Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Accidental Redemption ❯ NEW HORIZON ( Chapter 11 )

Thanks to Meliza Mac, Shen Long and Kyra Fable for making this chapter presentable. To those who are following this ficy I just wanna say that I'm truly sorry for taking so long with this instalment, especially considering where the last one left off >_< Thanks for your patients everyone, and Spinni especially ~ this one's for you girl! Real life has been a complete bitch these last few months, but hopefully things will quiet down in the final quarter of the year, i.e. giving me more time to write, but I don't wanna make promises I can't keep. At the very least, this chapter is chockfull of B/V goodness and hopefully it will make up a teensy weency bit for the long wait O_o Enjoy!

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ACCIDENTAL REDEMPTION

By Evil Saint

XI. NEW HORIZON

*Wake me up inside

Call my name and save me from the dark

Bid my blood to run

Before I come undone

Save me from the nothing I've become

Vegeta had taken a vigil on the balcony he shared with his hostess, sitting on the concrete side barrier with his arms crossed and his back propped against the wall. He'd tried to watch television as Bulma suggested ~ merely for the lack of anything more appealing with which to occupy his time. The device had been of some use in broadening his understanding of the human ways when he'd first moved in with the Briefs, but he'd never found the broadcasted spectacles particularly entertaining and the current programmes were almost painfully trite. He'd grown bored after only a few minutes' worth of channel surfing and decided to follow the progress with the pod's repairs instead, bringing him to his present perch.

Normally such vapidity would've eaten away at the edgy warrior, but the sights and scents of early autumn lulled his demons, the near midday sun shining with an effervescence that even the viscous oblivion of his past could not quell and for once he actually found the inactivity somewhat relaxing. Tilting his head back to rest against the sloping dome the prince gazed lazily up at the blue cupola of Earth's heaven, tinted white with swirls of fleece clouds, looking as though they'd been painted there by an artist's brush. Reflected light brightened the azure expanse to a paler shade of aquamarine as it touched the horizon, ruffling like iridescent cloth in the heated air rising from the gleaming metropolis in the distance. A corner of his mouth twitched briefly upward with the stirring of déjà vu, unearthing a long buried memory of him admiring a strikingly similar scene as a young boy on his home planet. The balcony adjacent to his rooms in the palace had given him a spectacular view of Planet Vegeta's own capitol, the nerve centre of the Saiyan Empire, and he was quite fond of watching the sanguine brilliance of the twin suns engulf the city at the end of the day between cleaning up from training and sitting down to dinner with his father and a few favoured consorts.

The habit was just another of many things he'd lost after his homeworld's demise. He had nary a minute to spare for such frivolities while Frieza drew breath; not that the warships, spacepods or the numerous barracks' he'd called home ever afforded a notice worthy view. It wasn't something he'd consciously missed until that instant, but then, such redundant little epiphanies had been assailing him rather frequently since coming to Earth.

While under the Iceling's rule, he'd spent his every waking moment streamlining his awareness, tuning out everything except what was needed to ensure his next breath, but things were different now. He was free and living in lavish comfort compared to what he was used to, the perpetual threat of death no longer looming over his head. The cold, calculating, single-minded focus that had sustained him for so long had become all but obsolete here on this secluded blue sphere and without the distractions of bloodshed and mayhem to occupy his mind, his thoughts were straying down avenues he'd never cared to explore. He had no regrets of course ~ if he'd done anything differently, he wouldn't have lived to see the end of the reptile's reign ~ but still he caught himself wondering about his past and daring to imagine what his present would've been had his life not been torn asunder on a tyrant's whim. It wasn't so much the prestige of being king or the power of ruling an empire that intrigued him, but the thought of actually fitting in somewhere; of again experiencing the almost forgotten sense of belonging he'd known only fleetingly on the planet of his birth…

Vegeta's pensive reflection was cut short as sudden activity from the GT-pod caught his attention. The buzz of the newly activated generator drifted up from the lawn and looking down he could make out the flickering of incandescent light inside the structure.

"At least she's got the power back on." He thought with a gleeful grin softening the hard frown his previous train of thought had settled on his lips. He could still feel the effects of the last few nights' insomnia, but the pod's brief abeyance had provided him with some much-needed rest and he was quite eager to get on with his training. He had yet to change into workout clothes though, and hopped off the barrier onto the balcony floor, feeling the sun's rays caress his back as he turned toward his room to do just that. He lingered a minute longer, revelling in the gentle warmth seeping through his shirt as he stretched to realign his vertebrae, yawning with glinting ivory fangs and tail falling free from beneath his T-shirt to curl lethargically behind him. Rubbing a last kink from his neck, he started towards the door, but froze mid-stride as the hiss of the sealing hatchway unexpectedly sliced the air, followed by the distinctive whir of the gravity simulator's activation sequence. Bemusement creased the Saiyan's brow as his head whipped around to investigate and he veered completely upon seeing the bright red light streaking from the portholes onto the grass.

"What the f…?!" The gravity chamber was indeed in use, but that didn't make any sense. The simulation could only be activated from within as a safety precaution and if he was out here then how…?

Intuitively, Vegeta scanned for his housemate's energy signature and his entire body went rigid with quailing shock as he got a lock on her… inside the pod!

~*~*~*~

Searing terror exploded in Bulma's chest, coursing hotly though her veins as her body weight climbed exponentially with each roll of the red numbers on the indicator screen, systematically crushing her beneath the weight of her own flesh. The gravity was rising rapidly ~ two, three Gs per second ~ and in the blink of an eye it had spiked to seven times the norm, plastering her to the floor and making it difficult to draw suddenly heavy air molecules into her lungs. The strain increased with every millisecond that ticked by, transforming her body into a throbbing heap of agony, and at 12 Gs the world turned black as her eyes popped under the immense pressure. She would have screamed if she wasn't completely unable to breathe, feeling skin tear and tendons stretch, her flesh threatening to peel from her bones as she was drawn down with a G-force of 16. At 18 Gs she felt the pull of unconsciousness railing her in as her organs started to rupture, the blood being drawn into her swelling limbs… and then she knew no more…

~*~*~*~

The Saiyan reacted impetuously and leapt over the ledge, bolting to the craft with a burst of energy that shattered every window on the western side of the house, heading straight for the outer panel behind which the power generators were located. Though it was possible to shut the gravity down from the outside ~ another safety measure, in case Vegeta got hurt and someone needed to get to him ~ there was no time to fiddle with keypads and deactivation codes as Bulma's energy dimmed with each passing instant. Vegeta ripped the metal sheet away with lightening speed, oblivious to the nuts, bolts and screws flying like stray bullets in every direction and a split-second later, the machine's entire power supply had been reduced to hissing globs of molten metal and crackling wires, immediately shutting down all functions.

Only a few seconds had passed since the pod had stirred to life. The simulator couldn't have powered up by much, but humans were infinitely fragile and the woman especially so. Quickly, Vegeta reached for Bulma's life-force again and found it flickering like a candle in the wind. Without hesitation he fired a second blast at the ruined generators to breach the hull and shot through the gaping hole into the pod, barely mindful of the glowing titanium dripping precariously from the rim.

He saw her lying prone and still near the centre controls with the familiar smell of adrenaline laced blood permeating the air and his heart froze momentarily before gearing into overdrive, pounding as though it would burst from his chest if he ventured any closer. The prince growled fiercely, wrenching himself from the absurd inertia and darted toward her, kneeling at her side. Her face and neck were marred with ugly purple bruises from ruptured capillaries, her expression a contorted mask of pain. Blood streamed unchecked from her sunken eye sockets as well as her nose and lips and the way she took in air in ragged, shallow gulps belied a great deal of internal tissue damage; possibly broken ribs as well. Her overalls were ripped in places and several fasteners had caved under the force to expose the white tank top she wore underneath, dyed red from the gashes her bra had cut into her flesh. Her arms and legs were still mostly concealed by the bright yellow garment, but steadily expanding dark patches stained the material as blood flowed freely from the wounds beneath, pooling gruesomely around her form.

Was she truly that frail; that easy to harm? How was it possible for a body so delicate to contain a spirit as indomitable as hers?

"Stupid, reckless weakling." Vegeta scolded the unconscious female under his breath, gathering a tiny amount of ki in his index finger and swiftly, but carefully cut away the rest of her overalls to assess her wounds. He was angry with both her and himself for their equal shares of blame in this disaster. He never should've left her alone and she shouldn't have turned the damnable machine on without him present. His pride insisted that his ire was due to the pod's destruction and the inevitable loss of training time the repairs would entail; that his concern for the bitch on the floor stemmed from his need for her mechanical expertise and nothing more, but his arrogance was becoming less convincing by the second as the full extent of her injuries became apparent. The damage to her body was severe ~ more so than he'd ever thought possible for such a small increase in gravity to cause ~ and his nerves grew taut as unequivocal fear for her life ensnared him in its chilling tentacles.

The cold-blooded killer in him surged forth defensively, calling on vision of the scores of beings that had lain at his feet throughout his purging years, their faces petrified in frightened horror as the ground gorged on their blood. He'd felt no anguish for them and by the Legendary, the Earthling was no different!

"But why then, Prince Vegeta, does the though of her death make your chest ache and your insides twist as though you're going to be sick?" challenged an annoying little voice inside his head ~ sounding precariously like the wench on the floor.

Vegeta gnashed his teeth when his ego remained disturbingly quiet at the taunt and he abruptly shoved all ambivalence aside, forcing himself to concentrate on saving the woman instead. His motives for doing so would have to be stowed for later scrutiny as he wracked his brain to determine what the most efficient course of action would be. To a human, the obvious answer would've been to call an ambulance, but Vegeta was an alien warrior, raised on the theatres of war. When he was wounded in battle he had only his comrades to rely on for help, unless they too were injured, and more often than not, his own mulish determination was all that pulled him through.

The woman was no warrior though, and in Vegeta's mind, he was the only thing standing between Bulma and certain death. The most urgent problem that needed to be addressed was the scarlet rivers streaming steadily from her rent flesh. If the blood loss wasn't staunched fast she would go into shock and then all would be lost. It was too risky to move her, but the small medicine cabinet in the pod's restroom contained only basic supplies which would be of little help in the current crisis. The more potent treatments were stored in his bathroom in the house and so with a greater feat of will than he would've liked, Vegeta pried himself away from her, retracing his steps to the balcony and rushed to the washroom while mentally compiling a list of everything he'd need to stabilise the woman.

Within a few seconds of leaving Bulma's side, Vegeta was rifling through the built-in medicine locker, all the while keeping a tab on her dwindling energy signature and struggling to hold his rising panic under control. Items fell in his hasty search, and if not for the plummeting of various bottles of painkillers, he wouldn't have noticed the small brown satchel, looking garishly out of place among the pristine white containers and sterile wrappings of the other medication.

He stilled upon noticing the pouch and had to blink twice to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. He had seen those healing seeds of Kakkarot's stored in similar packaging, but not in all the months he'd been training himself senseless had there ever been any at the mansion to aid his recovery. Could it be that the woman had recently acquired some without telling him?

He would've been cross with her if he wasn't so desperate for a way to keep her alive, but then again, such strokes of good fortune were contrary to everything life had taught him and it felt almost surreal as he watched himself reach for the tiny purse. His fingers fumbled to undo the knot that sealed the opening, pulling the drawstring to inspect the contents and…

"Thank Kami!" The warrior released a breath he hadn't been aware of holding, relief washing over him in glorious, golden waves as his fist tightened around soft leather and he spun on a dime, dashing back to the gravity pod to save his hostess' life.

~*~*~*~

A wry, burning tang in her mouth and a flush of heat in her gut were the first sensations to greet Bulma as awareness returned in a dizzying whirl. Her back arched reflexively as spasms wracked her form, forcing the blood from her air passages in a harsh, choking heave to clear the way for much needed oxygen. She lay back, panting as the seizure calmed. Her eyelids retracted of their own accord and she found herself staring blearily up at the spiky haired, wide-eyed visage of her housemate, hovering mere centimetres from her own. For a split second she thought he looked…worried, but her newly regenerated pupils stung with the sudden invasion of light, forcing her to blink and when she looked again his features held only their usual austerity.

He sat back on his heels as she awoke, giving her some breathing space and Bulma rose up as well; her head spinning as the memories of the past few minutes came crowding back to her. She reached up with a quivering hand to feel her hair matted against her scalp, her face sticky with clotting plasma. More than a little shaken, her gaze traversed the length of her torso and she gasped upon taking in the large quantity of blood she was drenched in. Her overalls lay around her in blackened, crusty rags while her drying shorts had turned to sandpaper against her thighs. Her shirt clung uncomfortably to her breasts and… Wait a second!

"Hey, what the hell did you do with my bra, you pervert?!" Bulma snapped, her voice shrill from lingering fright and mortification at the thought of Vegeta having tampered with her underwear while she was knocked out. The Saiyan flinched at her tone, evidently not having expected her to screech at him.

"It was imbedded in your chest, idiot. I didn't feel like listening to your insufferable bitching if it was made a permanent part of your anatomy so I removed it before giving you that seed of Kakkarot's. Maybe I should've left it on tough, `cause anything would've been better than an eyeful of your hideous tits!" He barked with exaggerated animosity, and shot to his feet, stalking into the pod's living quarters.

Fear was not an emotion that either of them handled well. Rage was far more comfortable and easier to express, and though Bulma was momentarily taken aback by his crudeness, she recovered swiftly as her own temper flared to life.

"Yeah? Go fuck yourself, Your Assholeship! You're just bitter `cause the only way you'll ever get a woman naked on this planet is if she's unconscious… or dead!" She retaliated with her own brand of waspish profanity, shedding the remnants of her overalls and rose to stand on shaky legs. It was only then that she noted the abnormal abundance of light streaming into the ship and she turned to see the hole Vegeta had blasted in the side of the pod. She stared at the open maw, feeling the adrenaline induced rage clear from her mind like mist from the ocean at sunrise and nearly sank to her knees as she realised just how great a debt she owed to the irascible warrior.

If it weren't for Vegeta she'd be dead at that moment.

He'd destroyed the power generators and melted the hull to get to her; he'd found her a senzu bean and even made sure that she wouldn't suffer complications after recovery.

"And you thanked him by insulting both his honour and his pride. Way to go Bulma." She bit down on her bottom lip and turned her remorseful gaze toward the pod's living quarters, the sounds of running water hitting the sink indicating that the Saiyan was busy washing up. She absently palmed her hardening hair as she deliberated between going forward to the house for a shower or backward into the small compartment to properly thank her rescuer. The metallic odour of blood was nauseating and she was keen to wash away the ghastly evidence of her trauma, but after a moment's consideration Bulma realised that, shaky as things already were between her and Vegeta, this might well be her only chance to clear the air between them. She wasn't about to waste it and so with a stifled sigh, she wheeled around and staggered toward the restroom to make amends.

Vegeta was standing at the basin with his back to the world, pointedly ignoring her as she appeared in the portal separating the tiny bathroom from the cramped living area. He was naked from the waist up and Bulma couldn't help but notice how his perfectly defined muscles bulged and flexed beneath his caramel skin, harmonising fluently with his movements as he washed. His blood stained shirt lay in a discarded bundle on the open shower's floor and Bulma knew that it was probably ruined. It was a shame, though. He'd looked damn good in it, but then, she had yet to find an outfit that didn't flatter the prince's magnificent physique.

"You blasted your pod to rescue me." She observed gingerly in hopes of coaxing a reply from her stoic saviour, clutching her elbows self-consciously as she awaited his response. From Vegeta's tense bearing it seemed that he was likely to throttle her if she came within grabbing distance, but a growing irrational part of her yearned to collapse against his chest as the doorframe steadied her against a mild spell of vertigo. The senzu may have regenerated her body in mere seconds, but her mind would take longer to recover and the stress of her ordeal was still wreaking havoc on her psyche.

"Clearly, you'd already fucked it up beyond repair." Vegeta grumbled dryly, still cleansing himself and refusing to face her.

Bulma's eyes narrowed at his accusing words. A twinge of guilt in her belly spurred the habitual impulse to challenge him, but she bit the inside of her cheek and kept quiet. She didn't have the gall to cross him; not after what he'd done for her. Besides, even getting accosted was preferable to being alone ~ with nothing to distract her from the fact that she'd almost been pulverised by her own father's invention. She just wished her stupid brain would stop dredging up snippets from the reoccurring dream she'd had of the Saiyan saving her from a watery grave. She used to think the nightmare was harrowing but getting up close and personal with one's own mortality was far worse in actual fact than anything her vivid imagination had been able to conjure.

If Vegeta hadn't been there…

"What happened, Woman?" The gruff inquiry pulled her from her morbid thoughts and Bulma tore her eyes away from a spot on the floor to look at him, blinking owlishly. He was facing her now with his hands braced on the sink, tail sweeping as he stared her down with the same hawk-like intensity he always held when questioning her. His unwavering, black regard would've sent most grown men to their knees, but Bulma was quite accustomed to it and it wasn't his stare that bothered her. It was perfectly reasonable for him to want answers as to why he had to blow his most coveted possession to shit, but it was the pitch of his voice that caught her off guard. She'd expected him to be lived, to shout and scream and curse at her for what she'd cost him, but instead there was a strange calmness to his tone; not the usual cold edge of barely bridled temper she knew only too well, but an almost softening of his lilt that seemed completely out of place in the current setting.

"It was a software error. I fixed all the busted parts in the control unit, but when I turned on the computer the screen went crazy and the next the next thing I know I'm becoming part of the décor… I'm sorry… I… I shouldn't have… I'm sorry…" Her voice shrank and the words became lodged in her throat as all the trials and tribulations of the past months seemed to unify in that moment, crashing down on her in a tidal wave of adversity that threatened to drown her. It wasn't enough for alien tyrants to want to destroy her planet or her childhood sweetheart to leave her for a tumble in the sheets with a brain-dead nympho. No, she had to get damn near crushed to death in her own backyard for good measure and to top it all off, the nearest person that even knew about all her misery was a sociopathic monkey-boy who, in all likelihood, cared more about getting a piece-of-crap machinery fixed than whether she lived or died!

A wayward crystalline droplet slid from the corner of her eye, trailed along the side of her nose, streaked through a red smear on her cheek and finally disappeared somewhere along the curve of her jaw as her body began to tremble. The first in a series of dry sobs tore through her weary form and she turned away from the Saiyan's merciless appraisal, resting her back against the opposite side of the bulkhead and sagged to the floor as she allowed her tears to fall freely. She knew she was making a complete fool of herself, but at that point she was just too drained to mind.

Vegeta stood frozen as he stared at the empty doorway in bewilderment, grimacing at the soft whimpers emanating from the other side of the wall. He'd been wary of how the woman's fragile human psyche would handle an experience as she'd just endured, but when she'd insulted him after waking up he'd been somewhat relieved before outrage set in, thinking that maybe she was alright. Clearly, he'd been mistaken. What he should do about it though, was an open question. He had half a mind to leave her in the craft to sob it out on her own, and head to his mountain for some intensive meditation until the woman had regained enough of her faculties to be useful again. It was a sound plan, but his legs didn't seem willing to follow his brain's commands to walk out on her. A bizarre protective impulse ~ the very same that wanted him to kill her weakling ex-mate for causing her grief and that had lead him to obliterate the pod without a second thought ~ had taken hold of him and was keeping him rooted to the spot. She'd seemed so vulnerable leaning against the entrance, still coated in the vestiges of her wounds; why she hadn't gone to her room to bathe was beyond him, but knowing her, she was probably anxious to get clean and perhaps washing up would calm her down a little. It was worth a try on the off chance that she'd cease her incessant snivelling and besides, he could always change his mind and leave if she didn't shut up.

Vegeta picked up the moistened hand towel he'd used to wipe her blood off himself and rinsed it thoroughly until the crimson stains were reduced to faint pink imprints in the otherwise beige fabric. When the terrycloth had regained most of its original colour, he wrung it out and walked though the doorway to find her sitting with her back against the bedroom wall, her legs drawn up as she bawled pathetically into her knees. The prince did his best to summon some disgust at her display, but it was half-hearted as images of his own ignominy preceding his death on Namek flashed though his mind.

She didn't appear to notice him as he crouched beside her with his natural stealth, peering at her shaking form and marvelling inwardly at how small she seemed right then. He reached out a hand to get her attention, hesitated, then gathered his courage and placed it gently on her shoulder. She started at the contact and her sobbing quieted momentarily as her head whipped up to look at him, her wide jewel-coloured eyes contrasting starkly with the caking blood covering most of her face. He held the cloth in front of him like a flag of surrender, feeling horribly self-conscious and gestured for her to take it. Bulma's eyes lowered swiftly to his offering before darting incredulously back to his. She looked puzzled as if the notion of him showing her the simple courtesy of providing something to clean herself with was too unfathomable for her genius brain to compute. His eyes narrowed in annoyance at her inaction and before he could stop to reconsider, he brought the cool material to her face, more roughly than he'd intended, but not so as to cause her pain. He held it still against her skin, giving her a chance to object if she chose. She blinked a few times in discomposure, but didn't pull away and after a moment he began moving the towel in tiny circles against her porcelain skin, wiping the blackening ooze from her features with a gentility that surprised them both.

Vegeta had no explanation for his actions. All he knew was that he wanted to be there for her, as she had been there for him on more occasions than he liked to remember. Each time he'd been injured she was there, lashing him with that razor sharp tongue of hers for his lack of prudence, though her harsh words were always contradicted by the care and tenderness she put into cleaning and dressing his wounds. It was a strange feeling, tending to another creature for the simple sake of providing comfort. Strange, but not bad…

There had been occasions where he'd pulled Raditz and Nappa from the battlefield to prolong their pointless existences, but his motives were self-serving. He couldn't be a commander if he had no crew and if his men were to perish, Frieza would likely toss him in with the Ginyu or Kuui's squad in which case he'd be the one following orders and he couldn't allow that. However, as he sat with this woman, there was nothing to gain from carefully wiping blood and tears from her face, and yet he stayed for no reason other than seeing her features relax under his touch.

He continued cleaning her until the towel had taken on a dappled crimson pattern and although she hadn't stopped crying entirely, her sobs had quieted considerably and weren't nearly as irritating as before. At long last he brought the towel away from her face and leaned back against the bulkhead with Bulma following suit.

The silence became loaded after a moment and Vegeta got to his feet, in sudden need of an escape and returned to the bathroom under the guise of rinsing the rag again. His mind and heart were engaged in bloody warfare as he tried to make sense of his muddled emotions. His own behaviour was confusing him and there were few things he hated more than being confused. He dropped the towel in the sink with a slosh and stared hard at his reflection in the small mirror above the basin as if his reflected self held the solutions to all his troubles and would provide them if he could merely stare the bastard down.

"V-Vegeta…"

The Saiyan glanced over his shoulder to see Bulma darkening the doorway at his back, looking at him with an expression he'd never seen on her face before. She peered studiously at him, seemingly searching his countenance with an urgency that bordered on desperation. His brow creased slightly in puzzlement and he turned to face her, studying her in return and was confounded to see standing tears in her eyes. His scowl deepened, wondering what could possibly have upset her again, when she let out a small, whimpering sniffle ~ the only warning he got before she flung herself against his chest, clinging to his shoulders as if her life depended on it.

Galvanised by some unknown instinct, the prince's right arm shot around her waist as she collided with his torso and so there he stood, stupefied at the unexpected turn of events. He would've been furious; would've thrown her off and berated her for her impertinence had he been able to think beyond the exquisite feel of her body's every soft curve and dip moulding against his own. Her scent flooded his airways, filling his lungs and infusing with his blood like a potent incendiary, igniting swirls of fire in his veins. Reason was shrieking at him to shove her aside and get as far away from her as his energy would take him, but he couldn't bring himself to break the delectable contact between their bodies as all his unsatisfied ruts of the past year came back to haunt him.

His heart throbbed in his ears, leaving him somewhat light-headed as blood drained from his cerebrum in a swift southward surge. He felt his tail bristle in excitement and quickly anchored it firmly around his calf before it could wander, the pressure sending sharp prickles of pleasure racing up his spine and nearly biting his tongue in half with the effort of keeping quiet.

He had never been so close to her for a purpose other than intimidation before and now he knew why his survival instincts had always urged him to keep her at a distance. Her proximity was driving him insane. It boggled the mind: the perfection with which this alien's body fit to his and if that wasn't trying enough on his control, the palpable scent of her bloodied clothes called to savage beast within him ~ an aphrodisiac in its finest form, heightening his attraction tenfold.

To his horror, Vegeta found himself fighting a losing battle against his body's insistent demands that he throw her to the floor and apply a far more exhilarating technique to elevate her spirits. Mercifully though, the human was fully engrossed in her bawling and she didn't appear to notice his rising excitement. He thanked Kami for the fact that he was wearing a loose pair of jeans in place of formfitting training shorts and hastily endeavoured to focus on her flaws, on her weakling friends and everything else there was to loath about her ~ anything that could help quell his growing desire…

After what seemed like aeons, Bulma finally stopped trembling and lifted her face from Vegeta's chest to look into the smouldering caverns of his eyes. He looked down at her hesitantly and was indeed grateful when he established that she was no longer crying. He managed to gather enough composure to pry himself away from her luscious flesh, praying that she'd remain ignorant of the faint blush staining his face ~ not to mention the cause, bulging further down on his anatomy. He held her steady at arms length and searched her cerulean eyes until he was certain that the coast was clear on all accounts. He was just about to let out a breath of relief when she did something completely unexpected and far worse than her asinine sobbing… She confided in him…

"Oh Kami, Vegeta… *sob*… what am I going to do? I can't go on like this … *sob*… I've been with Yamcha… *sob*… since I was only a kid. I don't know how… *sob*… to be without him anymore…"

Her words hit him like a bucket of ice water, callously freezing his body form the inside out. He could hardly believe what he was hearing and his upper lip drew back in a silent snarl as her words sank in. She'd almost lost her life; he'd lost his pod and Kami knew how many training hours to save her, hell he'd even lowered himself to console her, and she was still fixating on that guileless fornicator?!

"Shut up Woman!" He hissed past bared canines, his tail snapping about erratically as bitter fury coursed through him, washing away the trickle of compassion that had wound its way into his heart.

"… You sicken me, you know that?! How can you allow that worthless bastard's rejection to reduce you to this?! You say you can't live without him, but you haven't even tried!" He spat ~ almost yelled ~ mere centimetres from her face as he pinned her with the most baleful stare he could muster.

"I... I don't know what to do." She squeaked, startled by the oblique reprimand. She'd all but forgotten who she was dealing with as he washed her with the tenderness of a long time lover.

"Bathe. Eat. For Kami's sake, sleep! Then maybe you could start thinking about actually delivering on those drones you promised me over a month ago! But first you will see to it that this piece of shit gets back in working order…" He growled, gesturing at the ship with a jerk of his head and a roll of his eyes "… I don't care how you accomplish it, but you will have it done before I return. You have until nightfall." He ordered heartlessly and stalked past her to the door of the small compartment, his tone stark with an unvoiced "or else" that Bulma had no desire to explore. Cautiously, she followed his movements in her peripheral vision, tracking him as he marched determinedly out the open doorway, but he didn't leave immediately as she thought he would. Instead, he came to a stop just beyond the portal with his back to her, his thick biceps bulging with the flexing of his fists at his sides, as if he was unsure of his next move.

"You don't need him, Woman. You are stronger than that." The words were spoken as a command, yet so low that Bulma had to strain her ears to hear him. She couldn't see the expression he wore, but his tone was uncharacteristically earnest, and she felt something warm kindle in the cooled pyres of her heart.

"Where're you going?" She asked quickly as he moved to leave, wishing wistfully that he would return and hold her again.

"To kill something." He answered quietly, yet with an underlying malice that stopped her from questioning him further. His footsteps fell soundlessly over the smooth floor and she felt his energy abandon her as he walked away. When he was truly gone, she breathed deeply and left the pod as well to do as the prince had instructed.

~*~*~*~

"What a day…" The young heiress thought with a travesty of a grin playing on her lips, her inner voice jaded with fatigue and a hint of grim awe as she dressed after her third shower in twenty-four hours. She hadn't really needed this last one, but the coppery scent of blood still haunted her and though the warm water and floral aroma of her expensive body oils did little to vanquish the phantasmal odour from her senses it did help to relieve some of the tension from her overstrained body. Hers had always been a charmed life. She was used to coping with bizarre ordeals but this day's happenings had been a little too intense, even for her, and she just wanted it to be over.

The last of the battalion of contractors she'd hired to replace the broken windows were finishing up downstairs and though it took some doing, she'd managed to secure a new GT-pod form Capsule Corp's high security storage vault in the city. She'd had a hell of a time explaining what had happened to the previous ship and, more importantly, why it was so urgent for her to replace it, but Bulma Briefs did not take "no" for an answer and with her copious amounts of natural charm ~ and a few choice threats when that didn't work ~ she'd gotten what she wanted in the end. The broken pod had been packed up in a crate, the encapsulation mechanism not having survived the Saiyan's assault, and was now sitting in her work shed awaiting repairs, while a brand spanking new ship had taken up residence on the lawn, ready for Vegeta's use.

Well, almost ready…

Five gravity pods had been built from Dr. Briefs' original design after the first was destroyed on Namek; two of which were still encapsulated in the CC vault and one having been sold to the American government for a nice chunk-a-change out of Uncle Sam's wallet. Vegeta's original pod had been the only one modified for such extreme gravitational pulls however, and the craft currently crowding the garden only went up to the original max setting of 100 Gs. It was better than nothing, but Bulma knew all too well that the self-centred Saiyan wouldn't see it that way. The gold, red and orange hues of sunset had already made way for the deep violet shroud of nightfall and Bulma was surprised ~ albeit grateful ~ that the prince hadn't yet burst into her room to throw a world-class hissy fit over the new pod's inadequacy. She knew it was only a matter of time though, and hoping to savour what little calm remained before the storm, she switched off the lights in her room, not wanting to spoil the dark tranquillity of the night's descent and ventured onto her balcony to appreciate the view, thankful that she was able to enjoy anything at all that day.

The tiles were cool beneath her bare feet as she felt her way to the railing, leaning on it with folded arms as her eyes instinctively skimmed the inky horizon, seeking the moon and a slight sense of sadness touched her heart as she remembered that it was no longer there. Dusk had become that much more obscure without the satellite's glow to temper the darkness. There were few electric light sources on this side of the mansion, the labs and work rooms being on the opposite end of the compound to ensure that the industrial bustle didn't reach the Briefs' living quarters and the lights of the Western Capitol were nothing but a faint glimmer along the curve of the Earth. The awakening stars were still low in the sky and without the GT-pod's usual red illumination rising from the yard it took longer than usual for her eyes to become accustomed to the near pitch blackness covering the estate.

A fragrant evening breeze sailed trough her semi-wet tresses and she inhaled deeply, feeling her heart swell with elation at being alive. She knew the Dragonballs could've brought her back if Vegeta hadn't made it in time, but like any mortal creature, the instinctive need to preserve her own existence was terribly disconcerted at the recollection of her brush with death ~ even if it would've been temporary. As she waited for her pupils to adjust, Bulma allowed her mind to sort through the day's events, pausing to consider the Saiyan's uncharacteristic behaviour.

He'd been so… dared she even think it... sweet to her; in his own stringent, hard-handed way of course, but there was no better word to describe his conduct. Even his chastisement had held no real cruelty; only brutal honesty.

And he'd called her strong.

It was silly really, how much his terse encouragement had meant to her, but it had. It was as though the mere fact that the words were spoken from his lips had made them true somehow. Coming from him, there was no better compliment, and Kami knew, he wouldn't have said it if he didn't believe it himself. She was still embarrassed about her outburst, but she did feel better than she had in weeks. Having someone to talk to about her heartache had done her a lot of good; even if it was Vegeta and the whole conversation was made up of about five coherent sentences.

She really had to make a point of getting more girlfriends. Krillin and Goku were great and all, but they were useless when it came to things like romance and mending broken hearts. And she didn't want to call her parents either. They'd seen the tabloids of course ~ hell, NASA was probably broadcasting the news of her wrecked relationship into outer space by now! Her mother had called the very day after the fact and offered to fly home immediately to provide moral support, but Bulma declined, not yet up to facing the blonde's inevitable attempts at either getting her back together with Yamcha or setting her up with a string of her socialite friends' unmarriageable mamma's boys. Her dad, on the other hand, usually refrained from interfering in her private affairs, but she could tell that his opinion of Yamcha had diminished severely after their previous parting and Kasumi's abrupt transfer to the Melbourne office left no doubt that Dr. Briefs knew about Yamcha's tryst with her. Plus he was a scientist, a man of facts, and despite having the best intentions, he had a hard time making heads or tails of anything that couldn't be quantified in numbers or recorded on a chart. He'd sent her an email ~ accompanied by a lab report and a list of intricate chemistry equations that the new science division was struggling with ~ offering some clichéd sympathies, telling her that she was better off and that was the end of it as far as he was concerned…

The darkness was beginning to take shape and lost to her idle pondering, Bulma's gaze crept absently across the gardens, taking in the scenery as best she could. The trees her father had planted when she was little, green and picturesque in the sunlight, took on an eerie vibe in the night time scene and she turned her attention toward the lawn below her room instead. Her eyes continued to wander, finding the new spacepod and automatically scaled its smooth lines, as yet unmarred by Vegeta's abuse. Her gaze reached the top and she was bluntly wrenched from her reverie at the sight of a darker shadow jutting from the ship's sleek curve. She blinked, squinted and then her mouth fell open as she discerned the unmistakable silhouette perched on the GT's roof.

"He's back?!" She exclaimed mentally, scowling ever deeper in confusion. How long had he been sitting there? And why hadn't he confronted her about the simulator? Maybe he hadn't tried it out yet. But knowing him, that would be the first thing he'd do. What the hell was up with him?

Bulma spun around, forgetting her earlier apprehension at facing her temperamental boarder, and marched through her room, heading downstairs and outside via the kitchen to confront the prince.

"I should just go tell him about the low Gs and get it over with. Then hopefully I can get some sleep." She rationalised while making her way across the dark lawn, but her true reason for wanting to be within speaking distance of her housemate was not quite as sensible. The feel of her pressed against his hot hard chest, one steely arm encircling her in a hold both gentle and unyielding had been permanently branded into her brain and she'd been dwelling on it all day. Perhaps the fresh shock from her trauma had left her overly vulnerable or maybe the festering emotions of the last couple of weeks were to blame, but in all honesty she'd never felt safer in her entire life. Not even Goku had ever inspired such a sense of security in her as she'd felt while locked in Vegeta's embrace and the sight of him sitting but a few hundred metres from her balcony had stricken her with an overwhelming need to be near him. She knew she didn't stand to gain anything by seeking him out, except maybe his wrath for disturbing him, but against better judgement she couldn't wait until morning to bask in his formidable, yet oddly comforting presence.

She kept expecting to be yelled at as she neared the pod, but the sounds of insects and the rustling of foliage in the warm evening wind were all that broached the quiet. Her features held a resolute expression as she climbed up the maintenance steps welded to the side of craft and as she scaled the crest, she saw Vegeta sitting with his back to her, oblivious to her presence, or more likely just uncaring. Nothing got by him after all.

"Mind if I join you?" Bulma asked as she found her footing, his refusal to acknowledge her urging her to voice her presence and not knowing what else to say. The way he was ignoring her made it quite plain that he did mind, but she wouldn't let herself be phased.

"Yes," came the snide confirmation. Bulma merely disregarded it and walked over to where Vegeta sat with one leg drawn up against his chest and the other dangling off the sloping contour of the hull. From this distance, she could make out the blue fabric of his training clothes clinging to his lean body, his skin apparently free of any blood or dirt vestigial from his hunt. He must've returned while she was in the shower and cleaned himself off without her notice before coming out here.

"Not training?" She inquired casually when she reached his side. He spared her a sideways glimpse, frowning as she sat down next to him, but didn't instigate any further arguments.

"What's the point? The damned thing only goes up to a hundred."

"Yeah, about that, it's one of Dad's original prototypes. I didn't have time to upgrade it today with having to take care of the damage done to the house, presumably when you rushed to my rescue…" She quipped, continuing quickly before he could take offence "… but before you freak out, I'm taking the rest of the week off to get your training stuff back up and running so don't bitch. I've got an idea for a new simulator that can go up to a 1000 Gs and with some luck I should have that done before the end of next week. Then I won't have to disassemble the entire mainframe every ten seconds when you reach a new level. I can't have you killing yourself if you get too enthusiastic though, so every hundred Gs will be password protected and don't even think about asking me for the codes, `cause you're not getting them."

Black flames of outrage lighted his eyes, but she held his gaze evenly, making it clear that there was no room for negotiation.

"… What you will be getting though is the first prototype of the new drones to test out. It should be ready tomorrow afternoon at the latest and depending on how it fares I'll have a couple more done by the weekend. I'm sorry they took so long to get done, but… I've been… a little preoccupied lately, as you know…"

Bulma crossed her legs and averted her eyes to skim the scenery, suddenly embarrassed and unable to face him.

"Why are you still here?" He asked after a few minutes' silence, his tone harsh as though she was trespassing and he was delivering a final warning before eviction. Bulma cocked her head to regard him through narrowed eyes, annoyed and a little hurt at his attitude. After everything she'd been through, couldn't he just cut her a little slack? Besides, she'd busted her ass to get the damn pod to where it was and she would damn well stay on it if she felt like it! Then she remembered why she had to replace it to begin with and her temper cooled instantaneously. She let her gaze drop into her lap, self-consciously chewing her lower lip as she stared at her fidgeting digits. She didn't have an answer for him. Not a good one anyway, but she liked his close proximity and she didn't want to give it up just yet.

"Well, Vegeta… I just…*sigh*… I just wanna sit with you for a while, alright?"

The Saiyan sniffed at her explanation, but he didn't throw her off the roof either and that was a positive sign as far as Bulma was concerned. They sat in silence for what felt like a long time, following the stars' trek across the night sky, until ~ surprisingly enough ~ Vegeta's gravelled cadence rumbled through the quiet.

"I take it then that you're finally done with that weakling."

Bulma was slow to face him as she considered his question. Why in the world would he care about her relationship ~ or lack thereof ~ with Yamcha? He had been quite opinionated on the subject earlier in the day, but that was after she'd all but wrestled it out of him. Usually, he acted as if such things were beneath him and she could hardly believe he'd brought it up on his own.

"Why do you care?" She countered, trying to gauge his expression, but he was still staring out into space, his visage impassive as if carved from stone.

"I don't."

"Then why ask?"

"Your persistent bawling was keeping me awake at night. I think I'm entitled to know if I'm gonna be able to sleep again any time soon." Bulma's eyes widened at his comment. The last thing she'd wanted was for him to know how pathetic she was being. She'd barely heard herself she'd cried so softly, but clearly there was no such thing as privacy when you slept next door to an alien super monkey. She felt her face heat up and was glad that the Saiyan's regard was trained elsewhere, knowing that the darkness wouldn't veil her chagrin if his sight was anywhere near as sharp as his hearing.

"Well you can rest easy…" She replied with a rueful grimace "… I don't have anymore tears to cry for him. I am stronger than that. I guess I just needed someone to remind me."

Vegeta only nodded stiffly in response, his eyes still riveted to the starry sky as though trying to shred the cloak of night and look upon what lay beneath.

"How long were you with him?" He asked a few minutes later, just when she was sure he'd said all he was going to. He still wasn't looking at her and his voice was rough as ever, but with the same confusingly gentle undertone he'd used that morning. She looked askance at him, perplexed as to why he'd ask such a question.

"Why?" She countered with more apprehension than intended. He was probably the only person on the planet she couldn't read like an open book and he was being particularly enigmatic this night, setting her nerves on edge.

"Just answer the question."

"Six years, give or take a few months. Happy now?" She stated a little defensively, wondering if he was planning on going anywhere with this.

His jaw tightened as if her answer had offended him somehow.

"You wasted much on him." He observed, his eyes meeting hers briefly, before returning to the stars. Bulma could only blink in response. What was she supposed to say to that? And again, from whence this sudden interest in her personal life? Did he really care, or was he just playing some warped mind game with her to pass the time?

"What's your case Vegeta?" She pondered, following his line of vision in an attempt to discern what held him so transfixed, but all she saw was the usual night sky that he had looked upon at the end of every day for nearly two years. Nothing strange. Nothing out of the ordinary. And nothing that remotely served to explain his peculiar behaviour. Finally ~ like so many times before ~ she gave up on trying to figure him out and concentrated on his words instead.

"He's right. I did waste a lot on Yamcha, and for what? Just to keep from being alone? Well, fat lot of good it did in the end. " She thought bitterly and a cynical laugh escaped her lips at the irony of it all. At this Vegeta met her eyes, a curious look on his darkened features. Bulma noticed his confusion at her laughter and smiled sadly.

"I was just thinking about what you said and you're right. I was just so scared of being without him; of being alone. It's just, he's always been there, you know?" She spoke softly, peering into her lap while struggling to swallow the hard lump growing in her throat.

"… But I'll be fine. After all, no one ever really died of loneliness." She added as an afterthought, only half aware that she'd spoken aloud. She felt his eyes boring into her and looked up questioningly, finding herself mesmerised by the deep, black pools staring back at her.

"No, you'll just wish you were dead." He rasped after a moment and peered once more into oblivion, his countenance indecipherable.

Bulma was stunned at his plain statement. No scathing remarks; no stinging belittling of her character; not even a comment about humans and their pathetic sentimentality. She could do nothing but gape at the Saiyan in befuddlement, wondering for the umpteenth time what had gotten into him.

Once more she traced his gaze, seeing nothing but darkness littered with pinpricks of white, and then an epiphany hit her like a lightening strike and she suddenly understood why he was peering so intensely into the night sky. He wasn't merely staring into space as she had thought. No, his eyes were purposely wandering the boundaries of the Cosmos in search of a planet that was nowhere to be found.

The realisation made her feel ashamed about complaining to him about her loss, which seemed so trivial when measured against his. She still had her family and all her friends to turn to for comfort. It didn't really matter that she no longer had a boyfriend, because she still had plenty of people she could count on. Vegeta had lost everything and there was hardly anyone left who cared about him. He was truly alone.

She wished then that there was something she could say to him; some ancient words of wisdom that would ease his anguish, but of course there were none. No amount of talking could ever erase the horrors he'd endured, the insurmountable losses he'd borne, the pain he must carry with him every single day. True, he'd dealt his share of misery, but he did what he had to, to survive. Had their places been reversed ~ loathe as she was to admit it ~ Bulma couldn't say with certainty that she would have acted any differently, any better, than he had under circumstances that made her worst nightmares seem downright pleasant in comparison.

The awful realisation made her heart contract with grief for him, bringing tears to her eyes. She turned her face away, not wanting him to see her crying. She knew that his pride would never allow him to accept sympathy from anyone and that her tears ~ if he knew who they were for ~ would only insult him. She dried her eyes with the back of her hand and took a deep, steadying breath before facing him again, trying to think of something more cheery to discuss.

"So what was it like growing up in a palace?" She asked the first thing that came into her head.

"I wouldn't know. I was two years old when I went to work for Frieza and I didn't spend a lot of time at home after that."

"You were two?! And your parents allowed it?! You were just a baby for Kami's sake!" Bulma cried in shocked abhorrence, unable to wrap her mind around the utterly alien notion of sending small children into combat.

"I'm Saiyan, Woman. Don't confuse me with the infants of your feeble kind. I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself at that age." He snapped pridefully, not wanting to explain that his father had in fact been so desperate to retrieve him that the king had ended up sacrificing his entire race in a frantic gambit to save a single boy-child. He could hardly bare the knowledge, let alone speak it aloud. It was for his sake that the Saiyans were dead, and yet a third class imbecile, deemed inferior at birth and discarded into the recesses of space had to satisfy the blood debt owed to the Saiyan legions because their prince, the one they'd all died to save, was too weak to step up. Perhaps it was fortunate that his people were gone and unable to see just what had become of him. Had they lived he'd have been a legend alright; a legendary disgrace…

"Oh right, for a minute there I forgot that Saiyans are just sooo superior to humans." Bulma said sarcastically, feigning ignorance to the sudden tensing in his demeanour, as she crossed her arms defiantly under her breasts. The playful challenge in her voice was not lost on Vegeta, distracting him from his damning thoughts, and he felt a smile pull at the corner of his mouth, finding himself unable to resist the bait.

"Yes we are. But don't worry, I'll make sure to remind you every time you forget. After all, I can't expect too much of your primitive little human brain, now can I?" He said smugly, grinning down at her like a muscle-bound Cheshire cat, watching the sequence of emotions playing on her face. First, her finely sculpted blue eyebrows began to twitch reflexively, then her mouth dropped open and she began to sputter in indignant shock. Insulting her ever so renowned genius intellect had always been a sure way to set her off and he had to stop himself from crowing in triumph as she shrieked in outrage, too infuriated to retaliate with a witty comeback of her own. Instead she opted to punch him as hard as she could on the shoulder, hurting only herself as her delicate fist impacted against his rock hard muscle.

"Ow." She wined petulantly, and yanked her hand back to stroke her sore knuckles, glaring at Vegeta with enough venom to take down an elephant.

"Thanks for proving my point." He said silkily, clearly amused as his wolfish grin widened ~ if it were possible ~ with even more arrogance than before.

"Oh, I hate you!" She spat through clenched teeth, cradling her fist in her lap.

"Ditto." He shot back, with a chuckle; not his customary contemptuous snigger though, but a genuine expression of mirth. It was indeed a strange sound to hear coming from him, but after Bulma overcame her initial shock, she couldn't restrain a giggle of her own. The relaxed ambiance lingered and they easily resumed their old habit of chatting idly about nothing in particular, contentedly admiring the beauty of the resting world.

Time wore on and the breeze became chilly as the day's heat dissipated, trailing its icy fingers up and down Bulma's spine, making her shiver. Her first instinct was to move closer to Vegeta, who seemed completely unaffected by the cold, but she thought better of it and decided to head indoors instead.

"Well, Your Highness, it looks like I'm gonna have to abandon you for now. I'm getting frostbite up here." She said as she rose and stretched her stiff limbs before turning toward the maintenance ladder. She didn't get very far though. She'd barely taken a step when she found herself being swept off her feet and coming to rest against the solid wall of Vegeta's broad chest, supported securely upon thickly muscled arms.

"What the hell are you doing?!" She shouted with a start, automatically throwing her arms around the prince's neck to keep from falling.

"I thought you wanted to go down." Vegeta stated with a shrug and slowly began to drift into the air. Bulma's eyes widened and she tightened her death grip around his neck, enough to throttle him if he were anyone else.

"Vegeta!" She squealed with her face buried in the crook of his neck, her panic evident as she clung to him for dear life. Vegeta rolled his eyes in exasperation, irritated with her mistrust as he smoothly descended to the lawn, although his cargo didn't seem to take note. When they touched down, he effortlessly shifted her position to support her with one arm and used the other to loosen her hold around his neck. At this her head snapped up from his shoulder to look pleadingly into his eyes, begging him wordlessly not to drop her.

"Will you relax! We're down." He snarled in annoyance, but lowered her carefully none the less.

"Oh." Bulma replied, blushing furiously in humiliation when she felt the reassuring presence of terra firma beneath her feet. With the threat of a plummeting death averted, her embarrassment was quick to morph into rage and she wasted no time venting her anger upon the presumptuous prince.

"Vegeta, you bastard! What the fuck did you do that for?! You scared the living daylights out of me!" She screamed, her face now flushed with fury and a thunderstorm of blue flashes erupting in her eyes.

"Looks like the bitch is back." Vegeta mused as he studied her with arms crossed over his chest and his head slanted to one side, smirking lopsidedly in satisfaction. That was how he liked her: spirited and fiery, like an exotic cat from the wild; not the subdued, meek little mouse she'd been for the past couple of weeks. He hadn't really planned on sparking her temper, but now that he had, he figured he might as well enjoy it.

"I sure as hell wasn't about to let you climb down on your own wench. Your pathetic energy level and laughable coordination don't mix well with gravity ~ as you so effectively proved this morning ~ and your inferior human senses are probably useless in the dark. Unfortunately I need your skull in one piece until you've undone the damage you wreaked on my training schedule, but after that you can take a nose dive off that glass tower you claim to work in for all I care." He scoffed with exaggerated condescension, the picture of arrogance incarnate as he stared imperiously down his nose at her.

Vegeta watched the woman with interest, loving how her alabaster skin glowed with ire; the way her eyes snapped viperously as she glared at him. Her full lips peeled back in ferocious snarl that sent his pulse thrumming and then the moment he'd waited for arrived as her sapphire irises darkened to the most exquisite shade of cobalt. In all his years of travel he'd never seen a more divine shade of blue.

"Aagh!! Vegeta you are such a..." Bulma bellowed right up to the Saiyan's face, hurting his ears with her shrill pitch, but she stopped mid-sentence, taking a couple of calming breaths as she caught wind of his game. She haughtily shoved her nose in the air before turning her back on him.

"You, Vegeta, are a complete asshole and I will not waste another moment of my precious time with you. Good night." She snipped cheekily over her shoulder, trying her damnedest to appear detached, but Vegeta didn't miss the knowing grin that flickered across her lips as she looked away and sauntered loftily towards the mansion.

"Good to have you back, Woman." He conceded only to himself as he stared after her, her swaying derrière presenting an irresistible focal point for his gaze, until she disappeared around a bend. When he was alone, Vegeta glanced up at the glittering velvet of the night sky one last time before heading into the pod to rehearse a few katas before retiring. Another day had come and gone without him achieving his goal, but for once he wasn't tormented by the cold blade of failure twisting in his chest. The feeling he did have was new and strange, but if he was forced to guess at its name, he'd call it something unnervingly close… to happiness.

_______________________________________________________________ _______

* `Bring me to life' by Evanescence

Next Chapter: Lemonade anyone?

So there you have it guys. Just for the record, I know 18 plus Gs sounds like a lot, but my science major buddies tell me that the human body has been known to withstand up to 22 Gs without going splat, so yeah, there is method in the madness after all. I really hope the ending wasn't too sappy, but I figured everyone could do with a break from the ongoing angst +_+

As always, feedback would be very much appreciated. Like someone said, the worst thing you can do to a writer is to ignore them so if you've read this far, you might as well leave a comment ~ even if you absolutely hated it. Constructive criticism is always welcome and flames are good for a laugh, so don't hold back ^_~