A Saiyan For All Seasons

Chapter Four

Peculiar

Disclaimer: I can't write much else, but it's never going to be mine!

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The cold air slipped around Bulma, creeping over her overalls and trying to bite through the material. She'd been standing in the same position for the last ten minutes, and despite the warmth her body held under the thick material, she was starting to feel the cold. The sun of the morning had disappeared, and now the day offered little more to grab the imagination than a muddle of clouds that blanketed the sky in differing shades of grey.

Vegeta's gravity room loomed large, stamping its authority over the patch of land it inhabited. It was ridiculous she knew, but Bulma wasn't entirely sure how she should proceed. If Vegeta was anywhere in sight then it would make things easier, but the kitchen had been empty when she returned from a slightly longer phone call to Michelle than she'd anticipated. It seemed that she was asking the impossible of her personnel manager, who declared that they were on a skeleton staff as it was, due to some especially virulent flu outbreak and that no one could possibly be spared until the next day.

What did she do now? Did she wait for him to return, shivering her arse off out on the frozen lawn until his majesty deigned to return, or did she bypass the security settings and dare his temper by entering of her own accord? Gods! She was really losing it. What did it matter if she went in without his permission? It was her right to go wherever she pleased on her father's property. Just because he had some weird territorial love affair going on with an inanimate object didn't mean that she had to freeze!

Bulma walked forward with more confidence than she felt, pressing the button on the side to release the ramp and give her access to the main chamber. It hissed to the ground and she climbed up to the control panel. Her fingers slid smoothly over the buttons as she entered the family password, but they froze when the door opened of its own accord.

"What took you so long?" snapped the prince's familiar voice, and Bulma looked over to see him standing in the open doorway.

"Sorry," she said. "I was held up trying to sort out the windows. They'll probably be out 'til tomorrow."

"It does not affect me," he said, turning away from her. "Do what you have to."

Taking that as an invitation to enter, Bulma followed him inside the GR and dropping her bag of tools next to the central computer, opened up a panel on it and slid underneath.

She set about her work systematically - flipping through the memorized blueprints, pinpointing areas that could have been affected and then starting a process of elimination. The inside looked okay, but there was a slight smell of burning coming from the PSU. Unclipping the casing and looking at it harder confirmed her suspicions.

It was strange for such a well-guarded piece of technology to fail, especially on one of her father's designs, but it was easy enough to fix, and that was all Bulma was concerned about. She really didn't need to be up to her elbows in computers on her day off.

Taking out the fried components, Bulma ruffled a hand through her hair, and was surprised to feel that sweat had started to bead on her brow. She pushed herself out from the computer, and held the burned out PSU for Vegeta to see. She was shocked to see that he hadn't been standing around and waiting for her to finish, but rather had continued to do a warm up as though she wasn't there.

His powerful legs were crossed as he was doing finger push-ups with one hand behind his back. There was no sweat on him, and Bulma silently marvelled at such phenomenal power and control. She knew what he was doing could hardly be considered energetic by his standards, but it was still something extraordinary to be witnessed in such close proximity.

"Well?" he asked, not even breaking pace.

"The PSU blew. Was the door open when Yamcha powered up?"

"Yes." He scowled. "It was."

"To control the amount of power you produce in your usual training sessions, there has to be a barrier in place at all times. It's continuously emitting electrical charges that counteract against the ki, keeping it contained and protects the central computer."

"I am very well aware that it completes the circuit. I did not plan on your fuck-wit human frying it with his ki."

"Yamcha is not a fuck-wit; he just had a lot of shit going on in his head, okay! It's not like you haven't done the same thing."

He flipped up from his push-ups. "That is different, Woman. I was unused to this planet's environment and its infuriating limitations. I will not be so careless in future."

"And I doubt Yamcha will either. He never has before; so let it drop."

"Whatever," he dismissed. "How long before it's fixed?"

"Child's play!" she bragged. "Once I find replacements - fifteen minutes max."

"Good, get what you need and return immediately."

Bulma watched as he sat upright on the battered tiles. His eyes were closed now, as though he were meditating, but there was a crease in the line of his large forehead that only seemed to make an appearance when he was deep in thought or confused.

Mildly interested, but not prepared to risk asking, she turned out of the room and went to the laboratory to look for spares.

When she returned Vegeta was still in the same position, only his scowl was more pronounced than it had been before. Shrugging her shoulders and passing it off as being a particularly unsettling Vegeta mannerism, Bulma got to work.

As it turned out, fifteen minutes was an overstatement. Her father's knack for detail was a triumph as displayed in the meticulously simple wiring. She was done in less than ten.

"All fixed," she said, sliding out and wiping an arm across her forehead. "Man!" she exclaimed, fanning herself. "Is it always this hot in here?"

"Residual ki," Vegeta explained, slowly opening his eyes.

"Oh," she said, looking over the controls. "Let's just make sure this thing works, so I can actually enjoy the rest of my day off."

Bulma switched the power back on, keeping her fingers crossed. The lights blinked on immediately and she let out a long breath. "Well that's a good start. At least there's power."

By this time Vegeta had abandoned his seat on the floor and walked up behind her. She could feel his presence in a flood of warmth that coated her back as he looked over her shoulder. There was something enticing in the thought of being so close to him. She wondered what it would feel like to have him touch her. She'd touched him several times; it was just part of who she was, but he was always so guarded and had never even come close to initiating body contact with her. He felt so warm, even though he was easily a foot away. Was that residual ki as well?

"You will leave now," he snapped. "I have to train."

"Impatient, aren't we?" she said with a smile. "I thought you wanted perfection."

He growled. It was low and threatening, making the air vibrate and the hairs prick up on the back of her neck.

"I do."

"Then you're just going to have to wait for the computer to complete its diagnostic."

She turned around, slightly startled to find he was closer to her than she had originally thought. The ring of personal space that he was always so conscious of maintaining was now forgotten as he stood before her - those deep-set eyebrows and the deathly glare that accompanied them were now only inches away from her face. His nose was practically touching her own; their heights were so similar.

His eyes held onto hers for a second before he let them drift over her body. Bulma tried to hold the blush back. There could be no mistaking his actions. He was looking at her for a reason and the longer he looked, the deeper his scowl became. He began to walk around her. She followed his glare, moving to keep her eyes on him and his odd behaviour.

"Take two steps forward," he demanded. "And then stay still."

"Vegeta…?"

"Do it!" he spat.

Knowing she didn't have any choice in the matter, she took two grudging steps. They allowed Vegeta access to circle her, those critical and scowling eyes burning into her.

"Are you going to tell me what all this is about?" she asked, catching his eyes as he walked in front of her once again.

"How long before the diagnostics are finished?" he said, not answering her.

"Twenty minutes - give or take a few."

"I guess it can't be helped."

He walked angrily away, his eyes leaving her abruptly, as he found a position he seemed more suited to in the left centre of the large room. It felt like he wanted her to leave, but she knew she had to stay until the computer had finished.

"Are you aware that you have a very peculiar ki?" he asked after a couple of minutes.

Bulma was surprised. It had been so long since he had initiated a conversation with her, and she tried desperately not to laugh at the manner in which he had gone about it. Peculiar! What kind of statement was that? First she was exotic and now peculiar. He really had found an effective way of shattering her ego.

"Peculiar?" she chuckled. "Gee, thanks."

"I am only stating facts, Woman."

"Okay then, seeing as I'm stuck with you for the next twenty minutes, you might as well explain why."

He harrumphed, crossing his arms. "It seems that I am able to pick your ki up more clearly than I can others on this planet and I am curious as to why this should be the case. You have no more power than the majority, and a lot less than the warriors, and yet…" He snarled, his face forging even more imposing lines. "And yet I can sense your life energy easily."

Bulma smiled. It was a treat to see him so confused. She knew the answer of course, but would it be worth telling him? If she knew his disposition, (and she was starting to think she did,) he wouldn't believe her anyway. On the other hand, they hadn't had a proper conversation in so long. Did she really want to stop this one in its tracks without even seeing where it might lead?

She smiled, walking towards him as he held his eyes arrogantly away. "Of course you can, Vegeta."

He didn't look at her, but there was a shift in his body on her approach.

"I'm just your everyday, average human, right? But did you know I can sometimes sense ki?"

She heard a slight gasp as Vegeta's eyes involuntarily found their way back to her and widened a fraction.

She giggled slightly. "I didn't think so. Other than Yamcha - no one does."

"Absurd!" he snorted.

"No it's not! Okay, I can't do it like you guys can, but in close proximity I can pick up hints of power. The more familiar the person, the better I can sense them. Son-kun and Yamcha I can pick up fairly easily now. I'll know they're coming before they walk in the door. I don't think it's a fully developed sense though. I mean, take Piccolo as an example. I hardly know him; I've never said more than a few words to him, and I've never been able to sense when he's close. The same goes for others as well."

Vegeta's head was inclined towards her, and his stance had become more relaxed. "Can you sense me?" he asked.

Bulma smiled. "Oh, yes."

"How? In what way?"

"I always know when you're in the room. Even if I haven't seen you, I can always feel it." She looked at him more earnestly, her smile still impeccably directed towards his scowl.

"What does it feel like?"

"At first I feel it right here." She pointed to just below her ribcage. "But it depends - if you're actually looking right at me it tingles up my spine. It was kind of disconcerting at first."

"And now?"

"And now?" she repeated, feeling the heat rush to her face and (to her embarrassment) between her thighs as well. "Well, now it's different."

"In what way?"

Was that a smirk she saw? No! She was imagining it, but how did she explain it to him without it sounding too emotional?

"I don't know. It's more familiar now. Perhaps I've just become used to it."

His brow furrowed.

"It could be why you're feeling my ki more noticeably. Living with people for a certain length of time makes you more in tune with them, you know, on a subconscious level."

"But you don't live with Kakarrot, or the Human," he reasoned. "And I don't have the same problem with your parents."

Bulma laughed. "So not only am I not beautiful, but I'm peculiar and a problem as well now, am I? Wow, Vegeta, stop with the compliments already." She winked and tilted her hips to the side. "Or you could really turn a girl's head."

He snorted as though he found her behaviour annoying, but there was a slight twitch to his top lip that belied the gesture.

"If you were able to control and manipulate your life energy then it would be understandable," he persisted, ignoring Bulma's more playful turn to the conversation. "But as it is, I see no grounds for the phenomenon."

Bulma laughed, deciding to put him out of his misery once and for all. The poor guy had suffered enough. "Look, Vegeta. I know you're not going to like this explanation, but it's the only one I have to give, okay? So listen to me and don't make any decisions or snide comments before you hear me out."

He didn't move - didn't given any indication either way as to his reaction, but he didn't protest, so Bulma felt comfortable to continue.

"Did you ever think that it might be because you actually like me?"

Vegeta's arms fell slack to his sides and his eyes widened. His expression held a look of indignant surprise that was wholly unnatural for his usually serious and proud face.

"Woman, I--!"

She shook her head between giggles. "Nuh-uh, Vegeta! Think about it seriously. Yamcha and I were lovers for so long, and now we're very close friends. Goku has been my best friend from sixteen, and as much as you don't want to hear it, and I can't believe it either, I do - for some inexplicable reason - like you as well. Maybe your senses are heightened because you like me too?"

"Preposterous!"

"Is it?" she said with a dismissive shrug of the shoulders. "Then give me a better reason?"

He was rendered silent.

"You see - you can't, can you?"

He scowled and gathered his arms over his chest once again. "No," he admitted. "I cannot."

"Ha!" she laughed, moving to him so close that only his arms separated them. "Then I was right! You do like me?"

He sighed briefly, relaxing his stance a little and turning his gaze directly onto her. "Like you? Hmm…maybe… maybe there is some truth to that."

Bulma wasn't quite ready for what came next. He smiled. It was an honest to goodness smile, and it set his features alive in a way that she had never believed possible. He looked - handsome! Truly handsome, and her breath hitched in appreciation. Damn! If she had been in serious trouble before, then she was in deep shit now. With moments like this to dwell on she was never going to get over this obsession with him.

"But!" he continued, the moment lost with his smile. "That admission goes both ways, Woman - And," he stressed, "does not go beyond this room, is that understood?"

"Understood," she said with a smile and a wink. What did she care if no one else knew? She had the admission, ripped so beautifully from his lips, and she had already found it a comfy home in a little pocket next to her heart - the same section that was growing bigger as the weeks progressed.

"No one!" he repeated. "Not your friends, not you're family, and certainly not your piece of human trash!"

Bulma was suddenly flung out of her happiness. It was obvious to whom the last reference was made. Why did he have to keep bad mouthing Yamcha in that way? What had he ever done to deserve such little respect? She felt her anger grow.

"Yamcha is not trash!" she seethed.

He chuckled openly. "Protective of him, aren't we, Woman? He is a liar and a slacker; so I'll speak as I find."

"And I've already told you he's got a lot going on in his head at the moment, so respect as much and cut him some slack!"

Bulma turned her back on him, choosing to ignore his growled comment along the lines of 'respect being earned.' The mention of his name, however, did throw up a reminder of her and Yamcha's previous conversation, and since she still had to share the GR with him for at least ten minutes, Bulma decided to put her anger to the side.

She blushed, wondering where the next topic of conversation would take her.

"Vegeta?"

"Hn?"

"You do know that . . . I mean . . . ."

The words fell silent on her lips. How did she put the subject to him without sounding completely stupid? She was just thankful she was turned away so Vegeta wouldn't notice her embarrassment.

"Spit it out!" he snapped.

"Yamcha and I. You do know we're not sleeping together, right?"

Her face felt like it was on fire.

There was a low chuckle from behind her, but Bulma refused to face it.

"But of course I do," he said in a long, low drawl. "I have a nose for such things."

Damn him! That did nothing to tame the glow of her cheeks, and she was well and truly caught out as he brushed by her and turned on the spot to take undue amusement in her flushed complexion. One of his gloved hands abandoned its usual perch and reached out to her face. The fingertips didn't make contact with her skin, but traced within millimetres of her cheeks, hovering over the red stains.

"I can smell that you have not had sex since I came back from space over a year ago," he whispered. "At least - not with another person."

She was completely stunned, and the blush burned brighter than before. Vegeta's fingers had stopped a fraction from her hairline and remained there, hovering infuriatingly close to her skin. Did he want to touch it? It looked like he was contemplating it.

There was no hiding, and it seemed to push her to a stage beyond embarrassment.

Braving the intensity of his eyes she took a step forward, letting the digits bump gently against her left cheek. She wanted so badly to close her eyes and breathe the moment up, recording it to memory for a time when she could recall it as much as her body needed, but she didn't want to lose sight of those features and study their reaction.

His face didn't move. There was no trace of emotion on it. The only indication that he was actually comfortable with the situation was the slow sideways motions his gloves made against her skin - almost as though he were experimentally stroking her, but not quite that personable.

"Then what was all that shit about earlier with Yamcha?"

"It's called having fun, Bulma," he replied. "But then, you already knew that."

Both stood still, each watching the other. She wondered if Vegeta realized he'd called her by name? He didn't seem to acknowledge the lapse from his usual impersonal attitude. She wanted to point it out to him, but there was little that could be gained by it. If it was a slip then she could feel completely secure and happy with leaving it as such, and hope that it might be a more common gesture in the future.

"Ai," she agreed. "I guessed as much, but thank you anyway."

"Why would you thank me?"

"Because it actually helped my friendship with Yamcha. How long have you known that he's been sleeping with someone else?"

"Long enough."

Bulma was starting to wonder if it would feel just as amazing to have his fingers caress over other areas of her body as well, when they were pulled away. The movement, conducted in such a very curious and studious fashion, was something that her fantasies had never thrown up. In her dreams he was always rough, always dominating, always controlling, and even though his features displayed control, there had been enough exploration in his touch to know that there were grounds for a different dimension to his lovemaking. She regretted the absence of his fingers, but she couldn't be very disappointed - it wasn't everyday she managed to get one of the proudest and most powerful warriors in the universe to show such gentleness.

"The offer's still open if you want it," she said, as he continued to stare.

"And what one would that be?"

"The friendship one," she said, smiling confidently.

He snorted and turned away. "And my answer is still the same, Woman. Stop being foolish!"

"Is it foolish?" she asked. "You already admitted that you like me."

"True," he said, "but you should not read more into it than there is. It does not change who or what I am. Any trivial amount of notice you may have forced onto me will not change my objectives. I will be Super Saiyan, I will defeat Kakarrot, and I will destroy this planet if it is necessary to do so. I will do it without hesitation and with no thought to what creatures inhabit it. So call me your friend if you will, but I will continue to call you foolish for believing it. Save your weak emotions for someone who gives a shit and spare your brain the indignity!"

His words were cold and practically spat, but there was little Bulma could say in protest. She believed every word. She hadn't forgotten what he represented, what his ultimate goals were, or how little he felt for any creature other than himself, but she had hoped - hoped that there would be something she could say or do that might manage to change it. It was crystal clear to her now that she was doing precisely what she had promised herself she wouldn't - wanting him to change so badly that she was deliberately ignoring his true nature, blotting out what she didn't want to see, and embellishing it with what miniscule amounts of good she could.

That left her with one burning question - did it matter?

The answer was quick and resolute.

"No."

She had already given a portion of her heart to him, and realistically there was nothing she could do about it now. Even if it got ki blasted into the next dimension, she knew it would still be there in the afterlife to torment her.

"No? No to what?" he demanded.

Bulma was surprised. Had she really said it out loud?

"Answer me!" he threatened, making her take a few steps back as he advanced.

"I said no!" she spat at his furious face. "I can do what the hell I like with my own emotions. You're right! It is foolish but I can't change the fact that I already consider you my friend! I can't explain it. I know full well what you are; I know exactly what you want, but for as long as I'm human then I will feel and will care. To ask me to do otherwise is pointless, so," she said, digging a finger into his chest, "you are just going to have to deal with it! Got it?"

He snarled, grabbing the hand at his chest and twisting it to a painful angle above her head, forcing her even further back. Bulma winced. The power in his grip felt like it was going to shatter her hand any second. The air around her grew hot, as she could see his ki manifest itself around his body and glow dangerously against the room.

"How do you suggest I deal with it, Woman?" he shouted, as her feet bumped against the skirting of the curved chamber wall. He pushed her until her back curved to an almost impossible angle.

She couldn't answer. The pain was too intense.

"Oh, believe me, Woman. I have taken note of your attempts to get close to me. I've seen you watch me, I've seen you try to remain disinterested and I have been equally thankful for it. But what you probably don't know, Bulma, is that I've had thoughts about making you extremely sorry for it!" he continued, not prepared to wait for anything she might say. "Did you know that? That I've thought about taking more than what you were offering and twisting it for my own benefit?"

She shook her head, tears starting to surface under the pain.

"I don't give a shit about friendship. My body has been the only thing to ever tell me what I want and right now (whether you know it or not) that is dangerous for you!"

"Vegeta, you're hurting me!" she gasped, feeling something give way in her wrist, but refusing to scream out.

"Then hate me!" he smirked, turning the joint to administer more pressure.

She shook her head.

"Hate me!" he demanded.

"No!" she screamed, as red-hot spikes of pain rushed through her wrist and shot like hundreds of tiny bullets down the length of her arm. "I can't!"

He chuckled over her - the sound disturbingly cruel.

"I didn't think so," he muttered.

His eyes locked with hers as though he were trying to find something in their glistening blue depths.

"You are stronger than you think," he whispered a moment later and then he was gone to the other side of the room.

Bulma dropped clumsily and heavily to the floor, her uninjured hand instinctively protecting the injured.

"Take this as your last warning," he snapped - his voice not completely under control. "Stay away from me!"

Despite her pain and Vegeta's callous attitude, Bulma refused to let the tears flow. She was too proud for that. He would not break her. He would not push her away. She'd come too far, had put too much time, and invested too much of her own sanity in the matter to back down now.

Pushing against the wall she tentatively got to her feet even though her legs were still wobbling under the adrenaline and pain.

"Take yourself away if that's what you want, Vegeta," she whispered. "You're not bound to stay here, but you can't bully me out of my feelings. So don't even try."

She took a few exploratory steps forward, and when she knew she could walk without fear of collapsing, she continued with more confidence.

Reaching the computer she eventually took her good arm away from her swollen and sore wrist to see how far the program had progressed. "Ah," she said, her voice shaky but resolute. "I see the computer's finished. Everything is working fine. Looks like you can train again."

She took one long look at Vegeta's back, and realizing he had no intention of acknowledging her, Bulma tuned away from the computer and towards the door.

She had all but walked through it when his voice floated gently across the room.

"There is usually no warning when I'm concerned, Woman," he whispered. "Put it to good use."

She paused mid-stride, looked out across the frosted lawn and watched a starling as it swooped across and landed gracefully. It strutted confidently along the grass and on meeting her fathers 'kitty' vigorously flapped its wings. The cat, once full of slick movement and ready to strike, was stunned by the unusual movement. It hissed once in warning and made a full retreat. Bulma titled her head to the side and smiled. She felt new and powerful confidence flood through her as she compared the situation.

"I do as I please," she replied, and walked down the ramp with her head held high. Vegeta could huff and puff as much as he liked, but in one element he was wrong. She did know how strong she was, and, in time, he would learn the true extent of her strength as well.

She was Bulma Briefs!

Bulma Briefs always got what she wanted.

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A/N - Well it's been an eventful two weeks. For those of you that don't know, FF.net decided to delete my account last Wednesday. Then again my football team (Norwich City) got promoted to the premier league, and my best friend found out she was expecting her third child on the same day. So I guess the good out-balances the bad.

That night I found myself smiling instead of wanting to cry, which is what I felt like doing at first - not because of the decision (ff.net hold the right to host whatever they want on their site and to delete whatever they don't), or because of the stories (seeing as they were hosted here anyway) but because of the hundreds of wonderful reviews I lost. I know this is going to sound corny, but reviews are my inspiration and determination combined. Without them I wouldn't be writing fanfiction right now. A special thank you goes to everyone who's followed me for the last four years. Old and new reviewer's alike.

FF.nets decision won't affect my work. I will continue to write, I will continue to progress and I guess I'll continue to be Vegeta's slave as well. ;) Any way this is kind of long. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

See you for the next update - Ember

P.S. What would I do without LisaB? She corrects my shocking grammar and diabolical spelling mistakes. She's a great writer and wonderful friend. Thank you for beta-ing!