Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Waiting (revised) ❯ Part 3 ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of the characters seen in the show, manga, movies, etc. But in the twisted world of my mind…well, that's a different story.

Part 3

Through the thick, green murk of the regen tank, Vegeta could hear the muffled bleeps signaling the initiation of the drain out process. His body felt much better than it had a few hours ago, although that damn stinging sensation on his skin hadn't disappeared. He felt a resounding ripple through the liquid as the level of the regenerative solution began to slowly drop until, as it finally drained away from his face, he was able to rip the oxygen mask off and take a deep breath through his own lungs. He carefully flexed his newly healed limbs. Maybe the regen tanks were worth the couple hours it took to heal in them. If he had let himself heal naturally, it would have taken him weeks to regain his strength.

A soft hiss caught his attention as a light shower of water and chemicals misted over him, and he lazily scrubbed his skin to rid himself of the lingering residue from the regeneration liquids. Vegeta exhaled slowly, trying to calm his nerves from the lasting effects of the dream he'd had in his curative rest. His dreams, as they almost always were as of late, had been haunted by images of Bulma; vivid pictures of the past and the time he spent with her. The way her smile lit up as she approached him in the garden with open arms. The way her blue eyes darkened with desire as he touched her. The way her face crumpled in pain as she stared up at him with pleading eyes. Vegeta shook his head, as if he could remove the last disquieting images with a physical motion. There was no way to change the past, he thought regretfully, but he could do his best to put it to rights. Bulma deserved that much from him.

Tonight would be the beginning of their new lives together, the lives they had both wanted back in their days on Kuraji. It had been a hard struggle; Bulma had harbored her anger for him her entire stay on Vegeta-sei. While he was training for his battle with Frieza, he reasoned, it couldn't be helped. His main goal had been to become stronger, to protect the future he and Bulma would have together. But now that he had done that, he would finally have to face that anger, and dissolve it. How, he wasn't sure, but he had slowly been making chinks in the wall she had erected against him, testing her resolve and lowering her defenses with the one weapon he still had left in his arsenal: the passion between them. It was the one thing, despite the angry words and the cool countenance, that she could no sooner resist than she could refuse air to her lungs.

He knew she loved him. She had loved him back on Kuraji, although they had never spoken the words. Even now, as she spit fire and insults at him, the emotion in her eyes was not hate but hurt. And he had hurt her, unknowingly as well as intentionally.

It was a painful memory, the night he returned for her on Kuraji. He'd had no idea what to expect when he touched down in the garden, after sensing her ki signature, five years since his last visit to the desert planet. Bulma had never returned to the garden after the night he'd told her he was leaving, and even though he received no word from her, he had still continued to wait in the garden until the night before his departure. His mind had reeled with possible reasons for her absence, but none of them made any sense. Their last night together was ingrained for all time in his memory, the wild, feverish timbre of their lovemaking fueling his resolve to come back to her as soon as he possibly could.

It had taken him five years to finally leave Frieza's service, after his father sent him a message through a well-hidden spy in Frieza's army, that Vegeta-sei's days were numbered. Frieza had come ever closer to his goal of forcing most of the known galaxy under his thumb, and that meant he would soon no longer need the help of the Saiya-jin, or their lives. After nine years of serving the cruel, sadistic bastard, his father had informed him that he was now allowed to just simply walk away and return to Vegeta-sei, since Frieza would most likely start his extermination of the Saiya-jin race with those in his army. Vegeta, numb to any real emotion he felt returning to his home planet, had grudgingly complied, prepared to avoid his father and instead focus on the defense of Vegeta-sei. He was moderately surprised at the level of preparation his father had gone through to try and fend off an attack from Frieza. It wouldn't be enough of course, but Vegeta had a trump card.

During the past five years, Vegeta had been secretly training, through a new technique he had picked up on one of the planets he had been ordered to purge. The old man he had encountered on the near waste-laid planet had caught him off guard with a series of ki attacks Vegeta could only begin to describe as exceptional. Vegeta eventually overpowered him, the man's frail body betraying him as he tired from Vegeta's unflagging endurance. But Vegeta, slightly in awe of the man's skill, gave the old man an option of life if he would but teach him his technique. The elderly man was understandably reluctant, seeing as he was making a deal with one of the beings who had destroyed his planet, but he grudgingly agreed to teach him.

Vegeta successfully smuggled the man off-planet and onto a planet near Frieza's headquarters. Over the years he had covertly visited the old man during the brief reprieves between missions and learned the secret of the technique. Unfortunately, one of Frieza's men discovered his secret outings and informed Frieza. Although the tyrannical bastard never learned the reason for his visits, Frieza had the man killed and beat Vegeta into unconsciousness for his insubordination. But all the while, Vegeta suppressed a secret smile, coveting the knowledge that he would one day pay Frieza back in kind for all of the injustices wrought against him.

So Vegeta returned to Kuraji that breezy twilight evening to fulfill the promise he had made to Bulma five years before. With a few more months of training, his strength would be equal to that of Frieza's and after the tyrant's defeat, he and Bulma could begin their lives anew. He had briefly told his father what he planned to do, and had been furious when the old man stated his disapproval. Vegeta hadn't said another word to him after that but instead walked away, internally boiling at the fact that his father still sought to control his life. The king had seen the great increase in his son's strength, knew the possibility of his successful victory against Frieza, but still continued to lecture him on the responsibilities of a future king. He would show his father. After he defeated Frieza, Bulma would become his mate and future queen and anyone who disputed that would suffer his wrath. The thought of her had been the only thing that had gotten him through the last few agonizing years. Now she would belong to him, and only him.

She was sitting on the stone bench, staring up at the slowly darkening sky, clothed in some white silken material that hugged her soft curves like a second skin. Her hair hung loosely about her shoulders and down her back, just as soft looking and silky as he remembered. He moved towards her in the overhanging shadows of the bordering trees, distinctly aware that he had approached her in much the same way the first time he'd seen her. As if following a script from the past, Bulma suddenly turned towards him and gasped. Her voice was soft, though this time it held a note of fear.

"What are you doing here?" Vegeta frowned, at first wondering why his presence would instill fear in her, and then wondering why she would ask such a question.

"I am here to fulfill my promise, woman. I am here to take you away from all this. I have broken away from Frieza and now all that's left is to get stronger and defeat him." He moved closer to her, intending to caress the soft line of her jaw, and watched in frustration as she edged herself away from him.

"I…I can't come with you." Her voice was trembling and she looked positively terrified. What was wrong with her?

"What do you mean? I am more than able to defend myself against that weakling desert king. If you wish it, I will not kill him if he tries to come after us. But we must leave now."

He took hold of her arm but she frantically wrenched it away. "No! Don't touch me! I'm not going anywhere with you. You're a murderer and a liar, and I won't spend my life with the man who killed my people!" She turned and began to run towards the exit, but he quickly stepped into her path.

"What are you talking about, Bulma?" He was trying to keep his voice calm, but her fear was affecting him. He had expected her to throw her arms around him when he arrived, not run away from him, shouting accusations. He was clueless as to what she was talking about.

"You destroyed Chikyuu!" she screamed at him. "You and you're purging squad decimated Chikyuu like it was nothing. And you knew the whole time and didn't tell me. You let me care for you, used my body, and all the while you knew what you had done." Her accusing outburst stunned him. Chikyuu? Had he purged Chikyuu and simply not remembered it? As Vegeta pondered that question, he realized that it was possible. By now, he had purged nearly a hundred worlds in Frieza's name. He remembered particular faces, usually twisted in grief and agony; but the names of the planets themselves had become lost in the swirling numbness that habitually accompanied his purges. He could have very well destroyed Bulma's home world and forgotten it.

"Bulma…" he began, unable to find the right words to console her. How could he tell her that he was sorry for killing her family and destroying her world? That he didn't remember it? A thought suddenly sprang into his mind. How could she know that he he'd been part of the squad that purged Chikyuu? There were so many squads; she could be mistaken.

"Whom did you hear this from?"

"Yamcha," she said spitefully. "Yamcha told me everything."

"And what is `everything'?" he asked tersely, his temper rising. He was beginning to understand what had happened. Somehow, Yamcha must have found out about them, and was taking his revenge by telling Bulma lies.

"That you enjoyed purging. That you went to Frieza willingly. He told me you purged Chikyuu, and Frieza confirmed it." Vegeta clenched his fists in frustration. What could he say to her? Yamcha had obviously planted the seeds of anger and resentment towards him in Bulma, but if he had really spoken to Frieza, then it would be hard to dispute what was fact of fiction. What he didn't remember could be used against him.

"Bulma, I swear to you, I had no idea-"

"Just stop it!" she yelled at him. Her eyes were so full of hurt and pain. "I don't want to hear it. Just…go. I won't tell Yamcha you were here if you just leave now and never come back." She turned away then, unsuccessfully trying to hide her tears from him.

Vegeta closed his eyes against the pain of her rejection. He had come all this way for her. She had been his beacon in the darkness, his reason for surviving all those years with Frieza. And now, because of a few half-truths, she was shunning him and telling him she never wanted to see him again. No, he shouted to himself. I will not accept defeat! He needed time to explain to her, to show her that he cared for her more than anything else in his life. He would not let her dismiss him so quickly. But they couldn't discuss this here.

His movements were quick and precise as he struck the back of her neck, deftly moving around her and catching her limp body before it fell to the ground. He pulled his warm, unconscious bundle closer to him as he lifted into the air and rocketed away from the desert palace towards his ship, hidden a few miles away. Intuitively, he knew the trip back to Vegeta-sei would be long and difficult, but he was prepared to do whatever it took to assuage her anger towards him. He would not let her go without a fight.

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Bulma finally sat down, tired of pacing the room. She needed time to think, time to sort things out. Yamcha's words were eating a hole through her mind. Where was Vegeta? She was torn between the need to see him and the need to be alone to ponder her new predicament. He should have been here by now, unless something happened…

No, she amended to herself. He was more than capable of defeating Frieza. He would return to her. She knew that. Besides, he still had yet to get her to submit to him, and Vegeta was never one to dismiss a challenge. Yes, Vegeta said he would come back for his answer. But what was she going to say to him when he finally arrived?

Within the last twenty minutes, everything had changed. Yamcha had lied to her, and Vegeta hadn't destroyed Chikyuu. But, the little voice in the back of her mind worried at her, he's still a killer. Did it really matter that he hadn't destroyed Chikyuu when he had murdered countless others? Bulma tugged at her hair fretfully as she reached the window and gazed out unseeingly. It shouldn't matter, she thought to herself, she knew it shouldn't matter. But that had been the one thing she had clung to like a life preserver, the one reality she threw back in his face every time he tried reason with her, and now to find out that her accusations were based on untruths…how could she face him now?

It was simple, her mind reasoned. She just wouldn't tell him what she had discovered. He would never know that that she knew he hadn't been the one to purge Chikyuu and she would hope and pray that he would eventually grow weary of trying to gain her submission. Then…then what? She couldn't return to Chikyuu or Kuraji. Both had suffered Frieza's wrath and been destroyed with a snap the tyrant's ashen fingers. The only person she had left was a man whom she'd spurned from moment she'd arrived on Vegeta-sei.

She was sure Vegeta loved her. His patience with her had been too scrupulous and god-like for it not to be so. He was so sure of himself, so intent on finding a way past the barrier she had put up against. It seemed as though their positions had been switched since Kuraji. Now he was the one trying to read her emotions and test her weaknesses for ways to get her to open up to him. She had been very good at keeping the weaker emotions bottled up. Not since the night he brought to his home planet, had he ever seen her shed a single tear. She closed herself off, much like a dam stanches a river, and the only time she let herself lose control of her tears was when she was away from Vegeta's presence.

The one emotion she did allow herself to feel was anger, and she'd had a ready supply of that. But in all the time she'd spent steeling herself against him, Vegeta always kept a cool head. She'd found that the insults she hurled at him did not have the desired effect on him; in fact, the passion in his eyes increased exponentially when she was screaming at him in anger. It seemed that whenever they were around each other, the casual banter they regularly exchanged almost always escalated into a battle of witty insults and barbs. He deliberately baited her and her voice would raise to shrill octaves in her agitated state until she was on the verge of explosion. Then she would stare rebelliously into those black, soul-stealing eyes and… kiss him. She didn't know how to stop herself. In the heat of the moment, his proximity was nerve-wracking, and all she could seem to think about were his strong hands and hard mouth and dark, challenging eyes that beckoned to her. And he was never the one to initiate it. No, he would stand there calmly as she worked herself up into a pitch, expectantly waiting for her to move closer to him. And when she gave in to the wanton urges her mind and body imposed on her, he would wrap his arms around her and carry her to his bed. And then they would make love.

It was almost as good as it had been on Kuraji. Their lovemaking was still just as heated and intense, and Vegeta's tenderness was almost enough to make her weep. It was a game they played regularly, a game Bulma knew even before it began, that she would lose. And in this way she had been fooling herself, blaming her passions on Vegeta's dark allure and subtle manipulations, assuring herself that it wasn't her fault that her body ignited with lust and her mind clouded over with desire every time he was near. He was the one turning her into this creature who lived to feel, touch, and taste, and he was stealing her rational mind. It wasn't her doing.

He was tireless in his efforts to make her admit to him that she cared for him. There had only been one occasion when he had lost that diligent patience of his, and the events of that night would be forever burned in her memory, the remembrance of that near murderous look on his face enough to wake her in the middle of the night.

She had woken up on Vegeta's ship after her abduction in a daze, unable to remember what had occurred in the last few hours. Vegeta had been laying next to her, his arms wrapped around her in a protective embrace, and for a moment she relaxed against him, inhaling the light, strong scent of him. But then her memory came flooding back to her all at once, and she was instantly pushing him away and struggling to pull herself from the narrow bed that he'd imprisoned her on. His grip tightened momentarily as he woke, but he released her and allowed her to back away from him.

"Where are we?" she asked, unable to keep the edge of panic from her voice as her eyes darted around at their surrounding.

"On my ship," he replied dispassionately.

On his ship? The last thing Bulma remembered was turning away from him and asking him to leave. How had they ended up on his ship? "Where are you taking me?"

"To Vegeta-sei. It would have done no good to stay on Kuraji."

"Take me back, Vegeta. Now." She watched in irritation and growing apprehension as his face hardened at her command.

"No. We will discuss this matter further. I will not allow you to believe something a jealous lover told you. Am I right in assuming Yamcha found out about us?"

She didn't answer him, but instead moved swiftly over to the ship's control panel. She searched frantically for piloting apparatus, but she soon realized that all the labeling was in a language she had never seen before. But that didn't stop her from pushing buttons. She was so desperate that she would do anything she could to get away from him. At the push of a green button, the ship lurched precariously to one side and she stumbled into Vegeta's grasp.

"Woman, are you crazy?!" He quickly reached over her and pressed a few buttons to fix the damage she had wrought.

"Vegeta, let me go. Take me back right now." When he didn't respond, she screamed at him. "I'll crash this ship with both of us in it if you don't." His face was as hard and immovable as stone. She was at her wit's end. "I hate you, Vegeta!" She decided to add more poison to the barb. "I care for Yamcha, not you, so let me go. I won't ever let you touch me again. You disgust me too much. You're a monster and I'll never be yours. Never! You and Frieza deserve to burn in Hell for what you did!"

She didn't notice the darkening of his expression during her tirade, or the hardness that replaced the gentleness in his gaze until it was too late. Before she could struggle out of his tightening grip, he hefted her over his shoulder and strode out of the room as she kicked wildly at him. Two doorways later, he reached a small, closet-sized room where he promptly dropped her on the floor. She didn't even have the chance to yell at him before the door slid shut and she heard the resounding click of the lock being put in place. She couldn't believe he had locked her in a closet. A closet!

Bulma heard the squeak of the pilot's chair and instinctively knew that he would be able to hear her if she screamed. She took a deep breath-readying her lungs for the diatribe she was about to perform-and screamed. She screamed out her rage at her imprisonment, at her family's death, at her world's destruction, at Vegeta's betrayal. She screamed out everything she had in her at him, called him every obscenity she had ever heard in three different languages and when she had finally exhausted herself, she silently cried herself to sleep. She didn't even wake when Vegeta finally came for her and carried her out of the ship.

He left her in an empty chamber, huddled beneath thick, warm blankets in the center of the bed. When she awoke, very near the middle of the night, her mind was filled with one desperate thought: she had to escape. She found the door unlocked; obviously Vegeta thought that she wouldn't be able to go anywhere he couldn't find her and probably didn't think she had the gall to try and leave the planet. She made her way down the long, spacious hallways, darting behind a protruding section of wall or a wide, open doorframe when an occasional guard passed her way. She almost lost her nerve after she spotted the first guard. The fearsome-faced man had to be at least seven feet tall. Why wasn't Vegeta that size? She should be glad for it though; otherwise he would have appeared even more terrifying in his anger, if that were possible. She didn't even want to think of what he would do if he caught her.

By chance, she stumbled upon the docking bay. It was larger than any single room she had ever set eyes on, and packed full of sleek, deadly-looking ships that Bulma quickly supposed must be battle cruisers. There were guards everywhere, and from her hiding place she searched frantically for the tiny ship Vegeta had taken her in. She knew she would have a little trouble flying it because all of the controls were most likely in Saiyago, but all aircrafts were similarly made, and Yamcha's scientists had taught her well. It would probably only take her a few minutes scrutiny to figure out what controls did what. As for how she planned to leave the docking bay…well, she could only solve one problem at a time, and she would have to deal with it as she came to it.

She couldn't suppress her startled cry when a heavy hand seized her shoulder and whipped her around. The dark scowl on the face of her discoverer was almost enough to make her cry out again. Without a word, Vegeta grabbed her by the arm and began to drag her out of the docking bay, drawing the attention of stunned guards along the way, all probably wondering how she'd escaped their notice.

As he yanked her along, Bulma didn't even try to discern how he'd found her so quickly. No, she was too angry for that, and the indignant fury boiling within her had been enough to rid her mind of everything except that seething anger. Vegeta pulled her into a completely different chamber than the one she'd woken up in, and by the lavish blue and gold furnishings, she decided that it must be his room. He all but flung her into the room and Bulma crossed her arms in a show of defiance as she tried to scorch him with her eyes.

"You will not leave again," he said softly but his tone menacing. "Not until we've discussed this and you see reason."

"I'll take every opportunity I can to escape." She left no room for dispute. She would leave if she could, and she could see by the frustrated furrow of his brows that he believed her.

"To where? Back to Kuraji as Yamcha's whore?

"Well, it's better than staying with a bastard like you," she said as cruelly as she possibly could. Her anger was guarding her against his angry scowl that deepened with her words.

"Stop this, Bulma. I will not have you hate me for something you know nothing about. If you would only listen-"

"It's too late for that, Vegeta," she interrupted. She had heard all she needed to hear of his excuses. "I already hate you. You murdered my family, my people, and now you kidnap me and hold me against my will? You're already proving what a monster you are. You're just like Frieza, Vegeta. A lying, cold-hearted, remorseless-" The breath was knocked out of her as Vegeta forcefully pushed her down on the bed. His murderous look was enough to make her hold her tongue.

"You know nothing of Frieza!" he hissed at her as he pinned her stunned body down beneath him, his black eyes piercing hers angrily. "You know nothing of what I had to endure, the shame I had to bear. You think you know pain? Humiliation? Try being beaten to the point of death everyday for a year, then having to suffer the taunts of Frieza's men while you try to hold your tattered pride together, all because your own father trades you in like a bargaining chip to a monster like Frieza!" His eyes had turned icy. "And you think I am like him." Vegeta gave a sardonic chuckle. "Maybe I am. Maybe after all of the killing, I became the person I hated most. I think you are right, you know. I think I am cold-hearted." His weight shifted slightly so that he was covering her body completely, and Bulma felt a cold thread of panic as his face nuzzled her throat. "I thought my life had changed when I met you," he murmured against the smooth skin drawn taught with fear. "But maybe I was wrong to think that anyone could truly care for me. I am a monster, as you say." His tone changed suddenly as he pulled away from her to stare down into her eyes. The look he gave her chilled her to the bone. "So you say you would rather be a man's whore?" he said whisper-soft. His hand reached between them and brushed the soft curve of her breast with agonizing slowness. "I had been willing to make you my queen." He made a quick movement and Bulma found her wrists ensnared above her head by one of his hands. "But if that is what you want…it can be easily arranged."

His mouth captured hers in a dominating, breath-stealing kiss that, even in her fear and anger, made her ache with need. She struggled with him a moment, but then had to force herself not to give in to the temptation to wrap her arms around his neck and draw him closer. His hands descended on her body, pulling at her clothing, smoothing over exposed skin, caressing her most intimate parts-and then his words finally hit home like bucket of ice water in the face.

Bulma pushed at him desperately, whimpering against his mouth in dismay when she realized that her fierce attempts to budge him were futile. He didn't seem to notice her panic, his hands fairly ripping the material of her dress as if it were made of crepe paper. The anger that she had kept well housed until now was blotted out by trepidation as her clothing fell away. Up until now, she hadn't thought he would go this far. Strangely, she had felt guilty after she`d yelled at him. It was an odd feeling. She should have been hating him for all he'd done, but for some reason, all she could feel was hurt and pain. She didn't hate him and, she thought angrily to herself, she didn't think she ever could. They had shared too much on Kuraji for her to hate him. She knew him too well, for all that he hadn't told her about his past. Bulma understood then that no matter what he'd done, she would always remember the man he had been back when they were together in her garden. Deep down she knew that he couldn't have pretended the gentleness he had showed her, even if he was a callous killer. She had seen the wall he'd erected, but she had been heedless in the warning signs that would have alerted her to the truth. She had made the greatest error of her life: she had fallen in love with a murderer. And now he was about to hurt her worse than he'd ever had before.

She felt him position himself between her thighs, and she sucked in a breath and squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for pain that never came. After a few seconds, she opened her eyes and hesitantly looked up at him, expecting the worst. But his eyes… the dark, fathomless depths that had just moments before radiated anger, were now filled with deep regret. He pulled himself abruptly off of her and stood, showing his profile to her, his head bowed and eyes closed as if he were praying to some nameless god for strength and guidance. Though his voice was soft, it carried to her clear and true.

"I will not take you in anger, Bulma. In fact, I will take you at all if you do not ask it of me." He opened his eyes and met her bewildered gaze. "But I will not let you leave until you can tell me truthfully that you do not love me. And I will not help you return to Yamcha. He is not worthy of your affections." Before she could respond, he left her in the oppressive silence of the room. Bulma pulled the ragged edges of her dress together and only then reached trembling fingers up to the wet trail of tears running down her cheeks. That night she vowed to herself that she would never cry in front of Vegeta again, not if she could help it. She would have to be strong, strong enough to resist him if the situation ever came up again, and strong enough to dispel the lust-hazed cloud that had unexpectedly settled over her mind when he'd kissed her.

After that incident, her days were slightly less taxing, but not by much. She stopped trying to escape, mostly because she realized that she now had the power to leave if she wanted to. Vegeta had also made it very clear that all she had to do was tell him she didn't love him, that she didn't want to be here with him. And to her astonishment and chagrin, she found that she couldn't truthfully say these things to him. She did love him, but she knew she shouldn't. He had purged so many planets, killed so many people. How could she have let this happen?

A few weeks later, she made up her mind to tell him what he'd asked, regardless of her feelings, after her guilt of loving a murderer became to much for her mind to bear. She never got the words out. She had started the conversation by throwing a few casual insults at him while they ate dinner together, as she thought it would be the best approach. But before she knew it, the argument got out of control, and she was soon standing up and screeching at the top of her lungs, countering the antagonistic barbs he responded to her with. It was only a matter of time before they ended up in his bed, his hands and mouth doing things to her that she knew would make her guilt all the more the eminent the following morning.

Of course there were infinitely many worlds that she could have gone to had she been able to refuse Vegeta, but nowhere she felt she could start her life completely anew in. She couldn't go back to Yamcha. Though she knew he would welcome her back with open arms, she didn't think she could go back to his overbearing covetousness of her. After he`d found out about Vegeta, his wariness of the people around her had doubled, until she hadn't been allowed to go anywhere outside the residential wings of the palace. The night Vegeta had come back for her, Bulma had snuck out of Yamcha's chamber via the secret passage-Yamcha hadn't thought to seal it-and went to the garden to be alone. The years that had passed since Vegeta's original departure had been long and difficult for her, and despite Yamcha's accusations, she still dreamed of the what-ifs and possibilities she could have had if she and Vegeta had been able to live in peace and happiness. Even though Yamcha had told her everyday that he loved her, he had never made plans to marry her. She hadn't been bothered by that fact; somewhere, inside her heart, she had wished that he would tire of her and simply send her away. But it hadn't looked hopeful.

Her life on Vegeta-sei had fallen into routine. Their encounters would always begin the same way: after Vegeta's summons, she would arrive at the dining hall, dressed in the revealing finery that he provided for her and dine with him. As they ate, Bulma would start the evening off with some small comment meant to antagonize him, and he would oblige her, arrogantly responding to her insults and fueling her antagonism onward. She argued with him relentlessly over just about anything he brought up. He'd allowed her that privilege; she was permitted to say whatever was on her mind, without punishment. She suspected that he enjoyed their arguments as much as he did the lovemaking afterwards, though their verbal sparring was trivial for the most part; she kept all of her comments regarding the loss of her planet and her abduction repressed during their quarrels, but the anger was still there. Vegeta would continue to goad her until she couldn't stand his nearness any longer and kissed him desperately. Then he would make love to her, passionately and mercilessly until she cried out in defeat and succumbed to the pleasurable waves of ecstasy he always managed to incite within her. It seemed a never-ending cycle.

Strangely, the only time they ever discussed her resistance was when he held her in his arms after they'd made love. She had allowed him that much, to hold her. She'd reasoned that they were both usually exhausted after the act, and the nights did get cold on Vegeta-sei. At least that had been the excuse she'd used the first time it happened. He waited until she was just catching her breath to ask her if she had proof enough that she cared for him. And she would always answer `no'. He was never daunted by her answer, would just nod his head and say that he would try harder the next time. She usually remarked that there wouldn't be a next time, and he would smirk, knowing that there was as much truth in that statement as there was light in a black hole. That had annoyed her at first, but now it just became part of the routine, the script that they followed in order to coexist with one another. He would continue to urge her into admitting she felt for him, and she would continue to resist.

But now things were different. From what she'd gathered from Vegeta's words, he was no longer going to allow her to deny her feelings for him. She knew she had been contradicting herself on almost a daily basis, shouting at him in anger while she gazed at him with longing desire, and by now he must have known that she felt more than she admitted to. Now, there wasn't a reason to deny him any longer. But could she do it? Could she give herself completely without any regret and simply forget all of the anger she had let bloom inside of her? It had been a bitter battle she'd waged against him. She wasn't sure how easily a year's worth of animosity could be forgotten in so little time. Maybe it couldn't be. But if it couldn't, there was no way she could stay with him. He may not have destroyed Chikyuu, but he was still the killer Yamcha had said he was. From the little Vegeta had told her, she knew that he carried resentment towards his father over his abandonment to Frieza, but the Saiya-jin race were born battle-thirsty warriors. Vegeta might have hated the control Frieza wielded over him, but could very well have enjoyed purging. So the real question was, did that matter? Could she forgive his past and take what he was offering her?

She had almost been willing to do that before she had received Yamcha's letter. The guilt had been eating her up inside, but it had been hard to deny the feelings that coursed between them every time Vegeta was near. That was why it had frightened her when Vegeta suddenly announced that he would no longer accept her denial of her feelings. She knew that if he brought up the fact that she was giving herself to him every night, regardless of her anger, she would have to answer him. And thus, she would be forced to admit that she did feel for him, that she did love him, despite what she'd thought he had done. After Yamcha's letter, there was now no reason she could supply that made any sense. She would have to accept the truth.

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