Had to edit it for a few corrections. My thanks for Applescruffs and Catgirl 2 for beta-ing for me.

The Sheep and the Hedgehog

Part 5

You´ll Always be Alone Within

PLAFT! The fashion magazine landed on its piled fellows, pushing all of them down and over empty bags of potato chips, cookies, cans, and an ash-tray filled with half-smoked cigarettes. Bulma didn’t even notice it. Her eyes were set on some invisible point, much beyond the mess around herself and the limits of those four walls.

Loneliness.

Boredom.

Together or isolated, Bulma had experienced both feelings a lot of times throughout her life, but with such intensity only one time: on Namek, when her friends went to fight and she was abandoned to her own luck. For the rest of her life, that endless day would be registered in her memory as a very long nightmare. Countless times she thought that she would go crazy with boredom and loneliness _ and terror, too, for the ever-present fear of being found and murdered (or worse) at any instant. She saw only one difference between that situation and now; that now the possibility of being killed was three years in the future. Worst of all, in both, was the humiliating feeling of impotence. The fabulous Bulma Briefs, who always had been proud of making things happen, couldn’t do anything but praying and hoping that everything would end up well.

Gloomily, she glanced at the miscellaneous of magazines and food with which she had tried to fill the emptiness inside, but the only thing they actually filled was the living room. If it wasn’t Sunday, she could at least get some distraction at work, but even that was denied. In the last months, her life had resumed to working, the usual arguments with her parents and occasional visits to the mall. Even the worst depression in the world wouldn’t make slack on her appearance. Last afternoon, she had finally decided to visit the beauty parlor. Her hair was loosing its shape for having grown too much, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to come back to her usual straight style. The hairstylist, in a glint of inspiration, decided to modify the perm instead of cutting it off; now, the former bouncy curls cascaded in soft waves reaching her shoulders. It looked great, but… who’d see her beyond her parents and a few staff?

For what reminded her most her stay on Namek _ the main thing, actually _ was her isolation. It was bad enough that all her friends were more or less busy with the preparation for the Androids, but they where also angry with her. She always fought with her friends a lot, but the grudges always dissipated in a few minutes, like a summer rain and soon they behaved as nothing had happened. However, it wasn’t like that now.

All that had started when she received Chichi’s invitation to spend the afternoon together. With both husband and son out in the mountains, the Ox Princess was as avid for company as Bulma. The two women had grown on each other during the year waiting for the Saiyans, and they got along reasonably well, even having so little in common. The visit began pleasantly, with both women drinking tea at Chichi’s kitchen, and, of course, complaining about the eternal selfish children that happened to be men. Bulma started to talk resentfully about Yamcha having gone straight to the desert without even saying goodbye, but Chichi cut her off.

“Honestly, Bulma, you also shouldn’t have made him wait for all these years when you’re already supposed to be married. He’ll end up loosing his patience and marrying another girl, or going away to never come back. And then, you’ll be doomed to remain an old maid forever!”

“But I don’t want to m…”Bulma started, but Chichi kept talking without even a pause to breath:

”Oh, I know he’s a little flirty, but you’ll put him on straight after you marry him. (^^’) As soon as Yamcha comes back, hook him before you’re too old to have children.”

“I DON’T WANT CHILDREN! I don’t want to marry Yamcha! Can’t you get this through your damn head?!” Bulma wanted to scream, but, just like the rest of the Z gang, she feared Chichi’s temper. And she also realized in disappointment that Chichi never would understand her point of view, and resignedly asked about Gohan’s studying. The Ox Princess couldn’t be more pleased at the change of subject, even though she affected a tragic look. She was almost dying of worry that those three years of training would prejudice Gohan irreversibly. Alright, he still studied while he ate, at bath time and before going to bed, but he’d never become a scientist if he didn’t study the entire day, with no interruptions! Worse still, those ‘envious, disgusting men’ from the Blue Star School had refused him, claiming that he was still too young.

“Can you believe it? The same thing Daddy said! I don’t agree; the earlier you start, the more chances you’ll have later! If I had studied when I was little, now we’d be rich, instead of having to live off Dad’s money.” She glanced around the humble kitchen and sighed, sorrowfully “My only comfort is that Goku reminded me that if Gohan studied in that school all his colleagues would be older than him. They would make fun of his size and beat on him (Bulma bit her tongue to not laugh), and wouldn’t allow him to study. Oh, fortunately I didn’t put my baby with those delinquents!”

Bulma couldn’t stand it any longer and burst out laughing. She cracked up so much that couldn’t even speak, and didn’t even notice that Chichi looked shocked, and obviously hurt.

“Why, Chichi,” she breathed, “But, what’s possessed you into sending poor Gohan to such an advanced school?” she finally managed to blurt. Instantaneously, the younger woman jumped to her feet and bent fiercely over the table, pushing the cups away.

“What do you mean with poor Gohan? Are you insinuating that I’m not a good mother?”

Bulma leaned back, almost falling with the chair, but managed to fake a smile. “Of course not, Chichi, you’re a wonderful mother… no one would say otherwise. I just meant that there’s no need for you to worry about…”

Chichi bent more, her nose almost touching Bulma’s.

”What would an old maid like you would know about running a family?” she hissed, “You’ll never get a man of your own, not while you keep dressing and acting like a…like a slut!”

“’Old maid?’ ‘Slut?!’” Bulma’s blue eyes saw everything red and it was her turn to bend threateningly over Chichi. ”Why, take a look in the mirror! I always had a wonderful taste for clothes, something no one can say of you! And if I’m still not married, it’s because I DON’T WANT TO BE! I can get a man whenever I please, without having to trick a poor boy into something that he had no idea about!”

A few minutes later, when Goku and Gohan came back for a meal, they found a peculiar scene. Both Bulma and Chichi were running around the kitchen table, with Chichi carrying a heavy pressure cook in her hand. Goku tried to stop them, but received a blow to his chest that knocked the wind out of him. Finally, the two Saiyans managed to get a hold their infuriated matriarch, but they couldn’t calm her down, and she demanded Bulma to apologize. Awkwardly, Goku tried to conciliate the two women:

“Bulma, why won’t you apologize to Chichi?”

The scientist almost hit the roof. What? She was the one who deserved apologies, not the other way around! Chichi made a move to jump on Bulma again, but Goku managed to stand between both.

“You’d better go now, Bulma. Please, don’t argue.” He added, when she opened her mouth. There wasn’t another way, and now Kami only knew when she could step anywhere near Mount Paoz without risking her life. Maybe never again.

It had been even worse with Krillin, Mutenroshi and Oolong. The three perverts had come to West City because of a beauty contest, and eventually dropped by Capsule Corp. They were all reunited in the yard, having some drinks, when, for bad luck, someone mentioned Yamcha. That had been probably Bulma’s fault; she shouldn't have scolded Krillin in front of the others for telling Yamcha about her quick flirt with Zarbon, but she simply couldn't help it. Ashamedly, the small monk confessed that he had blurted that when Yamcha was around, and that the ex-thief pressed him to tell it in detail. His embarrassment was genuine and Bulma was ready to forgive him, but Oolong had to choose that moment for one of his remarks.

“Typical of Bulma. In the Tournament she wanted to know if there were fighters prettier than Yamcha.” He said, and ducked to avoid Bulma’s punch. However, the fist aimed to his head was stopped in its mid-tracks, by Kameroshi’s laugh.

“Why are you flushing so much, Bulma? A girl like you isn’t supposed to feel ashamed of anything.”

”A girl like me?” the young woman turned in his direction “What are you insinuating?”

”Please, master…” Krillen begged, but the old man was too taken by beer.

”You know perfectly well what I’m talking about,” he said with a large grin. “A decent girl like you claim to be wouldn’t play paf-paf.”

Krillen asked what he was talking about, but Oolong blanched and cowered under the table. Seeing her morality questioned that way, Bulma lost all composure.

”I AM a decent girl! You blackmailed me because you knew that otherwise I wouldn’t get the dragonball that was in the castle! But if you think I gave in to your dirty desires, you’re wrong! That wasn’t me, that was Oolong! I made him go in my place, but he hadn’t anything better to do than inventing that bloody paf-paf!”

None of the trio had ever seen Mutenroshi so angry. The old turtle man even sent smoke through his nose. He smacked Oolong with his cane, then advanced to Bulma wanting her to pay what she owed to him, which meant, to let him touch her breasts. Bulma smacked a chair on his head. Oolong started to crack up and received punches from both. They only stopped the fight when they saw Krillen walking away.

“That’s it, I’m done,” He said gloomily. “You’re all disgusting me. I can’t tell whom of the three is worse.”

A heavy silence fell over his friends. Then, very slowly, the old man and the pig started also to leave, just when Mrs. Briefs was coming with another tray of cool drinks:

“Here are your_ where are you going?”

”We’re not having anything else, thanks.” Roshi explained dryly “We’re leaving now.”

Bulma remembered perfectly what had happened next. Her mom had stood in the same place with the tray on her hands until the group was gone. Then, she turned around and asked, “Bulma, what have you done this time?”

What had SHE done? Why was everything supposed to be her fault? Why didn’t she ask what THEY had done to her? Nobody ever stood by her side! Ever! She exploded at her mother, before running to her room and slamming the door, leaving Mrs. Briefs drowning in tears. The younger woman apologized later, of course, but, for Heaven’s sake! Everybody seemed to think that! As incredible as it was, people still had followed old fashioned concepts about what a lady could or could not do. Maybe she had received an education too liberal, all right; maybe she had been also influenced somehow by her parents, err, attitudes, as much as they frequently irritated her; maybe. The point was that she always had boasted of herself as being a modern, daring woman, who followed her own impulses; however, now she realized that everyone actually saw her as a… slut. A vulgar, rude, annoying slut.

“You’ll never get a man of your own, not while you keep dressing and acting like… a slut!”

“A girl like you isn’t supposed to feel ashamed of anything.”

“I don’t know what a hedgehog is, but the description fits you.”

Could it be? Was she scaring people away with her temper? Bulma never had felt so insecure before. True that all those speeches wouldn’t have gotten to her so much, if Yamcha hadn’t said before,“You think you are the Queen of Beauty but you’re so damn annoying that no other man wants you, with pretty looks and all! except me, your eternal rug, fool enough to spend the best years of my life waiting for a spoiled, self-centered, boorish girl that doesn’t care a bean about me!”

Yamcha never would have said that if he wasn’t beside of himself. Those words had been from the bottom of his soul. Well, maybe she really had some fault for their relationship having not worked out. Bulma had never taken it too seriously, except when she caught Yamcha looking at other girls. The simple idea seemed an insult, as if any woman could have something that she hadn’t. But she never saw anything wrong about looking at other men; it didn’t affect her feelings for Yamcha at all.

Why couldn’t a woman flirt with anyone she found pretty, if practically all men _single or not _ did the same with pretty women? That was sexism. Anyway, if it had been really love between Yamcha and her, one should have been enough for the other, so they wouldn’t feel the need to flirt with other people.

She knew for a long while she no longer loved the former bandit. To be exact, since he had been wished back and appeared in front of her, all wet and with Ginyu perched on his head. He looked so happy to be back, and so… pathetic (damn, Vegeta´s language was contaminating her!) that Bulma hadn’t the nerve to tell him the truth; she would look mean if she did that. So, she let things go on. As the days passed, however, Bulma couldn’t find a way to dismiss him, for she actually enjoyed having him sticking around while the rest of her friends disappeared to live their own lives and forgot her existence. Only when she saw him with that girl did she realize how much their relationship had become a burden, not only for her, but for Yamcha, too. Poor friend. He still thought that a commitment could save what once happened between them, but on other hand, all that love and jealousy he claimed to feel hadn’t stopped him from leaving her alone with Vegeta.

Until then, Bulma had made her best to keep the Saiyan out of her mind, because to think of him was like poking a bruise that wasn’t completely healed. From the chips’ night on, he had avoided her extensively, making the point of no longer eating with her family, perhaps to prevent her from using the pee-pee on him again. Ha. Of this, he could be reassured. She had given up on being concerned about him, even when he had gotten hurt again and had to spend other night in the infirmary. Well… to tell the truth, she had even passed by to see how he was, couldn’t help it, but had gone away before he woke up. She already had humiliated herself too much, and if he wanted to kill himself or be killed, well, good riddance!

Typical of men! They could resolve everything perfectly by looking for Gero and getting him before he built the Androids. But no, the macho men had always to resolve things with their fists. Bulma started to wonder if all that Droid stuff wasn’t a great bluff and after the three years there would be no Androids or another threat to fight. It would be very funny to see those guys’ disappointed looks. And then, they would talk to her again. She could even have a party to gather everybody, if everything ended up well. And wouldn’t it? Things here were a little different than in the mysterious boy’s timeline: Goku would live, he was already a Super Saiyan and probably Gohan and Vegeta would go Super Saiyan too. Gero’s buckets of bolts would be turned into dust before they knew what hit them. Until then, however… she only could wait, and that was making her crazy.

“I wish those bloody Androids would come today, once and for all!” the scientist exclaimed aloud.

“Why? Are you so anxious to die?” asked a voice at her back. Bulma jumped, and at the same time whirled around, to see Vegeta standing behind the parlor, his usual smirk raising the corner of his mouth.

“I could stop your suffering right now, if you’ll like.” He offered.

Usually, she would have yelled at him for scaring her by entering that way. However, lonely as she was, Bulma would had given a leg to talk to anyone other than her parents, even if it was just to exchange insults. Of course she’d prefer die toasted than to let Vegeta notice it.

“No, thank you. Need something, Vegeta?” Her tone of voice was almost friendly, though not completely devoid of sarcasm. Vegeta raised on eyebrow in a mixture of surprise and disappointment. Usually, the woman jumped and screamed when someone appeared in silence like that, probably a trauma acquired during her adventures with Kakarott’s gang. The way she yelled had always amused him. Hmpf.

“Yes. I need you do two things for me. One, fix up the gravity machine.”

”Why don’t you ask my father? I’m busy.”

Vegeta just gave a look at all the mess around them, which made Bulma feel like jumping and hiding behind the sofa.

“He’s not available. I presume that, by the way you boast your knowledge about mechanics, you must serve, too. Unless you’re not what you say.”

“I don’t boast! I AM the best mechanic in the world and I’m going to show you now!” She jumped to her feet and marched to the laboratory without noticing Vegeta’s smirk. Only when she approached the spot where her toolbox was, she realized that she was doing what Vegeta wanted, and berated herself for being so easy to bait. Oh, was that so? Purposely, she took a long time pretending she couldn’t find her toolbox, then when it was “finally” found she took all the tools out and lingered on verifying if all that she needed was there, until Vegeta finally lost his patience and dragged her out of the lab and pushed her towards the ship, mumbling and cursing all the way. Bulma would have almost laughed if it wasn’t for his manners.

She examined the gravity machine. Effectively, there was damage, but something so simple that even someone inexperienced would have been able to fix it. Vegeta watched her bend over the machine and let out a gruff of disapproval. The weather was getting cooler, and she was wearing baggy pants and a T-shirt, which made her look like a brat that refused to cut his hair.

“You’re not wearing a short skirt today. “ He mumbled.

Bulma instantaneously turned in his direction.

“What’s the matter? Did you think that a ‘vulgar woman’ is not able to dress with decency?” She snarled. As soon as she said it, she felt like slapping herself. Great, Bulma. He would sneer and say: ‘Now you admit that you’re vulgar.”
But instead he just gave his usual eyebrow raising.

“You really have no manners at all.”

Surprise. Well, better being called ill-mannered than vulgar.

“You’re nobody to talk about other’s manners.” The blue-haired woman retorted as she knelt to look better at the machine damage. “Weird.” She said aloud “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was made on purpose.”

Since she had her back turned toward Vegeta, Bulma couldn’t see the way he stiffened.

“You’re saying you can’t fix it?” he sneered to disguise his tension “I knew it.”

Bulma’s eyes sent an array of sparkles from above her shoulder.

“I’m saying that it’s strange, the fact of you dragging me here just for such a little, ridiculous problem! But if my competence is not good enough for Your Majesty, you may fix it yourself! After all, as an experienced pilot, you must know something about mechanics.”

”Why do you presume that I know?”

“Because I saw your ships. They’re so small that only one person can fit in each. If your ship broke on a distant planet, what would you do? Would you write an SOS on the floor and stand with your arm crossed, just like you’re doing now, until the rescue mission came? From what I saw of those guys you used to work with, I don’t believe they’d bother themselves looking for you _ they’d probably would praise to Kami for getting rid of a pain in the ass!” she finished fixing the machine, got to her feet and dusted off her pants. The chamber needed to be swept.

Vegeta restrained a smile. She was able to think, when she wanted to.

“Each of Freeza’s soldiers has to learn a few basics about mechanic; that’s part of his training. As an elite warrior, I don’t need more than this. “

Bulma bent for her toolbox, but stopped and looked at him with hesitation. Funny, she was supposed to be relieved to be leaving, but now she realized how much she had missed their old verbal battles. To find the right, lethal response and see by her opponent’s reactions how much he had been hit; the excitement of the game made the blood run faster in her veins, sweeping away her former apathetic mood. Maybe that was the true reason why Vegeta had brought her there, wasn’t it? She almost laughed at that. Absurd. Vegeta, missing her? Looking for someone to talk to? Dream on, Bulma.

Anyway, she provoked, “For an elite warrior, you dressed like a low-class soldier”

As she expected, he glared at her.

“It wasn’t the clothes that distinguished the high-class from the scum. Even Freeza wore that armor.” He frowned “What? Why are you gaping like that?”

”It’s just… well, never mind. If I say, you’ll get angry.”

“I’ll get angrier if you don’t spit it out soon!” he snarled.

“Okay, okay. That day when you had to be in bed, I‘ve been thinking what you said about having nothing left but your pride, and… I know that has nothing to do with it, but I thought it should have been humiliating for you having to spend half-part of your life wearing that ugly uniform when you supposed to dress like a prince.”

”You don’t know anything about me and you dare to make suppositions! For your information, I never wore anything but that ‘ugly uniform’ since I crawled out of the nursery. That thing you call an ugly uniform is the standard Saiyan outfit. We created it, along with the scouter, and we used to export them for the Icejins, until Freeza stole the secret and started copying them on his own, that thief.” (Actually, both the armor and the scouter had been invented by Tufuljins, but she never would know that.)

Bulma gave an understanding nod, both satisfied for that small bit of information about Vegeta’s past, and also a little disappointed for another of her romantic childhood conceptions having vanished into reality.

“I thought that all princes dressed in velvet and minks.”

Vegeta didn’t know what mink was, but understood that she was referring to fancy clothes.

“The princes of the weak races, perhaps. Of course the members of Saiyan royalty have ceremonial outfits, but we are essentially warrior people, so we must be practical.” He said those last words mechanically, his mind traveling away. The talking about royal garments reminded him of the necklace that his father always wore, which represented the Royal Saiyan house. Vegeta used to dream about wearing that necklace, when he was a boy… now it was dust, along with his planet, as a symbol of his lost heritage…

Bulma noticed in him the same sad, faraway look that he had that day when he had expelled her from his room, but she concluded that was for other reasons. No wonder he preferred those ugly garments rather than the colorful Earth clothes she had given him. Quickly, she picked up her toolbox and hastened towards the way out, her brains already boiling with a new idea. Her foot was reaching the threshold when a blurry figure appeared from nothing. She yelped and backed away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” his question, practically an order, sounded like a whipping slash.

“I… I already finished it.”

”Did you forget I wanted something else?”

Bulma sighed.

“I think I know what it is.”

”And what is it?”

“To drive me crazy. You’ve already finished training for today and have nothing better to do, so why not tease the ‘woman’ a little? “

He stiffened unconsciously, “How do you know that I finished training?”

Bulma almost spoke about her thoughts that he had sabotaged the machine on purpose, but she didn’t know how to prove it. She looked at him from head to toe.

“You’ve already taken your bath and have changed your clothes.” She sniffed noisily “I know because you smell like mom’s soap. If you were in the middle of a training session, you’d be all sweaty and stinking like a horse.” Her mention of the sweat brought back her memories from the incident in the chamber, when Vegeta had fallen over her and she had helped him to walk. Suddenly, she felt a strong impulse to caress his chest and bend to inhale the smell from closer. She didn’t make any move that suggested such thoughts; however, Vegeta seemed to read them in her eyes, because he took a step back and started looking uncomfortable. She smirked before finishing, “Besides, jeans, shoes and a buttoned t-shirt aren’t the best clothes for exercises.” and gave a teasing wink.

Vegeta clenched his teeth and advanced with his arms extended towards her, “You like playing detective, don’t you?” He pushed her until they were back into the middle of the room “Let’s play a question game. Sit down!”

”Where? There’s nowhere I can sit!”

“Whatever. Sit on the floor, or stand up, I don’t care. “

At the lack of options, Bulma perched on the gravity machine. Carefully, to not push any of the controls, she seated herself and swung her legs, wondering what he had in mind. Vegeta had turned his back to her, with his arms apparently crossed and his shoulders tense, like he was having some kind of internal fight. After a few moments, nothing happened, and she started feeling bored and looked down. Huh? What was that?

Gingerly, she slipped off the machine and crouched, hoping Vegeta wouldn’t notice her. A glint appeared in her eyes as she recognized the small object on the floor. So, she was right! She picked it up and put it in her pocket. Vegeta heard her get down, but thought that she was probably impatient to leave. Those undisciplined earthlings hadn’t the smallest notion of self-control.

“Why did you lie to your parents about your arm?” he asked abruptly.

“H-huh?!” Bulma still had her hand in her pocket and almost jumped (for a change) “W-what… what arm?”

It took a little until she understood what he meant, then stared at her own arm, which no longer appeared even a yellowish stain anymore. She had forgotten that incident over time. An impatient grunt brought her attention back to Vegeta. He was waiting.

“You mean… why I didn’t tell anyone that you almost broke my arm, do you?”

“Hrn.”

In his language, that one was “yes”.

“Because I knew you didn’t do that on purpose, that’s all. I know that if you really wanted to hurt me, you could have done much worse. But no one would believe that, not even my parents, I think. And…” she stopped when she noticed the look on his face. My, if it wouldn’t be impossible she’d say that he was tenser than before, even a little annoyed. It was obvious that he didn’t like what he was hearing. Then Bulma was reminded of the way he had reacted when she said she cared about him because no one else would.

“Pity. I don’t need that.”

Damn bloody Saiyan pride, that didn’t allow him to accept even a little bit of kindness! But she didn’t want to hurt him again, and changed the rest of the phrase:

“… and, if they had expelled you, my mom would no longer make you crazy, and I’d lose all my fun.” She smiled and winked at him.

His expression changed. She couldn’t tell if he had believed it or not, but his muscles relaxed and the corner of his mouth rose.

“So, you admit that you like torturing me.”

“I only return what I receive.”

His grin enlarged a little more, “So, I wasn’t wrong. You’re really nothing like the rest of Kakarott’s friends. There’s a good dose of sadism in you, besides some disregard for the usual moral concepts. (Bulma didn’t like that. Now would everyone call her ‘amoral’? ) However, you’re the only one among them that doesn’t care about the fact that I’ve exterminated millions of races. Why? Only because I haven’t any other place to stay?”

She had really hurt him, that day. Hmm… Vegeta, Vegeta, you’re not as invulnerable as you claim to be. Bulma hesitated, for it wasn’t easy to put it in words and she also didn’t want to say the whole truth.

“I… I don’t know, Vegeta. Really.” She stared him in the eyes, “I’ve asked the same to myself, a lot of times. I feared you once… but not anymore, that’s weird. Maybe it’s because after all we went through on Namek that it doesn’t matter that much. Or maybe because all my friends are assassins, too, though they all have killed because they had no choice and you killed for pleasure… even though sometimes you’ve been forced, also. But if I judged you by the deaths you’ve caused, I’d have to judge the others, too, and that wouldn’t be fair.”

Her eyes…it looked like their blue was increasing in intensity while she spoke. His expression lost its impassibility, and he took another step back.

“What you mean is that I’m not that different from the rest of those insects!”

“Maybe so. You’d not be the first villain to join us.”

Vegeta was about to say he hadn’t joined anyone, but his curiosity won. “What do you mean?”

She smirked. “You spurn the boys because you think they’re all Do Gooders, don’t you? Well, what if I’ll tell you that Yamcha tried to rob us, me and Goku and Oolong, when we met? Or that Tenshinhan broke Yamcha’s leg when they first met? Or…”

Vegeta heard all that with shock, then with amusement. So, the virtuous Defenders of the Earth, so proud and filled with morality, had skeletons in their closets, too! Scarface had been a third –class thief; the Triclops and the China Doll, apprentices of assassins, and the Namekian, a pretense king of the world. It was almost comical. And the little baldy? Bulma didn’t know much about him, save his taste for girls and that he used to take advantage of Goku’s ingenuity when they were kids. But also, Krillen was a Buddist monk, he wouldn’t lower too much.

“"So, the only pure-hearted ones are Kakarott and his son." The Saiyan sneered.

Bulma ignored the insinuation.

“The point is that you guys always see the things in black and white: either someone is only good or only mean. But nobody’s entirely one way, it’s just that one of the sides is stronger than the other. That’s probably why Goku always preferred to spare his enemies. He knows that no one has the morals to throw the first rock.” There was a note of bitterness in her voice that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“And they’ve thrown rocks at you.”

“Do you think I´m a sort of bird or ?” she snapped, her automatic defensive mode turned on.

Vegeta hardly suppressed a laugh. He had simply made a guess, and she had fallen for it. It was really funny the way that woman tried at all costs to save face, the Saiyan thought, forgetting that he did exactly the same thing.

“It’s evident that your so-called friends don’t take you in much high count.” he stated calmly.

“How dare you! They are very fond of me! No one has better friends than I do.”

“Really?” Before Bulma could realize it, he was only centimeters from her. He pulled her closer, but made a face and pushed her back, then took a few steps back.

“I’ve learned a few things about you humans. One of them is that when you can’t cope with your own pathetic problems you get compensation from things, such as food, drinks and cigarettes. Your mouth smells like cigarette, and you’ve got dark circles under your eyes! Want me to believe that’s only worry about the Androids’ arrival? Or because your so-called boyfriend never came back for a visit?”

Bulma was catatonic.

“I… I…”

She wanted to explode, to say a lot of things, that she was doing great and he had nothing to do with her life, and why he was asking if he didn’t care, and… but she couldn’t. Her legs trembled, and she nervously wrung her hands together, like a child forced to confess that she did something wrong. She felt like crying, yet luckily, her eyes remained dry.

Who could tell that Vegeta, of all people, would notice her distress? And, from all, who’d imagine that he’d be the only one to whom she could open her soul?

“I’d just like to know why nobody accepts me the way I am! Every time they need an invention, or a place to stay, it’s Bulma you’ve got to help us! But when it’s me that needs a shoulder to rely on, everybody runs off or criticizes me. I’ve just learned that, deep down, all my friends would prefer that I was different. That I was more, well, modest, and that I married Yamcha.”

The prince’s eyes widened, “Are you saying you’d marry that moron just to please your good for nothing friends?”

Why did he look so shocked?

“No! Of course not! That wouldn’t make me happy, nor anyone! It’s just that I always did what I pleased without caring about what people would say. But, when everyone thinks badly about you, you start wondering if you’re really doing it wrong. On other hand, I don’t know anybody’s who’s absolutely perfect; if I accept the others’ flaws, why can’t they accept mine?”

He snorted in disdain.

“The right question is why do you Earthlings need so desperately to be accepted by someone? It’s pathetic the way you’re always concerned whether anything you do or say will be approved or not.”

“And you do exactly the opposite,” Bulma hissed venomously.

Why had she expected that he’d understand her? Idiot, she was an idiot, always trying to see something in him that wasn’t there.

Vegeta, however, seemed to take that as a compliment.

“A true warrior stands only by himself. Only weaklings have to stick together.”

“Is that why you allied yourself with Goku and the others on Namek?”

He finally whirled around to look at her. By the hateful glint in his eyes, Bulma saw she had hit the bullseye and added in,

“Or is that why you walked along with Goku’s brother and with that mustached bald guy that appeared on TV? Oh, I forgot it! He didn’t mean anything for you, or you wouldn’t have killed him.” She gloated.

Vegeta clenched his teeth.

“You insolent moron, didn’t you hear a word I’ve said? Nappa and Radditz were my servants. A good pair of incompetents, though they had their usefulness, and they would have gleefully disposed of me, if they could. You earthlings are all weak; you have other people around thinking that they’ll protect you, when you actually should train your bodies and minds to not need anyone beyond yourselves! This thing that you call ‘friendship’…” he practically spit the word “is nothing but a lie that you use to disguise the emptiness within, but that just makes you blind to your own weaknesses. It doesn’t matter if you are among a crowd or in a desert: inside, you’ll always be alone. And when death comes, you’re much more alone.”

Bulma felt as if an aura of darkness and cold had fallen upon her. That made sense. So many times, hadn’t she felt lonely even having her friends around? They had left her all alone, and in danger. All right, they had saved her later, but they were always saving people, that didn’t say that much. And how many times had she been ignored, or treated like a child? Deep down, nobody could be entirely understood; there would be always small differences that, joined together, ended up building a wall, separating her from other people. Bulma never had admitted _ not aloud, at least _ how lonely she really felt; instead, she always had bragged about how much independent and strong-willed she was. Still…

Her hand brushed her pocket, very slightly, but it was enough to remind her of the small object guarded in it. She reached in and felt its cold, though smooth, surface and its delicate curves.

No. There was some truth in Vegeta’s words, but he wasn’t entirely right. Nobody could be enough on their own all the time, not even him. Slowly, she walked towards the Saiyan until she stood right in front of him.

“Do you really believe that, Vegeta? Or are you trying to convince yourself with this poor lecture that was probably implanted in your head, along with the rest of the brainwash? Never occurred to you to question what you were taught?”

To question?

”You are the most powerful of the Saiyans, Vegeta. Never forget that.”

If he questioned that, it would be the same as admitting that… he wasn’t… he never would be… no! Never!

“Why don’t you admit, Vegeta, that there are times you don’t want to be alone? That’s why you brought me here, isn’t it? You’re as lonely as I am.”

“Don’t be an idiot. I’m not weak like you.” He faked a smirk, but a small sweat drop ran down his large forehead.

She didn’t give up.

“Admit it, you were missing our arguments! That’s why you locked me up here and won’t allow me to leave!”

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed as more sweat ran down his face.

“Besides all your flaws, you’re also presumptuous. I’m not keeping you here; you are here because you can’t stand to be away from me for too long, and I just wanted to prove that! “He strode towards the door and opened it sullenly, “Now leave! I’m wasting the precious time for my training with this silly talking!”

“Won’t you at least say thank you for fixing the machine?” Bulma said sarcastically, as she approached him. “That’s alright. Just one little thing.” She took the small object out of her pocket and raised it until it was at the Saiyan’s eye level, “Next time you need an excuse for company, don’t leave any clues where I can find them. It’s a weird place for momma to lose her hair pins, don’t you think?”

Vegeta didn’t blush as she expected; instead, he went white and his eyes bulged out, his pupils getting smaller and smaller until they almost disappeared. A vessel popped on his forehead.

“GET OOOOOOOUUUUUUUUTTTTTT!!!!” he burst out with all the air in his lungs, literally blowing the young woman out, through the opened door. Bulma hadn’t even landed on the grass and the door had already been slammed.

“Hey! My toolbox is in there!” she jumped to her feet and pounded on the door. There was no response, but she thought she heard something being broken inside.

Weighing the pros and cons, it was better to let it be.

“I can get them back later.” She smiled as she strode back home. She’d probably never see those tools again, which was a pity, for she had some since she was five. But she couldn’t get very sad. Vegeta’s reaction had been a complete confession. He was probably dying with shame now, after learning how easy it was to see through his ways. “Pathetic”.

“I think I’m going to the movie. Alone, but what’s the deal? I’m a beautiful, independent girl, and I don’t need to damage machines with hairpins to get company.”

“Ah, Bulma, there you are!” greeted her father when she entered the living room. The old man noticed with pleasure that his daughter looked much better, after so many weeks moping around. “You look very pretty today! Has anything happened?”

”I’m always pretty, Daddy. And what could have happened? Vegeta, of course! He pestered me to fix the gravity machine because you couldn’t.”

The old man’s eyes widened behind his glasses.

“He said that? Funny, I tried to talk to him a couple of minutes ago!”

“You tried to talk to him?!” Bulma repeated, remembering the way the prince had emphasized that he had only had her fix the machine because her father couldn’t.

“Yes. I’ve wanted to show him a new model of training robot for a while, but he’s always confined in that ship and I almost never see him here. Today, when he finally showed up, I tried to call him, but he hurried past me without even one look!” he scratched his mustache, confused “This boy is really crazy!”

“He’s a liar, that’s what he is.”

“Why do you say that?”

”Because he damaged the gravity machine on purpose, as a pretense to make me come and give him some company! Can you imagine such an absurd?”

Dr. Briefs fixed his glasses.

“Oh. He must be feeling very lonely.”

“That’s the point! If he feels so lonely, why can’t he just put his pride aside and admit he needs a friend, just like any other person? That attitude is ridiculous!

The old man caressed his cat perched on his shoulder.

“Dear, do you remember the old Fluffy?”

“Who?”

“He was one of my first cats. You were probably four or five, then.”

“How can you expect I remember all the pets you had, Daddy?” Bulma huffed impatiently and started to leave the room, but the old man hadn’t finished. “Oh, well. I adopted him after your mother caught him stealing food. He had bruises and all over, the poor thing. The doctor offered to put him down, but we didn’t allow that. He was so filled with life! Even in his state, he was fierce and didn’t allow anyone to come around. Even you feared him.”

“And you kept a cat like that?” his daughter rolled her eyes, hoping that the reminiscences finished soon.

“It wasn’t Fluffy’s fault he was the way he was. When he was an alley cat, everybody treated him badly. He probably never knew what it was to be cared about, until he came here. One traumatized animal takes months, even years to get over the things it went through, just like humans. Fluffy ate like a king and had a cozy, warm bed, but he initially didn’t trust us. However, I know that he liked living with us.”

Bulma rolled her eyes.

“Of course he did, he had free food and a place to stay!”

“It wasn’t only for that. Sometimes, when I worked in the lab, he appeared and sat in a corner to watch me. He spent hours like that, just watching, until he fell asleep. I ended up bringing his bed to my lab, and Fluffy began to spend more of his time there, with me. However, he took ages to allow me to pet him, and never let me pick him up. But I knew he liked me, because he never got to trust anybody else, not even your mother. And he always got angry if he saw me pampering another pet. He wasn’t like Scratch, of course,” the doctor petted his cat again “but I missed him a lot when he died.”

He continued, “Y’know, cats are proud and independent, and they’re not as affectionate as dogs are. That’s why many people think cats live with us only out of necessity but I think you can get a bed and food anywhere. If you can get food anywhere else, you must not stay here only out of necessity, can you?”

”But what has that got to do with Vegeta?”

The old man blinked, as though as he had woken up suddenly.

“With Vegeta? Nothing. I was just remembering one of my old pets…” then he left, with Scratch hanging from his shoulder.

Bulma watched him go thoughtfully. She was sure that her father wanted to insinuate something about Vegeta. Despite his distractedness, her dear old father saw much more than you would think. Ah, nonsense. Vegeta, cats, pride… Cats at least purred to show their fondness when someone caressed them; that ungrateful Saiyan wasn’t able to return the good you did to him in any other way but kicking you. She shook her head and went to dress up for the movie.

The next day, however, she found her toolbox resting on the balcony of her laboratory.