Bulma sat silently on the floor of the living room, neatly folding all of his training suits. Oh what a day she had been through. Not only did she make a complete fool out of herself in front of Vegita, but managed to ensure her stay in this horrid temple would be that much worse. What she would give to be back in the laboratories. Listening to Bardock shout orders was better than folding the Saiyajin prince’s clothes. Bulma’s hand lingered on the top of the blue material, grasping it tightly as she relived what had happened earlier in the wash room, and just how his face had looked. A groan of embarrassment seeped through her lips.

As soon as she had heard his voice he had rounded the corner and seen her in a struggling heap on the tile floor trying desperately to wrestle out of the tight suit. Bulma’s head dropped into her cradling hands as she blushed for the hundredth time that day. The expression on his face had been the most humiliating. Of all things he could have done he had to be absolutely silent. Surely he thought her insane. His look was not that of shock, anger, hatred, or amusement, but simply blank. Bulma felt the bittersweet sting of tears but quickly blinked them away. No…the last thing she needed to do was dig herself a hole of humiliation. She still had a bit of dignity, however small it may have been. Events had unfolded beyond her control, but she could still choose how to respond. And that’s exactly what she would do—respond to him in the most calm and collected way possible. As if it had never happened. Bulma’s blue eyes glittered in determination as she made her way to the kitchen for something to drink. Maybe some tea would calm her restless nerves.

* * * * * * * * * *

Vegita hovered silently above the endless marble stone, meditating studiously. As hard and cold as his face appeared his thoughts were the exact opposite. His father had succeeded in surviving this hellish place so why was he finding it so hard to stay focused? Then again his father hadn’t had a woman with him while he tried to train. At first she hadn’t been a concern at all, but eventually he could smell her everywhere—in his chambers, the kitchen, the wash room- hell he could even smell her way out in the outer boundaries! His eyes remained shut but the flesh beneath his eye twitched. Vegita nearly grinned as he remembered her panicked face when he had walked in on her. Those huge blue eyes twinkling up at him like a pair of the rarest jewels. He was sure she would have graveled at his feet, begging him to forgive her, but she hadn’t. It had been quite the opposite actually. Vegita tensed suddenly. A prince such as himself should not be thinking about alien women slaves, no matter how attractive they may be. He hissed at himself for getting distracted so easily. Guessing that he had been meditating long enough to keep his mind focused on improving is strength and not on the woman that was poking around the platform, he opened his black eyes and prepared for an intense session. He unfurled himself and powered up to his maximum, grating his teeth as electricity danced around his tense body. Black eyes narrowed dangerously as he watched the small bolts flicker around his hand. He could feel, almost taste it…but only faintly. There was an enormous well of power deep within him yet he could not tap into it despite all his training.

"AHHHHH!" With his head thrown back, the prince of Vegitasei yelled with all his might in an attempt to break the barrier that kept him from reaching his destiny.

Bulma hummed a soft tune as she walked to the cabinet and grabbed the box of tea, preparing to make herself a cup. A faint memory of her home world tugged at her—the vivid image of a woman singing the same song, but Bulma couldn’t quite grasp who. Her shoulders shrugged indifferently as she put the water on to boil. The tune continued to fill the room as she sat down at the table, slowly flipping the pages of her current book, Saiyajin Anatomy and Physiology. It was quite interesting to see that their components were nearly identical to her own. Her eyes drifted to the wall ahead of her as she thought of nothing in particular. Focusing on the off white paint, she noticed that the walls looked a bit odd. Something was different…something was strange about them. They looked like… "Panels…" She whispered absently. The pot of water began to whistle loudly, stirring her from her seat—all previous observations forgotten. Her hand clenched the padded handle as she carried it to the counter to pour into her mug. Before she reached the other side of the kitchen her grip on the handle slipped. Bulma’s blue eyes widened as she heard Vegita’s cry. She screeched as the pot clang to the tile floor, spilling its contents against her leg. She choked on her own cry of anguish as the scalding water seared her pale skin. Hoisting herself up onto the counter, she slipped her leg into the sink basin and let the cool water run over her scarlet skin.

"Owww," she hissed. Despite her leg, she couldn’t help but wonder what would have made Vegita yell out like that. As much as she wanted him to be suffering she couldn’t lower herself to that level of cruelty. Even though he was an intolerable jerk, no one deserved to be hurt and stranded in unbearable gravity. If it weren’t for the gravity, she would have gone to see what had happened. "Eh," she began, "I’m sure he can handle himself." With her head propped on her hand, she sat atop the counter waiting for the burning to cease. Bulma pouted; she never had gotten her cup of tea.

* * * * * * * * * *

Vegita’s breath hitched in his throat as he lay exhausted on the ivory stone floor. For hours he had pushed himself in pursuit of increasing his strength in probably the most intense session he had ever completed, yet the power deep inside him wasn’t even the slightest bit brighter. As the Saiyajin prince it was his obligation to reach the Legendary level so why? Why couldn’t he accomplish what he had been bred to accomplish? His blood was of the royal line and held the ancient trait! So why?! His own anger made him cough violently, probably splitting a rib in the process. Slowly he propped himself up onto an elbow, shakily attempting to rise. If he could just get back to the platform then he would be able to sleep in normal gravity. He staggered to his feet and stood in his tattered training armor decorated with his life’s blood. The wound on his forehead dripped into his eye making him see everything in a slightly pinkish hue. Vegita desperately tried to concentrate on enough power to fly back. The warming passion of his ki threaded through his muscles as he rose into the air, barely hovering above the ground. He hoped he could make it to the damn platform.

* * * * * * * * * *

Bulma walked to her futon bed and flopped against it lazily, relishing in the soft fabric. She smiled grandly as she stretched out, only to wince as she felt her burned skin stretch as well. Hissing, she bent down to scratch lightly at the gauze wrapped around her calf. She stood and walked slowly, as to not stretch the skin anymore, over to the wash room to find some more ointment to put on her burn. As long as she kept the tender skin lubricated she’d be fine. Bulma walked into the bathroom and up to the cabinet where first aid supplies were kept. Upon opening the box she found two full tubes of cream.

"Thank God," she said gratefully. The box dropped from her grasp as nearly the whole complex was shaken violently. Bulma gasped as she was tossed into the wall. Her blue eyes widened incredibly as she attempted to run to wherever the impact had occurred. As soon as she saw what had hit the platform she screamed. "Prince Vegita!" He lay in a deep impression, no doubt created by his own bodily force, completely out cold. "Oh God," she gasped. Bulma pulled Vegita’s arm out from under him so she could drag him into the bathroom where she would be able to find the necessary medical supplies. Grunting as she heaved his massive bulk onto the countertop, her pale hand reached for his throat to check for a pulse. Bulma gasped as his hand latched onto her own.

"Get away from me, woman. I’m— " She gasped as his eyes rolled back and his hand detached from her wrist, falling with a thud on his armored chest. He wasn’t so intimidating when he was unconscious.

"So prideful even when you’re knocking on death’s door." Her blue head shook as she checked his pulse, satisfied at its strength. Bulma reached down to grab the box of supplies and began removing his armor.

* * * * * * * * * *

Vegita’s black lashes fluttered slightly as he awoke on his bed, the lights dimmed to their lowest. Huh? His room? Immediately he sat up, confused at what was going on, only to wince at the pain radiating from beneath his chest. He slid his hand down over his ribs, but was met with soft bandages, not armor. His eyes drifted down to see that he was indeed only clad in his boxers. Vegita’s cheeks heated.

"What the hell," he asked aloud, wondering what had happened to his armor. Suddenly Vegita’s attention was diverted to a strange sound coming from outside his chambers. He stepped awkwardly toward the door, fighting the lightheaded feeling. Clasping the door way, he leaned over to see the woman folding his clothes. Vegita flushed as he saw she was wearing his underwear. God, this woman had no respect for royalty. His eyes flicked momentarily to the white bandages that she had wrapped around her lower leg. A black eyebrow tweaked in curiosity but he couldn’t concentrate with that noise. What was that strange sound she was making? He stumbled unsteadily into the living room growling slightly at his own awkwardness.

Bulma hummed softly as she finished folding the laundry when she was startled by a growl. She gasped as she looked at Vegita’s perturbed face. Her hands laced together in front of her stomach as she fidgeted with her apprehension.

"Woman, what the hell happened? Where are my clothes?" Vegita noted her tense form as he approached.

"I-I threw them away. They were badly damaged..." Bulma made an extreme effort to not look him in the eye. He had never been this intimidating before. Something told her that he was not a happy prince, but to her surprise he smirked.

"Just couldn’t wait to get my clothes off, eh?" he began. Vegita watched her mouth drop open. "I guess that explains why you were wearing my training clothes yesterday; because you’re infatuated with me." Vegita watched as she turned from apprehensive to fuming mad.

"Now you listen here princey! I just saved you from whatever the hell you were doing to yourself out there. If not for me you’d have been a lot worse off. So the LEAST you could do is thank me!" Unbeknown to her, Bulma had managed to limp forward as she yelled at him and was now standing a few feet from his near naked form.

Vegita fought the urge to just double over and laugh at her. How foolish she looked limping around like that while trying to shout at him. Instead his face remained as stoic as ever. He eyed her bandaged leg for the second time.

"I am the Saiyajin Prince as well as an elite warrior, not a squabbling brat that needs to be bandaged!" Vegita pointed to her calf, "Looks to me like you’re the one who needs to be taken care of."

Bulma flushed. "I did take care of it," she replied meekly, but Vegita’s powerful voice transcended hers.

"Pathetic. What kind of species are you anyway? To think that I would need the care of a weak slave such as you is degrading." His princely stature accompanied by the fact that he was only wearing boxers amusingly made his statements less harsh, but not enough to negate the bitter tone he threw at her.

Bulma narrowed her eyes at him. She would not let him humiliate her again, not after yesterday’s incident. No, she would bide her time and get him back for this.

"Fine. If you would rather die from your own stupidity then take my medical help, then by all means please do as you will. I don’t care." Bulma turned to leave but thick fingers wrapped around her arm and pulled her back. She gasped as he hauled her up into his face.

"Watch your tone wench; be mindful of what you say to me. It is my decision to keep you around, not yours. If you make one insolent remark to me again I will put you down." He was not playing with her today. His voice was so full of malice and the coldness seeping from his eyes told no other story. As quick as he had held her, he had gone. Bulma stood, shaking from the sheer malevolence in his eyes. Vegita truly meant it – he would kill her with no thoughts about it.

Bulma’s eyes narrowed at his retreating back. How dare him! She had just helped him and this is how he repaid her? With insults and death threats?! Well fine. Two could play at that game. Bulma turned around to continue folding, but her mind was busily forming her own little revenge against the arrogant prince. She’d show him just how much more she was…more than a weak slave, "More than a weakling woman, much more." Once again, the beautiful tune filled her head as she hummed softly.

* * * * *

* * * * *This chapter basically starts the V/B relationship- but I don’t want to give anything away so you’ll just have to wait for chapter 6 to see what little miss Bulma decides to do ^^

Disclaimer/Claimer: All characters from Dragonball Z belong to their respectable owners and I am in no way staking any claim to them or to the series itself. However, this fanfic also belongs to its respectable owners and I ask that you email one of us before posting it.