returned to his dreams with the unpleasant feeling of being unable to determine whether this vision was real or not.

It was not until the next morning that the prince regained consciousness for good. It was pain, once again, that forced him to emerge from the mists. He was still lying on his back and horrible spasms were going through his spine. Blaming the hardness of the mattress on which he was lying on, he sat up to change position. His body ached, his head began to spin, and he had to take a few breaths to make it stop. He noticed that he had been moved to a medical bed near a window with an impressive view of the stars. White curtains had been drawn around him for privacy. Vegeta took advantage of this discretion to examine himself. He found that most of his body was covered in bandages and sutures. He didn't remember it, but he also noted that his shoulder had been replaced to its natural position.

He smiled, satisfied.

Only scratches and bruises! Despite the pain, it was not that bad. He would recover and would quickly return to his usual training.

Impatient, he started to pull aside the sheet covering his legs.

"Prince Vegeta." said a female voice behind him. "You shouldn't get up so quickly."

The Saiyan turned his head and saw Idris, the chief of the medical unit. She had stuck her head through one of the curtains to warn him.

Vegeta ignored her and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Your condition is still unstable." she added, pulling the curtain completely to approach. "You shouldn't get on your feet. We need to make sure…"

"Leave me alone." Vegeta replied in an imperious tone. "I don't need to be told what to do."

The woman hesitated for a moment. She knew the prince well from his frequent visits to the medical unit. His explosive temper was familiar to her, and she wanted to avoid pulling the trigger that would cause a storm.

"But…" she said in a weak voice, lowering her head under his dark gaze. "You have lost a lot of blood... you have many broken bones... I have to..."

"Enough! I know all this, and I am perfectly capable of getting up. Get out!" he roared, getting to his feet.

As soon as he touched the ground, he felt dizzy, but he forced himself to stare at a point in front of him to stop from losing balance. His breathing became short, and he began coughing to get his airways cleared. An electrifying shock ran through his chest, and he couldn't help but groan and grimace.

"What's going on here?" said another voice, much more confident this one.

Vegeta and Idris turned towards the person who had just spoken. The Saiyan didn't need to see her accusatory blue eyes fixed on him to know who that voice belonged to. She walked towards him with a decisive pace, her carefully tied ponytail flying behind her. She walked past Idris, who tried to intercept her, probably to save her from being destroyed by the ill-tempered soldier she was apparently about to lecture. But she skillfully dodged it without paying attention and stood straight in front of Vegeta, her fists firmly anchored on her hips.

"What are you doing exactly?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Vegeta, his legs trembling under his weight, tried to look straight in her eyes to answer. How insolent! If he hadn't been feeling so trash, she would already be paying for her brazenness.

"Getting up." he said. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Yes, it is. But to go where, exactly?"

"I'm getting out of here. I have training in less than an hour. Move, so I can pass!"

She laughed heartily and Vegeta gritted his teeth as she anchored her feet even more resolutely to the floor. He was probably not very convincing with his body wobbling back and forth and his hands shaking like leaves on the wind.

"Train? In your condition? " she mocked.

"I'm perfectly capable of... training." Vegeta stammered between bouts of dizziness. "These are only scratches. Saiyans are much more…"

Vegeta paused. A strong nausea churned in his stomach, and he was forced to bend his knees to sit on the mattress behind him, panting and covered in sweat.

The woman approached the bed to make sure he didn't fall. The prince braced to hear her make fun of him, but she did not.

"You don't have to prove anything to anyone, you know." she said in a lower voice. "You're really banged up, you need to take some rest, even if you're too proud to admit it."

She inspected the wound that streaked his chest, but he violently pushed her hand away. She frowned and her bad mood returned.

"What do you think, huh? That I'm going to let you go, just after spending so many hours caring for you? What an imbecile you are. My work is much more valuable than that!"

She turned to Idris, who had stood aside, wide-eyed at their interaction. She was tense, but also surprised to see the prince so docile.

"His bandages need to be replaced." said the blue-haired woman to her. "I'll take care of it. He won't get far under my watch."

Idris gave Vegeta an uncertain look. The latter would have liked to fight back, but he had the strong impression that the contents of his stomach would end up where it was not supposed to if he opened his mouth. The medical chief nodded, probably judging that his lamentable condition made him much less threatening than usual, and she left, closing the white curtain behind her.

The blue-haired woman turned to him again. Their eyes locked, and he was overcome by a new dizziness.

"I'll get the material to change your bandages." she said in an implacable tone. "You better stay quiet, or you're good for a second beating, am I clear?"

And she turned her back on him to head towards the medical cart which was at the back of the room. Vegeta, despite everything, couldn't help but smile. This woman was truly stupid if she thought she could threaten him like that. He beat the air angrily with his tail. He was about to respond, but he suddenly saw her freeze. Her delicate shoulders heaved, and he heard her take a deep breath before turning again to face him.

Vegeta, his merciless retort still burning his tongue, was stunned to see that her blue eyes had softened. She shook her head from side to side and he remained silent, suddenly curious about her attitude.

"You know what?" she said.

She looked into his black eyes and took a few steps in his direction. Vegeta sat up, suddenly wary.

"I think we should start all over again, you and me."

She was very close to him now.

"I don't even know your name!" she laughed. "I think we should forget everything and get to know each other officially."

She raised her arm in the air and held out her hand to him.

"My name is Bulma."she said, giving him the most radiant smile he had ever seen. "And you?"