It was one of the strangest, most disheartening things that had ever happened to him.  He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood in an effort to hold back the anguished wails that were threatening to burst forth.
    It was almost as horrible as the very first day he'd been in Frieza's 'service'.  The blonde-haired female had led him down a long hallway to a room she claimed was his.  It was almost identical to the room he'd had on Frieza's ship.  Only larger, and the balcony looked upon the blue sky.  It wasn't a portal to the void of space.
    The woman explained the 'TV' and he had his own bathroom, which was good.  But as the door shut behind her he almost crumpled to the floor in agony and shame.
How could they have done this to him?  Why did they wish him back?  It had been so much better to die after his pathetic failure.  He had said that there had to have been a God to have a Saiyan beat Frieza.  It was true.  There was a God.  And he hated Vegeta.
    But then, who didn't?  He used to believe it was fate.  Fate that had cast his awful lot in life. But he didn't know what to think now.  He didn't really believe in a God either.

    When he had died he had wandered through a fog, searching for someone, anyone who could explain where he was and if this was his punishment.  He hadn't really felt anything.  No pain or anger or even deeper understanding.  He felt nothing, as if emotions had been something in a dream and dreams had been a mere fleeting idea as he wandered through the mist.
    Sometimes he felt someone was near, maybe even someone he knew.  And it had seemed like years and years had past as he'd wandered.  So he'd groped blindly for that presence, not caring if it had been someone in life he'd hated.  But everything was just out of reach.

    And then he'd been back among the living, just like that.  Dirt had filled his mouth as he gasped for air and he had frantically clawed to the surface.  He pulled himself from his own unmarked grave, gasping and choking for air. Why had anyone bothered to bury him at all?  He had sat still and quiet then, the only sound his ragged breathing.  He was whole and alive!  But how?
    He finally ceased trembling and quickly gathered his wits.  It looked as if not a day had passed.  But then again, it had been like that the whole time on Namek.  It had seemed like an endless day, so much that Vegeta had almost collapsed from exhaustion after several days unable to sleep under the glaring suns.
    His back hurt also.  He could all but feel the clammy fist hitting him repeatedly in that same spot.  But the hole that had pierced his heart was gone; he still felt like he'd just received the beating of his life, but he had plenty of energy, which was odd.
    The sky was thick with raging chi, even his newly developed sense was being bombarded.  He headed straight towards it anyway.  And saw..

    The Legendary Super Saiyan.  And it was...

    Kakarotto...

    He almost doubled over and retched.  But instead he grit his teeth and straightened.  He had something else that HAD to be done.  And he could come to grips with this agonizing fact later.   He flew at Frieza at top speed, screaming his name.  The look on the Ice-jinn's face had been almost comical-

    -And then he had almost flown into a tree.

    He slowed and gripped a branch to stop himself, his entire frame shaking in fury and barely suppressed anguish.  The thick branch creaked and groaned in protest before the wood exploded into mulch in his hands.

    Had it all been a dream..?

    No.. there were voices not far from him and he could sense the chi of many Namekians and Kakarotto's brat.  He drifted to the ground and as soon as his feet touched the earth, he collapsed and vomited sour blood.  The smell alone made him retch again and he staggered to his feet and stumbled away.  How long had it been since he'd anything to eat?  The blood had probably been from all the internal injuries Frieza had dealt him.  He'd swallowed a great deal of it during his last fight.

    If you wanted to call it that.

    Vegeta groaned at the memory, tears springing to his eyes.  He hastily wiped them away even though there was no one to witness his weakness.  Had that happened earlier that day?  The whole past year was all becoming a blur.  Too much had happened to shatter the wall of his pride in too short a time.  He staggered to the bed and collapsed face down on its soft surface.

    When was the last time he'd slept in one of these? He wondered.  It seemed like he'd spent more time sleeping in a sitting position than in a bed.  Beds were only for fucking.  But he dismissed that thought entirely.  Now was not the time to think of THAT.  His bones ached with weariness, his muscles spasmed in agony.  He knew without looking that his back was probably covered with ugly bruises.  Probably even deep muscle bruises.  With an exasperated sigh he sat up and wiped away the tears that seemed to have no end.

    What's happened to me? Vegeta wondered in panic.  He hadn't shed a tear when he'd learnt of his planet's demise, and now he couldn't stop.  What the hell had happened?  When had he lost control of his emotions?

     He began to tug off his armor with a ragged gasp of pain.  He tossed it in the corner and wasn't surprised when more pieces crumbled off at the impact.  The gaping hole in the back from Frieza's blows made up most of the damage.  He peeled off his top with clenched teeth and used the material to wipe away more damned tears that seemed to  seep out of their own accord.

    He quickly glanced behind him at the long mirror that hung on the back of his closed door and hissed in disgust at the sight.

    There was only one bruise on his back, right next to his spine.  It was exactly the shape of Frieza's fist and it was almost black.  There wasn't a single mark elsewhere, he had intended to cause as much pain as possible.  Why was this still here?  There were even a few scabs where his skin had torn and bled.  Perhaps the Dragon balls had only reversed the life-threatening wound.  But he had been unable to move...  Perhaps that would have killed him eventually, after many slow hours of agony.

    But it still didn't explain the bruise, shouldn't it have disappeared as well?  Almost every movement sent a dull shock of pain through his body.  And he was tired.  But he was also very very hungry and wouldn't sleep at all until that was taken care of..

    He turned about and his eyes gazed at the myriad of scars covering his reflection's flesh and slowly his eyes raised to meet his own and he almost cringed at the sight.  His eyes were red from the copious amounts of tears he'd shed in the past hour alone and his nose was clogged.  And something about his expression was just completely... wrong.  And as he became aware of this the look intensified and a soft moan of dismay escaped him.

    Of course he'd seen this face before.  But he'd seen it long ago in the faces of broken slaves.  It was pure, undiluted misery.  But also acceptance of that misery.  Or more likely, resignation to the misery.

    The idea sparked a fierce rage inside of him and he shook his head in negation.

    "No, I can't, then he's won.."  he murmured.  "Then he's taken everything.."  he scrubbed his face with the heel of his palm, unwilling to shed another disgraceful tear.
 
 

    He glared at his reflection for a few minutes longer, and somehow his former hateful self emerged  He headed to the bathroom.  There was a shower, a toilet, a sink and a mirror and a closet full of towels and ... stuff.  He wasn't quite sure what any of it was really.  He lifted the lids and took experimental sniffs.

    Most of it smelled really good.  One smelled so good in fact, he squirted a bit on his finger and licked it.  But he immediately spat it out with a grimace.

    "What the hell?" he snapped.  He felt like an idiot.  It was stuff to wash with.  "Why does it smell like food then.." he mumbled angrily, his stomach rumbling in agreement.  He tossed it back in the closet with an annoyed snort and stepped in the shower turning the water on as hot as it would go.  After a few minutes of fumbling with the settings he finally got the hot splash of water raining down from above.  With a weary sigh he sank to his knees and let all the blood and dirt swirl down the drain.

    How had it all gone so wrong?

    It had been the dragon balls.  Those fucking Dragon balls!  He had heard of them and dared to hope.  That had been his first mistake.  It had been a fools quest all around and he had paid for his stupidity in unimaginable ways.
    Now Radditz and Nappa were dead, and even he had paid the ultimate price, but what did it mean now that he had been wished back, given his life back...?
    He blinked in amazement at the very idea, and it had happened to him!  Never in his life had he imagined that he would be resurrected from death.  The very idea was something he'd never imagined.  It went against everything he'd ever learnt!
    But it had happened, and now, he was cursing the unimaginable gift.  But... To him it didn't seem like a gift at all.
    The last Saiyan no Ouji was at the mercy of his enemies.  He had no idea what to expect, and half of him was more than wary about leaving the room.  The Namekians were throughout the compound.  All of the living human allies strayed, perhaps to see what he would do.
    He grabbed a bottle of some sweet smelling soap and dumped it on himself, scrubbing until he was covered head to toe in suds.  As he stepped into the cooling spray he shivered.  Never had he been faced with something like this.  He had no clue as to what he might do.  He'd never been without purpose...  Without even a thing to keep him occupied.
    On Vejiitasei he had been training to become a prince and learning every stupid law and protocol and annoying historical account.  On Frieza's ship he had trained and purged.  Now...
    "Kakarotto mentioned the training he did on the way here...  But he was in a ship..  Maybe.." he trailed of considering as he turned off the water and stepped out.  If there was ANY way that he could do that kind of training maybe that would help him catch up to the brain-damaged fucker.
    He grabbed a towel and dried off as well as he could and stepped into his room.
    Immediately he noticed his training suit was gone and in it's place was a pair of dark jeans and a black tank top.  Not to mention a few other articles he deemed unnecessary.  He donned the clothing without protest, it actually looked rather decent as he gazed at his reflection in the mirror.  The pants were a little loose, but nothing too terrible.
    He headed to the door and threw it open and several loud beeps almost sent him diving back inside.  Three mechanical figures advanced beeping erratically.  He tilted his head, considering them and sent three tiny ki blasts at them, the explosions louder and fierier than he would have imagined for such small things.
    He scratched his head, peering at them curiously, and ignoring the footsteps thundering down the corridor.
    "What the hell?" a female voice cried, one he recognized even.  It was the blue-haired girl he had threatened on Namek.  "Oh, Vegeta." She said as if she wasn't surprised.  He gazed at her curiously, saying nothing.  "I'm still programming them to recognize everyone.  They won't hurt you."
    "I'm sure." He murmured.  For a long minute they merely gazed at each other, saying nothing.  He could tell she was sizing him up, and found it almost comical.  He took the opportunity the get a closer look at her as well, he hadn't really had time before.  She was good-looking.  Nice body, breasts, and a pretty face.  And her strange hair and eyes, they were definitely interesting.
    "Are you hungry?" she asked.
    "Yes." He said immediately and she offered a lopsided grin which completely unnerved him.   His arms dropped to his sides and his fists clenched nervously.  And to his complete surprise, she immediately read the nervous tension in his stance and her smile faded a bit, but never left entirely.
    "It's alright, go downstairs, my mom made you plenty.  The Namekians only drink water, so we don't have to really worry about them."  She turned her attention to the smoldering wrecks on the floor with a sigh. And he stared at her for a long moment in confusion until her back stiffened and she turned to gaze at him questioningly.
    "Why are you doing this?" he said quietly and Bulma was taken aback, this was not the same Vegeta she had known and feared, and she had just been asking herself that very question, to hell with his good looks.
    "Well someone has to keep an eye on you, where else would you go?  Not many people know even how strong Goku is really."  He nodded once as if the answer didn't surprise him, but she didn't miss the spark of anger that ignited in his eyes.  She watched him disappear down the hall towards the kitchen.  She sighed and turned her attention to the destroyed robots on the floor.
    She didn't know why she'd invited him into her home to be honest.  The answer she'd given him had been the same she'd given everyone.  And it was the truth..  Mostly.
    The real truth was that she was still scared of him, but from what Gohan had confided to her in a strained whisper earlier, he had been beaten to death by Frieza, the man who had enslaved him by Vegeta's own account apparently.  And she had been even more stunned to hear that Vegeta had actually shed tears and begged Goku to kill Frieza.
    His subdued behavior didn't really surprise her after that grave confession.  But she wondered how long it would last.  She had, of course, thought of building him a gravity room to keep him content and out of her hair, but the thought of aiding him in increasing his already overwhelming strength was not a pleasant one.  Especially if he really was just waiting for Goku to get back so he could fight him.

    Vegeta followed the smell of food and wasn't disappointed to see tons of it all over the table.
    "Oh Vegeta!" The blonde woman cried.  "I hope your hungry because I've been cooking all morning!"  Apparently she had for there was so much food his mouth was watering and he was staring stupidly.  She shoved a plate and utensils into his hands and showed him a seat and went back to the kitchen, humming happily.
    He was about to grab a handful of everything available but stopped, eyeing it warily and sniffed.   There was a lot of smells to sort through but after a few minutes he decided that none of the food had any kind of poison.  With that out of the way he stared at the blonde woman uneasily.
    Why were they doing this?  He'd done nothing to deserve it.  But his stomach betrayed him by loudly demanding to be filled.  He shook his head and began to cram food into his mouth anyway, no longer able to deny the hunger he felt.  At first he didn't even taste what he was eating.  There was tons of meat and vegetables in gravy and a small mass of small white things that really didn't have much taste but when the vegetables and meat and gravy was dumped on top of it, it was great.  There were chunks of cooked meat and fish skewered on iron spokes with vegetables in-between and he ate nearly all of those.  Not to mention several bowls of what the blonde woman had said was 'rice'- the white tasteless stuff.  There were several round balls of it packed tightly together and a small bit of black.. something held it together.  These he did not touch.  Besides there was plenty more to eat besides that.
    And he did until he couldn't possibly swallow another bite.
    "By, the way, honey, my name is Bra if you need anything just yell." She said with a wink.  "I'm Bulma's mother."
    "Bulma?" he said, yawning and blinking heavily.  Had she put sedative in his food?  He was so tired.
    "You know her.  The blue hair?" he nodded, trying to stifle another yawn.  She smiled and suggested he take a nap.
    "I'm not tired." He lied, but headed up to his room anyway.  He passed Bulma in the hall, but didn't even notice her as he yawned again, nearly cracking his jaw.  He headed back up the hall and to his room, and collapsed on the soft mattress, fully-clothed.
 

    He woke several hours later.  It was early night, then sun having just sunk below the horizon.  The sky was still a light purple.  Light enough to see outside easily enough.  He felt better than he had in months and lay there a moment longer, stretching comfortably.
    He hadn't realized how tired he'd been, and the fact that he had woken in his own bed instead of in a prison cell attested to the fact that Bra had not sedated him.  But he still could not understand it!  How could they not have some ulterior motive for giving him a place to stay?
    He didn't doubt what Bulma said about them wanting to keep an eye on him, although if this was how they did it, by giving him all the food he could eat and a nice place to sleep, and not watching his every move... Then this world was softer than he thought.  Or stupider.  He didn't know which was worse.
    Did they just not care?  That couldn't be it.  They had fought him tooth and nail since he'd first come to Earth.  He got up and went to the bathroom and found a tooth brush and toothpaste sitting on the sink.  He sighed in annoyance.  He'd never seen a planet that made everything so complicated, but was more than happy to get rid of the nasty taste in his mouth.
    That done he stepped out onto the balcony and dropped gracefully to the ground and immediately was spotted by a gaggle of Namekians and human allies.  He ignored them and began to walk without a destination in mind, more out of boredom and curiosity than anything else.
    Did the planet have anything in the way of entertainment?  Well, let's be fair, which intelligent-life-bearing planet didn't?  But he would have to find it and that was not the easy part.  In fact, it was much more difficult because of the fact that he could not decipher the native's written language.  It was a bunch of interesting looking squiggles to him.  But what was the point of learning it?  he could figure out what each establishment was if he only walked inside.
    He walked through a small park that sat between Bulma's rather large home and a city filled with the usual dozens-of-flights buildings.  Compact vehicles hovered past at speeds that he was sure humans with barely any chi would be unable to handle.  But they all seemed to enjoy it immensely.  There were also hundreds of humans on foot like him.
 

    Most of the places he passed sold things and that was it.  But none of it looked amusing.  Food, clothing, things of that sort.  He rolled his eyes and continued walking.
    His patience was wearing thin after almost an hour and a half.  But he smelled the ocean far off and he knew from experience that most any port had at least a few mindless diversions.  He headed that way and the muted throb of music caught his ears.
    He came to an intersection and glanced down the road to his left and saw the very thing he'd imagined.  He headed that way and saw a strip of road with nothing but places to eat and drink and whatever the hell else.  At least, that's what it appeared to be.  And from the large groups of well-dressed ningen heading there it couldn't really be anything else, he reasoned.
    He walked in the first place that wasn't blaring loud, annoying music and looked like it sold some kind of intoxicant.  It was dark inside as most usually were and saw rows and rows of bottles behind the bar.  He walked up and a withered old man headed over.
    "What'll ya have?"
    "I don't care.  Anything.  Something strong though." The man smiled as if he knew something secret Vegeta did not, and perhaps he did.  But Vegeta didn't care.  He knew what this shit would do to his body, but he couldn't care less.  It wasn't anything permanent and it definitely wouldn't kill him.
    If anything he hoped it would at least put him in a better mood, which was, after all the purpose of the foul-smelling crap. The man poured him a tiny little bit in a tiny cup and he eyed it warily.
    But downed it anyway, and tossed a wad of cash he had discovered in his pockets shortly after putting them on.  That had really pissed him off, he didn't know whether to throw it in the faces or waste it to spite them.  The old man's eyes bulged at the amount of cash lying at his feet.  Took one of the bills and handed the rest back.
    "Give me some more." Vegeta demanded.  And the old man returned with an unopened bottle with a black and white label and several more pieces of money.  "What's this?"
    "Uh.. Your change, and if you would like more this bottle is only 15,000 yen."
    "Give me... three." Vegeta said and  tossed more bills in his direction.  The old man scrambled off and returned moments later with the liquor and Vegeta grabbed them and walked out the door.

    He drank one of the bottles by the time he reached the yellow domes of Capsule corp.  He felt warm, and his lips felt like they were going numb.  He tripped on something in the yard and stumbled, but didn't fall.  If he had, he probably would have laughed.  The pain had vanished and he felt immensely relaxed and he felt compelled to grin like an idiot.  Like Kakarotto.  That was enough to make his features crinkle in disgust, but moments later the smile was creeping back slowly but surely.
    He opened the door and stepped inside.  He set the remaining two bottles on the counter and the rest of the cash.  He gazed into the darkened room next to the kitchen and noticed that the large screen television was on.  He walked over to the couch and saw Bulma lying asleep.  He frowned decided how to wake her.  He wasn't about to touch her.
    "BULMA!" he yelled, loud enough to wake everyone.  She sat up with a gasp and he waited for her to regain her wits.
    "What happened?" she said, her voice low and strange.
    "Get up and go sleep somewhere else." He said.  She stared at him for a moment, her expression blank, and then her eyes darkened in rage.
    "What the fuck is your problem you jerk?  You have your own damn TV!"
    "I don't want to sit up there, I want to sit here."  Her expression changed from angry to incredulous.
    "So what?! I was sleeping!" she cried.
    "So go upstairs and go back to sleep.  I want to sit here." He said, smiling.
As soon as she saw the little grin a cold blade of fear pierced her and she immediately stood.
    "Fine." She said and hurried upstairs.  He watched her go with a frown.  She's gotten scared?  But he hadn't threatened her in anyway, and he hadn't been angry with her.  Quite the opposite in fact, he'd been highly amused.
    He shrugged and returned to the counter and grabbed one of the bottles, opening it and took a swig. He flipped through the channels and everything was completely stupid.  But he managed to finish the second bottle, and was definitely feeling a little tipsy.
    "This is boring."  He said and struggled to rise.  After his third try he managed to get to his feet but almost fell forward onto the tea table.
    With his third bottle in hand he headed outside.
 

Bulma lay staring at the ceiling.  She couldn't fall back to sleep.  When Vegeta had grinned at her like that she'd thought he was about to hurt her and she wasn't about to let that happen.  Although so far he had been acting pretty normal.  And that was the problem.  Did the fact that he had to accept her hospitality bother him that much?  He'd been arrogantly proclaiming his superiority just after they'd appeared on Chikyuu but once he'd stepped in her house he'd barely made a sound.  He'd talked a bit, but even his voice was quieter.  And his words hadn't been injected with venom.

And then she remembered what she'd heard earlier while walking past his room.  A muffled thud had come from behind his closed door as she was heading to her own room next door.  She didn't know what had possessed her mother to put his and a few Namekians in such close quarters with her.  The Namekians she didn't mind, it was Vegeta.

She hadn't lied when she'd told him he was cute.  And now she wished the words had never past her lips.  They mocked her now each time she looked at him.  He was good-looking.  Too good looking for an evil heartless bastard like him.  And he would never ever be anything but a killer.  Never be someone to love or who could love another in return.  If her second-hand experience with Frieza's brutality had horrified and disgusted her, she only could imagine what Vegeta had endured in his service.  She had heard the Namekians that had actually seen Frieza describe him as well and his penchant for mind-games.  Had he used those tactics on  his soldiers as well?  Someone that domineering would likely have done so with pleasure and ease.  They had all spoken in almost-awe of his unimaginable power.  At that she could no longer listen.  What that monster had done to Krillin, Gohan and all the Namekian people was disgusting.

She wanted to say Vegeta deserved what he'd gotten.

But she had begun to lose her conviction earlier that day outside his room.  After the thud she had almost knocked to see if he was alright, but a muffled whimper stopped her.  Her heart was in her throat and she heard another sound that confirmed it, a soft sniffle.

She took a step back, her hand on her chest.  If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was a man's tears.  Her heart felt like it was tearing in half.

Stop it Bulma!  He's a psycho murderer, he deserves this! She mentally berated.  But the pain didn't lessen.  She wanted to do something, anything to stop his tears, but didn't dare move, except to slowly inch towards her room.

After a few minutes she  made it in her own room and heard the faucets turn on in his.  She sighed deeply and snuck to her lab, all the while plagued by the thought of him able to feel anything other than anger and hate.  It was a revelation, but it wasn't.  Gohan had told her about his death.  He'd shed tears then too, but she just couldn't imagine it.

Now she could, and she wished she couldn't.
 

She lay in bed staring at the ceiling.  She had to get up.  She couldn't even keep her eyes closed for more than a few seconds.  She sat up with a sigh.

She walked down the hall and stairs and scanned the living room and kitchen.  No Vegeta.  But she did see an empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter.  Her jaw dropped.  He'd drunk the whole bottle by himself that much was obvious.  But why?  Was he really that upset?

Of course he is Bulma, you idiot! She chided.  She saw the sliding doors by the kitchen table were slightly open and headed that way.  It was still slightly humid outside even at three AM.  She looked around and didn't see Vegeta anywhere.  She walked around the property which took almost twenty minutes and to her vast annoyance, he was nowhere to be found.

"Where the hell is he?" she cried once she reached the kitchen doors.

"Who are you looking for?" said a voice above and behind her.  She spun around with a gasp and saw one of the tall warrior Namekians, Juuro, his name was.

"Oh, uh.. Vegeta."  Juuro scowled at the Saiyan's name.

"Is he causing trouble?"  Juuro growled.  Bulma smiled.

"No, he's just.. I want to know where he is."  The Namekian nodded and closed his eyes, his head turning a bit to the side.

"He is on the roof." Juuro said with a nod of certainty.

"Oh." Bulma murmured crestfallen.

"Is there something wrong with that?  Shall I advise him to get down?"  Juuro sounded more than happy about the prospect of telling the Saiyan no Ouji what to do, but Bulma shook her head.

"No, I just wanted to ask him something."

"I don't advise that.  There was something a little off about his chi, I'm not sure you should approach him."  Bulma's eyes widened in alarm.  What the hell did he mean?

"Is there something wrong with him?"  She said, trying not to sound too concerned.  Juuro, tilted his head, considering.

"I'm not sure what it is.  But something is not right."

"You have to take me up there."

"Are you certain?  He's a murderer.  I will not see many of my brothers again because of him.  He is not to be trusted."

"I know, but I have to keep an eye on him.  Both eyes."  Juuro nodded in complete understanding and immediately picked her up and sprang into the air.
 

They found him in moments at the far end of the compound.  He had probably even seen her walk past as she'd searched for him earlier.  He didn't turn or acknowledge her presence.

"I will give you privacy if that is what you wish, but I will be close enough to stop him from hurting you, even though it may mean my life."  Bulma blinked in astonishment.

"But why?" she gasped before she could stop herself.  It was Juuro's turn to look amazed then.

"You have given shelter and taken care of all of my people.  I could do no less!"  Bulma smiled.  She was still scared of Piccolo, but she was beginning to love Namekians.

"Thank you." She said with a smile.  He nodded and disappeared form the roof.
 

She took a deep breath and headed over to Vegeta's side.  In his hand she saw another bottle of Jack, this one was also empty.

"Holy shit." She murmured before she could stop herself.  She would have been dead after drinking half a bottle and he had polished off two?!

"Vegeta?" she said softly.  He started and the bottle rolled out of his grasp and off the domed roof onto the walk below where it shattered with a loud crash.  Vegeta turned to stare at her in surprise, and immediately he pointed at her a said:

"Hey you!  I need something to do, I'm bored as fuck!"

"Vegeta, did you drink both of those bottles?"  He titled his head and confusion stole over his features.

"No.  I had three."

"WHAT?!" Bulma cried, and then forgetting caution she fled to his side.  To her surprise he cringed away immediately.  As if he were expecting her to attack.  "Are you trying to kill yourself?" she hissed.

"No." he said slowly.

"Then what would possess you to drink that much, you could die from alcohol poisoning.

"No I can't."

"It doesn't matter if your Saiyan, Vegeta, if you drink enough it'll kill you!" she continued.

"So what?" he snapped.  "I'm supposed to be dead anyway." He glared at her as if it was her fault he was wished back and she began to edge away.

"Vegeta, if you were meant to be dead then you would be." She said softly.  He raised a brow, his expression suddenly sublime.

"No I don't believe you.  This is just more torture that I get for what I've done." He said.

"How is having a second chance at life torture?" Bulma said in disbelief.

"You call this life?!" he cried.  "I was supposed to be the King of my people and they're all dead!  And my sole purpose for outliving them was to kill Frieza!  So you tell me what kind of fucking life this is?" he snarled bitterly.

Why had she worried about him?  He had been behaving almost normally and she had inadvertently sparked that consuming fury within him.  "That bastard Kakarotto achieved Super Saiyan!  A third class fucking NOTHING!!" he nearly screamed, "AND YOU CALL THIS HELL LIFE?!" He cried bitterly.  Juuro was standing beside her, glowing with ki.  Vegeta was either too drunk to notice or he didn't give a shit.  But Bulma felt marginally safer.

"Vegeta, I'm sorry." Bulma said.

"Why?" he cried, his eyes wide and shining.  "Why do you care?  Why aren't you happy like everyone else?  And who the fuck are you?" he snapped, finally noticing Juuro.

"I am here to make sure you do not hurt her."  Juuro said, not bothering to answer his question.  Vegeta's eyes narrowed to hateful slits.

"I can't do that you idiot, I owe her already."

"What are you talking about, you don't owe me anything-" Bulma cried.

"You expect me to stay here for nothing?  You expect me to believe you want nothing in return?!  Do I look like a fucking idiot to you?!" Vegeta bellowed.

"I don't want anything from you Vegeta!  What could you possibly give?  From anyone else I would expect some fucking gratitude but I know you can't possibly feel those things!  You don't feel anything except hate!"  she screamed.  His features calmed during her tirade and went impressively blank.  She had killed any pleasant feeling resulting from the alcohol, and had ignited his fury.

"What the fuck do you expect you asshole?  I wasn't showered with affection my whole life like some fucking baby!" he screamed.

"I KNOW THAT!" she screamed back.  "I'M JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU, JERK!"

"Why?!" he cried.  "WHY?!  Why didn't you leave me to rot on Namek?"

"He died?" she heard Juuro murmur in amazement.

"I didn't make those wishes.  Goku did!" She cried and instantly regretted it.

"What?! WHAT?!! KAKAROTTO DID THIS?!" He shrieked like a maddened animal, his aura igniting.  Bulma jumped back into Juuro's arms with a startled cry.

Juuro pushed her behind him, and then propelled himself in Vegeta's direction.  Bulma didn't see what happened but suddenly Vegeta fell down, unconscious.

"What did you do to him?" Bulma asked quietly, creeping up and staring down at the comatose Saiyan.

"I- I don't know how I was even able to get so close.." Juuro murmured in awe.

"He's drunk." Bulma said softly.

"I hit his pressure points.  But he will wake soon."

"Let's get him inside."
 

Juuro carried Vegeta to his room and then came back for Bulma.  She had him drop her off by the kitchen but as soon as he said goodnight and departed she fled up the stairs to Vegeta's room.

He was already starting to come around, moaning pitifully and thrashing.  She sat on the edge of his bed, wondering what was possessing her to put her own safety on the line again and again.

Perhaps it was the knowledge that he did feel after all.

He awoke in pain.  But he was still swimming in that sensation of utter numbness as well.  The Namekian had hit his pressure points and he hadn't even seen him coming to defend himself.

With a groan he opened his eyes and saw Bulma sitting at the end of his bed.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier."  Confusion replaced anger.

"What?"

"About you not having feelings.  I know you do, you just hide them very well."  He scowled.

"Go away.  You killed my buzz and ruined my night.  Now all I have to look forward to is a hangover."  Bulma frowned.  If it was anyone else, she would have slapped them in the face.  But Vegeta would likely kill her.  She decided to try a different approach.

"I'm sorry."  He sat up with a snarl.

"Stop apologizing!" he yelled.  Bulma studied him silently for long moments.  Did he always act this way?  He'd been semi-normal behaving before but now... it was almost as if-

"Vegeta, why are you determined to have everyone hate you?  Is it because we're humans?" he said nothing, but only gazed at her in open confusion.  "It's because you think we're weak isn't it?  Just because we openly express the emotions that you hide from everyone."  His face flushed in anger.

"I'm not hiding anything." He said, but they both knew he was lying.  It wasn't one of his strong suits, and it showed.  But she had been almost dead on, and the fact that he was actually trying to smother the painful emotions surging through him wasn't as bad as the fact that he wasn't doing it well enough.

But she was also wrong in part.  The sad fact was that Vegeta didn't even have an inkling of some of the emotions she referred to.  Things like love, empathy, these were unknown to him.

But Bulma didn't know.  She smiled triumphantly, further enraging the Saiyan.  Why was he letting her talk to him like this? He wondered.

"Vegeta.  You hide everything but anger and hatred.  Do you like being angry all the time?" She asked.  He studied her for a second.  She wasn't mocking him.  It was an honest question.

"No." he muttered, glaring at her.

"Can't you just relax, no one's out to get you, so far no one hates you, not even the Namekians."

"So?!" he said, not caring if they DID hate him.

"So, you don't have to be so wound up all the time.  Everything about you says your just waiting to be attacked and I'm telling you it won't happen.  Probably not even if you provoke people."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Vegeta said in a flat voice.  Bulma blinked in confusion.

"Doesn't it?" Vegeta sighed.  She was right, and it only made him angrier.  Who was she to tell him these things and make him feel this way?  "You are miserable because you want to be.  Because you think you deserve it.  That's what I think."

He didn't know what to think.  I never deserved this! Was all that sprang to mind.

"No." he said shaking his head.  "You don't know what you're talking about.  Maybe concerning humans but not me.  Now leave.  I'm going to sleep."  His voice was toneless as if the conversation had taken a vital part of his will.  He didn't meet her eyes again but merely drew his legs up and stared off into space as if she wasn't there.

She said nothing in return, not unaware of the effect her questions had had on the last Saiyan Prince.

TBC...

Man I didn't know when to stop, even still I'll have to write more.

Chapter 2
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