After Kuririn and his daughter had left, Mirai Bulma eased back into her desk chair and buried her head in her hands.

The display of emotion and love had been heartbreaking to say the least. It was all she could do to hold back tears as she watched Kuririn and Marron bend down at Juuhachi-gou’s side and talk to her. It was especially heartbreaking to see tears running down Kuririn’s cheeks, and hear the waver in his voice. She never would have pictured such love and adoration shining in his eyes. She had known him nearly all her life, but she never thought that he had the capacity to love someone that much --- especially Juuhachi-gou, the woman that had killed him in the future world. Seeing how much Kuririn obviously loved his wife was like a cold slap in the face to her. For one, it just made her responsibilities that much greater; she had to succeed, if only just to bring this family back together. And also, it was a slap in the face because she knew that she would never have that kind of love.

Vejiita had cared for her….She was pretty sure about that. And as ChiChi had often told her, he had probably even loved her. He had loved her as much as his Saiya-jin heart had allowed him to. But because he was Saiya-jin, because the blood of a thousand prideful warriors ran through his veins, he was never able to show it. He was too proud and too guarded to ever open up his heart and let her know how he truly felt. Perhaps if she had had more time….perhaps if he hadn’t of died so soon, she would have been able to see it eventually. But now she would never know. He was gone, and her chance for love and happiness with him was gone as well. There was no turning back; there was no changing what had already been written in history. It was over. Simply, over.

She would never be able to have someone stare at her the way that Kuririn had gazed at Juuhachi-gou. She would never be able to feel a love so strong that it transcended even the darkest depths of evil and horror.

The only love that she had ever been given --- the only love that she was destined to have, was gone. And she doubted that Vejiita had even had the capacity to love her that much, anyway. He had had far too much darkness and guilt and anger already buried in his heart. The small space he had made for her there was nothing in comparison to the room and attention that he gave the other parts of him. That was just the way that he was, and she would just have to accept that. It had been so long since she had seen him that she often fooled herself into believing that there had been more love in his eyes when he looked at her. But if she concentrated on logic instead of romantic illusions, it was clear that he had barely even felt for her at all. How could he? He didn’t give a damn about anything else. She would never have been more important to him than winning, or becoming stronger and more powerful.

Had she been a fool to fall for him, then? To give up the life she had with Yamucha and completely change the course of her existance?

No, she didn’t believe that.

Even if Vejiita hadn’t been in love with her, she had been in love with him. Deeply, completely, passionately in love with him. And no matter how much he had hurt her, no matter how angry he had made her, she was still glad that she was able to experience that feeling. Out of all of the things that she accomplished in her life, nothing brought her more joy than to be able to gaze at the profile of his face and feel her stomach flutter and her heart stumble. She had never been able to show him that; she had never been able to give him everything that had been inside of her. Maybe she was just as stubborn and prideful as he had been, because she kept it all locked up and never let him see it. Back then, it had been too much of a risk. She had been frightened of the strength of those feelings in her heart, and even more frightened that they would not be reciprocated.

It was only now that she realized her mistake. If she had been honest with him, if she had let him know what she felt for him in her heart, maybe she would have gotten a piece of that back from him. Trust only came with trust. If she expected him to open to her, then she had to open up to him, as well. It could have happened; if he had been alive longer, there might have been a small glimmer of hope. But he had died, and that hope had died with him. And she had been forced to live each and every day of her life after that wondering.

He made his way into the laboratory quietly, but not in a devious manner. Vejiita refused to be reduced to sneaking around and hiding. He might not have been sure about coming here, but that was no reason to cower down and spy on her. He was stronger than that. Besides, there was nothing to fear. She was a lowly human, and she didn’t have any kind of power over him.

Or did she?

He had to admit that it was hard to keep himself stoic when he saw those turquoise strands and that creamy skin. It was hard for him to resist when he saw her sitting at her desk, her head buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. When she wasn’t speaking, when she wasn’t looking at him, it was all too easy to think of her as the woman that had been his mate. After all, they looked exactly the same. It was the same exact Bulma on the outside. And when he thought of her like that, it made him want to reach out and run his fingers through those long turquoise coils that had pooled around her face, and move his hands over that soft, smooth skin. And seeing her upset was even worse. It made him want to crumble, made him want to cry. It made him want to throw out every single scrap of Saiya-jin pride and throw himself into her arms.

“Stop your crying, woman.” He spoke suddenly. “All of that ridiculous makeup you wear is going to melt off.”

She looked up quickly, watery deep blue eyes meeting his instantly. There was a quick stab of pain in his heart when he saw her look at him like that, but he ignored it, and crossed his arms casually. Narrowing his eyes, he looked at her in silence.

Indeed, her makeup had gotten messed up. There were dark smudges under her eyes, and she was doing her best to wipe them away with the tips of her fingers. He noticed that her hands looked older; they weren’t quite as smooth and flawless as he remembered. There was no manicure, no bright red or pink nails. They had been cut down completely and wore no kind of polish. There was no ring on her finger, no bracelet on her wrist. No jewelry at all, not even a simple watch. The Bulma he remembered had been fanatical about accessories, and was always wearing something. He didn’t think he had ever seen her without those silly ornaments pierced into her ears. This Bulma managed to look tougher. Instead of the tight little dresses and incredibly short skirts and shorts that his Bulma had so often worn, this Bulma was dressed in a simple shirt and slacks. A lab coat was casually draped over the back of her chair.

“Vejiita.” She said after a moment. “What are you doing here?”

He thought for a moment. He wasn’t quite certain why he was here. But he did know that he had a few things to say to her. He wanted to talk to her about what Mirai Trunks had lectured him on last night. He nodded his head once, sharply. “I came to tell you that I’m not sorry.”

A blank, surprised look appeared on her face. “Excuse me?”

“Your son wanted me to apologize to you. But I’m not going to.” Vejiita explained to her simply. He moved towards her, maneuvering around the row of countertops and stopping to stand at the corner of her desk. He looked down at her startled face, took in the watery eyes and the tight frown. Now that she was closer to him, he could see the slight wrinkles that had formed around her eyes, and the permanent crease in her brow from too much frowning. He crossed his arms again and looked down his nose at her, giving her a glare that wasn’t fierce, but challenging. “I’m not sorry. What you did was stupid, and you deserved to be yelled at.”

“I know it was stupid of me.” She admitted calmly. She pushed her coffee cup away from her and began methodically organizing the files that were stacked on the desk, as if she needed something to do with her hands. She worked fast and quick, tapping the edges of the files together so that they were in one neat pile. Her eyes studiously ignored him as she did this, concentrating full on the busy task before her. “I’m not even going to try to defend myself. What I did was wrong, and I know it. So maybe I did deserve to be yelled at. But I’m not entirely sure that I deserved such cruelty.”

“Your son says that you were just trying to prove something to everyone.”

She paused, placed her hands in her lap, and looked down. “Hai.”

“You don’t need to prove anything.”

“I think I just wanted to show everyone that I am still the same --- that I am exactly the same person that I was years and years ago.” She told him honestly. Her eyes met his again, and he felt the same cold jolt when he looked into them. She bit her lip. “After finding out that….that your Bulma had died, I realized that there might be some bitter feelings about me being here. That was why I wanted to prove myself so badly. I really feel that I need to do that, just to gain everyone’s trust, everyone’s friendship.”

“You didn’t need to prove anything, woman.” He asserted. “You’ve done enough just by coming here.”

A tiny light of hope came into her deep blue eyes. “You really think so?”

“Didn’t I just say it?” He asked, but his voice didn’t come out quite as harshly as he wanted it to.

The sheen of happy tears that appeared in her eyes just about broke his heart. She tilted her head and smiled at him, the same exact smile that his Bulma used to give him when he had said something “sweet”. He had to turn away from her, turn his head to the side so that he wouldn’t have to look at that same expression and remember all of the things that he wanted to push away. His voice came out rough and gravelly: “It wasn’t a compliment.”

She smiled again, and angled her head so that she could catch his eyes again. “To me it was.”

He nodded slightly. All of the sudden he felt an overwhelming urge to leave. It was just too familiar. He just didn’t think he could stand here and talk to this woman who was so much like his dead mate, and yet so different at the same time. It brought up too many familiar feelings and too much grief and sadness. And though he didn’t want to admit it, it brought up a little bit of anger as well. Not directed at Bulma of course, but himself --- he hated himself for being too weak to be able to even be in the same room with this woman. Here he was, the prince of the Saiya-jin, one of the greatest warriors that ever lived, and he wasn’t even strong enough to guard his feelings around a defenseless human woman. He nodded at her again, then turned and started walking towards the door, hoping with all of his heart that she wouldn’t stop him.

When she saw him walk towards the door, her heart just about leaped out of her throat. She pushed up from her chair immediately, and was so desperate that it took her a moment to find her voice.

“Vejiita!” She cried suddenly, and it came out strangled and small.

He turned to her wordlessly, staring at her with familiar dark eyes and an annoyed frown. The line of his jaw was strong, his skin was smooth and flawless, and it seemed at that moment as if every single muscle in his body was heightened --- even though he was just wearing a casual shirt and jeans. He looked at her with the same expectant and vaguely irritated look that she remembered from so long ago, and her eyes welled up again to see it. She was so struck by the familiarity of it and his sheer attractiveness that she couldn’t even speak. She opened and closed her mouth several times, just trying to make herself say something, anything!

“What?” Vejiita snapped and he crossed his arms over his chest again. “What is it, woman?! I haven’t got all day.”

“W….would you mind staying?” She finally stumbled out. The words came perhaps too quickly and she fumbled around with files on her desk, trying to give her hand something to do before she started gesturing like crazy and making an even bigger idiot of herself. She looked up at him and did her best to look professional and calm. “I need someone to keep an eye on the jinzouningen. I know that they are restrained and everything, but there is still just that tiny feeling of doubt lingering in the back of my mind. I would just feel safer if you stayed in here with me.”

He hesitated a moment, then shrugged. “Fine.”

Absurdly pleased with herself, she smiled and gestured towards the empty chairs that Kuririn and Marron had sat in earlier. He walked over to them, but didn’t sit. He simply stood behind one of them with his arms still crossed, looking like an angry statue.

She knew that it was going to be up to her to start a conversation. Vejiita never volunteered any kind of communication. Before he had died in the future world, it used to take her a full five minutes before she could even drag one sentence out of him. If he didn’t feel like talking, he simply wouldn’t --- even if he was asked a question. She was used to this though, and it had never really bothered her that much. To her, getting Vejiita to talk was almost like playing a game. She would have to be very careful about what she said and how she said it --- if she said the wrong thing, Vejiita would bolt, and then there would be no chance for conversation at all. And she really didn’t want that. It had been years since she last saw him; she just wanted to be able to hear his voice again. She didn’t really think that was too much to hope for.

She nodded towards the small windows near the ceiling, where a huge mass of dark clouds could be seen rolling in. She had seen the weather forecast earlier that morning and they hadn’t mentioned anything more than a light drizzle, but it looked more like a hurricane was flying in towards them. “It looks like it’s about to storm outside.”

He didn’t say anything in reply, but he did look out the window. She counted that as a small victory and smiled again, picking up one of Gero’s files and spreading it out before her. Talking was fine, but she needed to get a bit of work done too. There was a lot of research that needed to be done before they would be ready to operate on the jinzouningen and take out whatever evil had been programmed into them.

“It seems like we never have any strong summer storms anymore.” She told him absently, while running her finger down the column of figures on the right hand side of the file. She nodded towards the window again, but didn’t take her eyes off of the work in front of her. “I don’t know if it had anything to do with the jinzouningen or not, but I don’t think we’ve had a really good one ever since we came back up from the Underground City. I remember how strong they used to be, though. I used to love watching the rain outside my window when I was a little girl. And there is nothing quite as thrilling as being out in the middle of a storm, soaking wet and giggling as you run for cover.”

When he still didn’t say anything, she looked up at him and gave him a sad smile. “It was stormy on the day that Trunks was born, do you remember that? The thunder was booming outside so loudly that I could barely concentrate on my breathing.” She paused for a moment, almost certain that her next comment would give her the win. “Did you train him when he was old enough? Trunks, I mean? Were you the one that taught him how to fight?”

Vejiita didn’t waste a second replying. He gave her a disgusted look and frowned deeply, his eyes narrowing. “Of course. Did you honestly think I’d let Kakarroto’s brat or the Namek teach him how to use his power? I’d rather eat my own arm.”