A/N: I am so, SO sorry. I had the worst writer's block for this chapter. I've had this started for MONTHS and just finished it. I knew how I wanted it to end, but I could not figure out how to get there (insert silly metaphor for life, yeah?). I'm still not happy with this chapter, but this is the end. FINALLY. Though, I'm planning on tagging on an epilogue at some point. Please tell me what you think. Thanks everybody for all the support!

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ.

o

Bulma flung her arms out, wide and free as her chest heaved with excitement. Behind her stood Piccolo and Kami, a steady wall of comfort as Shenron floated above them with cunning red eyes, overwhelming the rocky landscape.

"Say your wish," he ordered.

Bulma took a deep breath, eyes watering with awe and joy.

"Shenron," she shouted with all the force in her body. "Bring back all the people of Earth who died in Frieza's attack!"

"Granted," the dragon replied, voice causing even the mountains to tremor.

There was a swell of tension in the air, then a release that whirled around them with gentle insistence.

Finally, she cried to herself.

They're back!

O

"My Lord," Zarbon greeted, kneeling briefly before facing Frieza. "I've the quarterly sector reports."

Frieza waved a hand negligently, gaze focused on the console that indicated their destination, planet Earth.

Zarbon did not like this new, focused master. He did not like that Frieza cared more about this human than about business and murder. This was unusual, and it made the alien even more unpredictable than usual.

"We lost three planets to Cooler on the north edge of the galaxy. Sales have slowed to four planets a quarter." These numbers were dismal, at best. "Sire, if I may – "

"What, Zarbon?" Finally, Frieza was looking at him, eyes narrowed and deadly.

Zarbon bowed his head, attempting to look as subservient as possible. "Sire, this slump in business is severely damaging. May I suggest we make our way to HQ instead-"

Zarbon was thrown back, body slipping across the smooth metal floors with a comical squeal. He sat up slowly, pausing when Frieza stood in front of him. As small as Frieza was, his final form was still overwhelmingly terrifying.

"Zarbon," he murmured, "are you questioning my judgment?"

"Never, sire, I apologize for my intrusiveness."

Frieza's tail flicked back and forth, as though ticking off the reasons why he shouldn't kill Zarbon.

"It is lucky, for you," Frieza continued, "that I value your presence. We will continue to Earth. We will find my human. Only then will I see to business."

Frieza turned away, and Zarbon felt his body relax as the threat of sudden demise was lifted. Frieza had already returned to staring at the console. "Leave," he ordered negligently, and Zarbon did, trying to appear as unruffled as possible.

O

She found her parents first; wrapping herself in her father's comforting scent and her mother's bubbly joy. Tears ran down their faces as they rejoined outside the destroyed and overgrown Capsule Corp compound.

"I'm so glad you're back," she sighed, her body squashed between her parent's dual hugs.

"I must say," Dr. Briefs murmured, "that this is quite unexpected. What happened?"

"I collected the Dragon Balls," Bulma said. "I wished you back."

They separated, and she noticed how he threw her mother an odd glance. "We were worried when we couldn't… find you." In death.

Bulma's lips twisted, and she shrugged. "I was captured." And she still couldn't quite settle her feelings about the evil lord who had destroyed her people. She hated him, no doubt. But, just a little bit, she kind of, sort of, liked him. A little bit.

"But," Bulma crowed, "I escaped, and made my way back, and now everyone is alive!"

She pulled her parents back into her arms, her chest tight as she thought how they could've been gone permanently. But they were there, alive, and her world was right.

O

Bulma sat on her rumpled bed. Her bedroom was in shambles, dust and dirt covering everything. Windows were broken, and a gentle breeze floated through, playfully tangling her dirty locks. Makeup was scattered across the floor, knocked over from some blast or other. She stood and opened her closet, filled to bursting with bright fripperies, many that had fallen off their hangers to pool to floor.

Bulma frowned, gently picking up the rumpled dresses to slip them back on their hangers. Her previous life seemed so far away, when her priorities had been topped by fashion and makeup. She wished she had focused more on inventions, defenses….

But that was in the past now. She had to focus on the future, the future that would soon be invaded by Frieza. He would follow her, there was no doubt. She would need to make sure everyone prepared, that they trained, that they built defenses.

Bulma slipped a light summer dress off a hanger, letting the soft floral pattern run through her fingers.

They had to prepare for the future, but that didn't mean she couldn't look nice doing it.

O

Bulma soon found her parents in the kitchen, surrounded by bots cleaning, fixing and spiffing the home back to its original valor. She imagined they would soon be making their way out to the city to assist the rest of the population.

Her father glanced at her first, looking up from the bot that he had been relaying a message to.

"You look nice, dear," he murmured.

"Adorable!" Mrs. Briefs followed, smiling sweetly.

"Thanks," Bulma murmured, though she felt oddly vulnerable in the dress. The soiled black clothes from the ship were folded on her dusty dresser, waiting for when they could be washed. She had thought about tossing them, but some strange emotion stayed her hand. Not nostalgia, but close.

"I think I'm going to find to my office," she told them.

"It's still messy," Mrs. Briefs murmured, pressing a brightly painted nail to her plump lower lip. "Would you like a bot?"

Bulma shook her head, giving both her parents a quick on peck on their cheeks before striding out the front entryway, where the metal door hung awkward and bent. She thought about how easy it would crumble beneath Frieza's finger tips, delicate and powerful—

Bulma shook her head and blinked.

Why would she think that? So negative, and at the same time, she was almost proud of him. Disgusting. Bulma curled her nose and huffed angrily, flouncing to where her corroded hover bike sat. She would fix it quick; she was a genius, after all. She would not think about Frieza, unless it involved defeating him.

She left her bike in a snit, but even with her self-induced irritation she paused to run her fingers through the thick grass that tickled her shins.

O

So, maybe he was a little obsessed. Frieza liked to think he was always in control, of others and himself. He justified his little rampage by thinking she needed to be under his control. His little human wasn't even special.

Frieza lounged in his bed, wrapping a dim blue strand of hair around his finger, sniffing the last vestiges of her scent on his pillows.

She wasn't special. She was intelligent, but not in any kind of decent way. Frieza's father always taught him that emotions were stupid, that morals were weakness. His human exhibited both, but Frieza was the youngest in their empire, and thus the one that remembered his and Cooler's mother a little clearer. Barely, but something in Bulma made him remember his mother.

Mother was uncontrollable, flame to his father's cold. Fire to his ice.

Frieza pulled the blankets around him, wrapping the strand of hair over and over. He would find this little human woman, and he would control her, and then he would continue to expand his empire. Earth had been easy to exterminate before, it would be easy again.

O

Their arms circled her, warm and strong, smelling like sweat, grass and sunlight. Yamcha and Goku around her shoulders, Krillin at her waist, Chichi smiling behind them, little baby Gohan snoozing in her arms.

"You have to tell us everything," Yamcha murmured in her cropped hair, his hand coming to cup her hip possessively. Bulma felt a moment of hesitation, but ignored it to favor the bubbling joy that warmed her breast. The yard around Goku and Chichi's little cottage was warm with relief and happiness, like a bubble of safety that Bulma never wanted to leave.

"I will," Bulma assured. "But first, how do you guys feel? Everything back to normal? Everybody good?" She glanced at Gohan particularly – she didn't know what happened to babies when they died.

"Everybody is fine," Chichi replied, lips curling in an adoring, radiant smile as she gazed at her son. Goku stared at them proudly, like a man who had acquired every treasure he ever desired.

"I'm hungry," Goku proclaimed eagerly. "Let's eat lunch!"

They all tromped inside to sit around the table, lounging on mismatched, ragged chairs, homely but inviting. Goku dug in as Bulma relayed a patchy, quilted version of her story. Even she didn't understand her odd connection with Frieza; she certainly didn't expect her friends to understand it.

"We only have about a year, a little less, until he arrives though," she finished. "We have to prepare this time. We have to stop him."

Goku paused his ravenous eating enough to nod resolutely. "Don't worry, Bulma! This time, we'll protect Earth!"

Krillin was a little more reserved in his opinion. "Can we really get strong enough to defeat them in a year?" He laughed nervously. "I mean, they pretty much decimated us before."

Bulma didn't know. She wasn't a warrior; she was a scientist, an engineer. She had always left the combat to them, usually only getting in the way at the worst possible moments. Yamcha, sitting next to her, slid a hand onto her thigh. Bulma stiffened, not understanding why this felt so unnatural. Slim purple fingers flashed before her eyes, and Bulma dropped her fork with a loud clatter.

"You okay, B?" Yamcha asked with concern. The others watched her with worried gazes.

"Of course!" Bulma laughed, shifting her thigh away from Yamcha's reaching fingers. "I'm just thinking all the amazing weapons I could create. I just had a genius idea!" She hoped they wouldn't notice the hollowness to her words.

They didn't, everybody returning to the discussion of training for the upcoming battle. Bulma knew this was better, but she couldn't help but feel disappointed that her friends didn't notice anything was wrong with her.

O

It was late when Bulma clambered onto her newly repaired hover bike to return to Capsule Corp. Goku offered her the couch so she wouldn't have to ride in the darkness, but Bulma refused with a pleasant negative. She needed to get back to help her parents with the repairs.

It was to her chagrin that Yamcha followed her out.

She was straddling the bike, dress hiked up to reveal her thighs. She suddenly wished she wasn't wearing something so revealing. It wouldn't have mattered before. It still didn't. She was proud of her body, but for some reason, the thought of Yamcha touching her skin made her stomach clench unpleasantly. She was supposed to love him, but….

"B," he called, slipping a hand up her bared thigh to rest against the edge of her panties. "I missed you so much."

He leaned in, his breath brushing against her lips, his other hand spanning the small of her waist. He was still roguishly handsome, still adorably sweet, but something was wrong with her. His lips pressed against hers, seeking and gentle, questioning.

Bulma pulled away, casting her gaze to the side.

"Yamcha," she pleaded, hating the way her chest squeezed with guilt.

"What's wrong?" he asked, the hand on her thigh reaching to brush against her cheek. "Tell me, B."

"I don't think I can do this," she blurted, hating that this would hurt him, afraid to lose a person so important to her.

Yamcha tensed, and the noise of the forest, screeching crickets, rustling leaves, seemed like an overwhelming roar.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, hating the way her voice trembled.

Yamcha stepped back, though his palm still rested against her cheek like it belong there, like he was just another part of her.

"You've been through a lot," he said, though there was the silent question. Why?

"I need to think. Things up there-" Space. Frieza. Namek "-made me… I don't know. Things feel different."

"I understand," he said, though he didn't, the hurt was still there, in his voice, the way he hovered, the almost physical ache she could feel.

"I love you, still," she admitted. It was true.

"I'm glad," he said, thumb rubbing against her cheek bone tenderly.

"Just give me time."

Though she didn't think it would matter.

O

The lab was surprisingly put back together when Bulma returned in the early morning. Fatigue gnawed at her mind, but she wasn't ready to sleep. She needed something to distract her thoughts, something to occupy her hands.

She wandered the metallic hallways until she came to a room where the dusty remnants of a transistor remained. Bulma stared at it blankly. Then her eyes brightened. She was running on fumes, since it was nearing sunrise, but once a genius like her got an idea, she couldn't just let it lie.

Bulma donned a pair of too large rubber gloves and some goggles and got to work.

Around noon her father found her. He watched her for a few minutes before commenting.

"That's an awfully big radio."

"Yup."

"Any particular use?" he asked, rubbing his mustache in thought.

Bulma shrugged, though she paused to offer him a loving smile. Her hair was tangled and wild, her dress covered in grease, but she felt determined and cheerful. Dr. Briefs left, but a bot came in a few minutes later balancing a tray of sandwiches and a pot of coffee. Bulma imbibed both gratefully, mentally noting she would have to catch up with her dad later to thank him.

It wasn't until later afternoon, when her eyes were blurry with fatigue and her head was pounding that she finally finished. Bulma surveyed her creation proudly, fists settled on hips in a victory pose.

"Well," she muttered to herself, "better to try it now than later."

There was no screen, and the connection would almost certainly be fuzzy, but Bulma was sure she had created a radio strong enough to reach into space.

Bulma cranked up power, reveling in the soothing hum of power flowing through currents. Bulma entered in the codes that she vaguely remembered and prayed to Kami that it worked.

A few minutes later, Bulma had a connection. Whether it was the right one, she could only ask.

"Hello?" she spoke. "Anyone there?"

O

Frieza woke from the pounding fist echoing at his door. He snarled, smoothly leaping from his nest with sharp claws and a foul mood. He had been dreaming, and in the dream he was with the human, who was bowing before him with subservient adoration.

Frieza ripped the door open, raising his hand to literally rip the intruder in half. The soldier was smart and was already on his knees.

"My lord!" He spit out quickly. "The human has contacted us!"

Frieza paused, re-evaluating the man's life.

His snarl morphed into a slow, sinuous smirk. He shoved the soldier out of the way to stalk the corridors, reaching the com room with a mood entirely uplifted.

He heard her voice before entering, muffled by static, but just as whiny and bossy as before.

"Well," he heard her proclaim, "how am I supposed to know if this is Frieza's ship unless I talk to him, you idiot!"

"He's sleeping," the communicator protested weakly. "We can't just—"

"Move aside!" Frieza ordered, sweeping the man from his sight to study the blank screen.

"Human, enable your cam."

"Frieza?" Said the voice through the mire of static. "That you?"

"Human," Frieza greeted, tail whipping behind him in excitement. "Enable your cam."

"Out of luck, buddy," she replied flippantly. "No cam. Only com for now."

Frieza frowned as he leaned over the controls, all senses alert for her voice. He wanted to see her blue hair, her quick eyes. He wanted to strangle her.

"I will be there soon," he informed her, deadly promise in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah," she said nonchalantly, and he could imagine her waving a hand lazily in the air. "I know when you'll be here. So what have you been up to? Death and destruction and all that stuff?"

Frieza stared at the blank screen incredulously.

"I have been planning the multitude ways of torturing you," he snarled.

"Wow, you must have a lot by now. Shoot."

Frieza blinked incomprehensively. "Shoot what?"

A deep sigh. "Tell me one of the ways you plan to torture me."

Frieza hadn't actually been thinking of ways to torture her. It was a lie. He'd more so been thinking of her acquiescence as she snuggled in his nest. How soft he had become.

"I will rip off all your nails and force them down your throat."

A bubble of laughter. "Gross! Jeez, that's your version of creativity, Frieza! Weak."

"Human, you will address me by my proper title."

"Okay, as soon as you call me by my name, Frieza." She drawled his name tauntingly. If she were in his presence, he would murder her.

"I was never given your name, human."

"Uh, yeah, you were."

Namek didn't count. She had never properly introduced herself. Bulma. He tried to never think of her with her name.

Frieza remained silent, glaring murderously at the consol.

"Remember," she continued, "the note I left you? It wasn't that long ago. You're pretty space-headed for an evil tyrant."

"I destroyed the note," Frieza declared maliciously. He would not admit his incomprehension.

There was a short pause. "Huh," she said. The disappointment was easy to hear, and Frieza didn't understand what the tightening of his chest was, or why he felt the need to soothe her. He hated these unfamiliar waters with this woman, and thus it made him hate her.

"I will destroy your friends and family," he informed her.

There was another pause from her end, and then a loud yawn. "I'm just so tired," she said slowly.

Frieza tensed, once again floundering in foreign waters. "You're pathetic."

If he hadn't been so intent on her voice, his ears searching for any small noise, he may not have heard her sigh.

"I miss you sometimes."

His tail flicked and his hands clenched. His mouth opened and shut. Frieza, for probably the first time in his life, was flabbergasted.

In her normal voice, she continued. "Good night, you murdering bastard. I've been awake for far too long to be talking to you."

"Good night," Frieza said, but she didn't hear her 'murdering bastard's' platitude because she had already disconnected the call. For a long time, Frieza stood there, staring at the controls, thinking maybe they would show him what he desperately wanted to know.

O

Later that night Dr. Briefs entered the lab with the intent to check on his daughter's progress, and perhaps urge her to take a break. He understood her creative impulses; they were in her genes, after all. But his wife had been there to ensure he didn't overwork, and he would do that for his daughter in turn.

He was surprised to find her asleep, slouched in a wobbly stool, body thrown over the console with a petite hand on the power switch. The machine was patchwork, but finished.

With a gentle hand, he nudged her away.

"Come, dear, it's time for bed."

Bulma blinked blearily, rubbing her eyes and standing to trudge after her father. He led her to her room, and she collapsed in her bed.

Dr. Briefs was exiting when her mumbled voice reached him.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I'm scared."

He paused, scratching his mustache thoughtfully. "I'm sure we will be fine. Goku is strong."

She stayed silent. "I know," she murmured, and her voice was more asleep than awake. "I don't want that though…."

Her soft breathing followed, and Dr. Briefs returned to her bedside to dole out a scratchy kiss to her forehead.

"Good night, Bulma," he murmured before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.

O

The Hyperbolic Time Chamber.

Bulma stared at Goku as he told her about it excitedly.

"Don't worry, Bulma!" he announced, "We'll be able to beat Frieza up easily after this!"

Bulma frowned. She was surrounded by the warriors: Krillin, Yamcha, Tien Chiatsu. Even a pissed off looking Piccolo, which seemed to put the other warriors on edge. They all had alighted on her overgrown back lawn with varying degrees of excitement.

"Are you sure it's safe?" Bulma asked; a year was a long time.

Goku shrugged.

"As long as we don't go in more than twice," Krillin said, "we'll be fine."

"Is Chichi okay with this?"

Goku laughed guiltily, rubbing the back of his head. "Well, you know Chichi…." He trailed off.

"Uh huh." Bulma said flatly.

"It's only a day," Goku justified. Even after death, he was as carefree as before. His carefree spirit was indomitable.

"Whatever," Bulma waved. "It's none of my business."

Krillin and Goku grinned.

"Come back when you're done though," she ordered. "I have something else in the works – to help you train."

Krillin whooped, then laughed nervously as the others remained stoic – with the exception of Goku, who was still just smiling gaily.

"Alright, get out of here then!" Bulma grumped, "I have work to do."

"Alright!" Goku said happily. "Bye, Bulma. See you in a few days!"

Bulma shooed them off, noting the lack of a certain warrior. She hadn't seen Yamcha since that night. To her dismay, she hadn't given him much thought, either.

Bulma padded back to the lab, the warm summer air forcing her to wear shorts and a tank top beneath her lab coat. The air conditioning hadn't been fixed yet and it made the lab unbearably hot. It was nice to be outside where the breeze cooled her sweaty skin. Her dad, on the other hand, seemed completely unperturbed by the warmth, going about his business wearing his usual slacks and jacket and looking none the worse because of it.

Bulma let out a huff of breath. Dr. Briefs and she had been working together on a gravity machine. The blueprints had been shucked to the side for years, but Bulma has the bright idea that it could be immediately useful to Goku and the rest, so they had started building the prototype. She just wished they could fix the air conditioning first.

Bulma made her way through the simmering metal corridors until she reached the main lab where the gravity machine was being built. She entered the large, well lit room to find her father directing a bot to put up the tools.

"Are we done?" Bulma asked, confused.

"I'd say it's time for a break. It sure is warm down here."

"You sure don't look it," Bulma said drily.

Dr. Briefs chuckled. "By the way, Bulma, I found a screen you could possibly use for your radio. It might take a bit or rewiring, but I think they will mesh well."

Bulma blinked. "Oh, thanks, Dad. I hadn't planned-"

Dr. Brief's patted her head. "Of course not. I'll see you at dinner." Then he shuffled out without letting her finish her sentence. Bulma snorted before turning to the clicking bot.

"What a know-it-all," she told it, to which it chimed and hummed in response.

O

"I miss you sometimes."

Frieza clicked his nails against the wine glass, lost in thought as his father spoke to him over the com line.

"Son, son?"

Frieza turned his attention to the screen, not hiding his lack of attention. King Cold frowned disapprovingly.

"You have not been attending your empire, Frieza," he chastised. "I raised you better."

"I have other matters to attend, Father."

"None are as important as the Empire!" Cold said reprovingly. "Cooler is putting you to shame!"

Frieza's eyes narrowed. "I really hate to repeat myself, father, but business will have to wait."

I miss you sometimes.

"Frieza!" Cold snapped. "Enough of this! I'm ordering you to return to me at once!"

"I refuse," Frieza said flatly.

She missed him.

How incomprehensible.

Cold snarled at the screen, the most furious he had ever been with either of his sons. Such rebellion had never been expected.

Frieza disconnected the call, not bothering to recognize his father's fury.

He thought.

I miss you sometimes.

O

Bulma stared at the gravity simulator which hummed with use, occasionally hiccupping as something particularly rough happened inside. She was sipping tea and eating finger sandwiches with her mother, who was chatting about a new hairdo she wanted to try on Bulma.

Bulma had her mind on other things.

Like how her radio now had a possibly working camera installed, though she had yet the courage to test it. She couldn't help but think there was something wrong with her, like something had broken in her brain; that she had actually contacted and spoke to the guy who had destroyed her world and forcibly enslaved her.

But Bulma had never proclaimed had the sharpest common sense, always lusting after bad men and getting in the way of battles she should have never been involved in. She might be an engineering genius, but she was never that logical when it came to her life or survival.

"Bulma, Bulma."

Bulma blinked. Her mother was smiling coquettishly at her.

"Sorry, just thinking about my projects," Bulma offered lamely.

Mrs. Briefs tittered. "I know exactly what you need – a makeover!"

Bulma laughed, suddenly awash with nostalgia. She hadn't donned makeup since before Frieza's attack, when there was nothing more in her life than invention and beauty. Her priorities were so different now.

"I don't need makeup," Bulma finally said with a laugh. "I'm beautiful without it!"

Mrs. Briefs tapped her plump lips. "Well, I still have to do your hair. It's a mess. And I have the perfect idea!"

Bulma rolled her eyes and grinned. Maybe a little makeover wouldn't be so bad after all….

O

Bulma eyed her gravity defying locks with some incredulity. Her hair was done up in a stunning display of blue curls that made her head appear much larger than it actually was. She snorted as she straightened a lock, only to have it spring back into place instantly.

Bulma left her room, shaking her head wryly. The hairdo was ridiculous, but her confidence was regained. She'd test her camera. If nothing else, it would be another example of her stunning intelligence.

Determination sprinting through her veins, Bulma strode from her room to the lab. She powered up the radio and hit connect before she could change her mind.

It felt like an eternity before the same peon answered the com call. Not that Bulma could tell by how he looked, because this was the first time she'd seen him, but his shaky, nervous voice was a give-away.

The dull blue alien stared at her in incomprehension, until he spoke.

"Where's Frieza?"

Immediately his milky eyes widened and he stuttered out a quick platitude before snapping at a guard behind him. Bulma examined her fingernails as she waited. It only took a minute before Frieza burst his way into the room, tail whipping behind him.

Bulma glanced up, a vague smile on her lips. It was the first time she had seen him since Namek, and he was the same, and for some odd reason, very easy to look it.

"Frieza," Bulma greeted with a small wave.

His red eyes narrowed, but a malicious smile flitted about his purple lips. "Human."

"Bulma," she corrected but he just responded with a delicate shrug.

"How far out are you?" she asked.

"Close." He cocked his head, brow furrowed slightly. "What is wrong with your head?"

Bulma scowled, then giggled. She ruffled her curls playfully before replying. "It's my new hairdo! You like it?"

"It is horrendously ugly."

"You're just jealous."

"I will murder you and bathe in your blood."

Bulma snorted. "Wow, buzz-kill much?"

A heavy silence enfolded them, as they stared at each other through com screens, millions of miles between them and an infinite space. Bulma wondered why she had done this, why she would every want to speak to this monster.

"You know," she said, a knife through the silence, "Earth has some of the best wine in the galaxy."

Frieza sneered, but Bulma knew she had his attention.

"If you hadn't killed everybody," she continued, "you would know that."

"Purging has a higher priority that wine tasting."

Bulma shrugged. "Just think how profitable Earth could be if you actually let us join you, instead of slaughtering everybody for a one-time sale."

"I like slaughtering."

"Yeah, whatever," Bulma dismissed. "Seems like an awful lack of foresight."

She noticed his hands clench, and she couldn't help but be happy for the light-years of distance between them. He'd have months to cool down over her cheeky comments. Of course, Frieza was nothing if not determined, and she was positive he'd begrudge her these comments for a long, long time.

Bulma glanced down at her hands, clenched in the soft fabric of her shirt. "This will be the last time I call you."

His sneer dropped, replaced by a flat expression that Bulma had never seen. Rage, joy, curiosity – she had experienced the whole shebang of evil overlord emotions. He was evil, and Frieza never inhibited his expression of that maliciousness. So Bulma was surprised to see his face so shuttered.

"I'm going to disconnect now," she informed him.

"Bulma."

Bulma paused, her hand reaching for the switch, shocked at the sound of her name. "What?"

"I will find you. I will possess you."

Bulma frowned. "I know."

"You are mine." The words were delivered monotonously, in a flat, bland voice.

"Okay…."

Bulma stared at him blankly, and Frieza stared back.

"You know," she finally said. "If you hurt or kill any one of my friends, you will never find me. You better think carefully about your priorities, because I'd rather die with them than live without them."

"You don't have a choice," he hissed.

"I do. I'm prepared this time. I'd think you'd learn not to underestimate me by now."

Frieza took a step back from the screen, lips sealed, eyes burning with helpless fury. Bulma had the distinctly guilty feeling that he would be releasing his rage on some hapless peon.

"I'll see you soon," Bulma said, and before he could interrupt, she disconnected.

O

They called him Dinner because he liked to eat, and no matter what shift he worked, he always made it to the chow hall in time. After finishing supper, Dinner made his way to the comm room. He stumbled at the entryway, frozen as his mind attempted to comprehend the devastation that was the comm room.

Screens were ripped from the wall, wires sparked from the ceiling and a small fire flickered cheerfully in the corner.

Another guard nudged Dinner's back, sliding past him in the doorway.

"Lord Frieza went on a rampage," he grumbled briefly. "Gotta get this cleaned up 'afore tomorrow."

"W-what?"

The other guard shrugged, shifting through debris with weary resignation. "The human called, got 'im riled up."

"I see that," Dinner said, and moved forward to begin cleaning, trying not to think about the beating he would get when it wasn't ready by the next day.

O

Ki exploded from Goku, and Bulma blinked at the power that flattened the grassy field. It was overwhelming, and amazing that she could even sense it. She straddled her hover bike, and was glad for it, because her knees buckled with the heaviness in the air. The others surrounded her, all warriors, arms crossed over their chests.

The sun shone down with a hopeful brightness as Goku's power let up, the small rocks that had floated up, fell to the ground with a solid thunk.

He turned towards them, a bashful hand scratching the back of his head. "Well, what do you think?"

"That was pretty good, Goku!" Krillin cheered, upbeat.

"Weak," scoffed Piccolo, though admiration peeked through his stern gaze.

"I think we really have a chance," Bulma said, smiling at her old friend.

Goku laughed. "Yeah, well, this time will be different. We're prepared! We can defend Earth!"

Bulma felt her spirits rise with the hope that Goku always seemed to inject in the air. Even after all this time, and death, he retained the youthful innocence from when she had first met him. Bulma shook her head with a snort.

"He should be coming soon," she said, the breeze tickling her curls, and breathing determination into her lungs. She couldn't lose this again. "We need to be vigilant."

Goku puffed his chest out. "I will sense his ki. Don't worry, Bulma, we'll be there to meet him."

Bulma puffed out a breathless laugh. "I believe in you, Goku."

O

Dr. Briefs sat at the table, puffing on a cigarette and reading an old, ripped newspaper. Mrs. Briefs bustled around the kitchen, wiping down the countertops, checking the oven temperature, stirring the soup. Bulma snuck the door open to the kitchen, peeking in curiously.

"Mom's cooking?" she asked, still not completely in the warm room.

Not looking away from his paper, Dr. Briefs replied, "Yes, dear."

"Great!" Bulma exclaimed, fully entering the kitchen to sit at the table next to her father.

The future was uncertain, so she would make the most of it.

O

Frieza's ship entered the atmosphere at 2:58 AM, Central City time. In the Son home, Goku shifted, sighed, then sat up with wide eyes.

"Mmm," Chichi sighed. "Goku…what is it?"

Goku leapt from the small bed, pulling on his gi. "They're here, Chichi. I have to go."

"Who's here?" Chichi sat up, hair a dark, messy halo around her head. She blinked eyes thick with sleep.

"The aliens."

Chichi blinked once more, then sat up. "Goku?"

Goku finished tying his top and paused to gaze at his wife. He padded forward and kissed her gently, savoring her presence before he left to go save the world. Hopefully.

O

Goku arrived before the rest of the group, barely. The others soon followed, circling the dusty valley with grim expressions. Piccolo moved to stand next to Goku, who stared up at the dark, star ridden sky. Their breath steamed in the crisp air.

"No failure, this time," Goku said, not looking at the alien beside him.

"Hn," Piccolo said.

Goku smiled. "I'm glad you're here, Piccolo."

Krillin and Yamcha strode to the other side of Goku, both following the direction of his gaze.

"They'll be here soon," Krillin murmured nervously.

Yamcha frowned, then glanced around the clearing. "Hey, where's Bulma?"

O

Bulma sighed as her alarm went off for the second time. Sunlight was just managing to peek through her dirty windows, and Bulma was not ready for the world yet, so she burrowed deeper into her blankets. The quiet hiss of her door open alerted her to her father's presence.

"Go away," she groaned, waving a limp hand at him.

"I know it's early, dear, but I think it's time for you to get up."

"Mmpf. No."

Dr. Briefs stroked his mustache, staring out the window for a moment. "There's an alarm sounding in the lab, I think it's the atmosphere breech alarm."

There was a heavy silence, then Bulma exploded from her sheets like a thousand-count mummy.

"How long?" Bulma gasped.

"Hmmm," Dr. Brief's deliberated, "about five hours now, I think."

"What?" Bulma shrieked, clawing out of her sheets desperately. "Those idiots! Morons! Ass holes! How could they forget me?"

Bulma sprinted to her closet, stripping out of her pajamas and into shorts and tank top. She had planned the outfit a week ago, wanting a stylish G.I. Jane look for the Frieza encounter. She hadn't banked on Goku and company to forget about her, though.

Dr. Brief's back was to her, but Bulma tugged his elbow so he could face her. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and hugged him tightly. He hugged her back.

"I have to go, dad. I'm going to take the copter."

"Be safe, Bulma."

Bulma pulled away to sprint out; only pausing to yell back, "Tell mom I love her!"

She skidded out the front door, grabbing her backpack on the way out and nearly leaping into the copter. With a vicious turn of the key, she started it up and took to the sky.

O

Frieza was disappointed when they landed. The bear hint of sunrise glimmered on the horizon, a tiny lightening to the sky that spoke of daybreak.

Frieza stepped from his ship, observing the pathetic warriors that surrounded him, yet there was no Bulma.

"I'm looking for a human," he said, his thinly veiled attempt at civility.

"You've got enough here," said one of them, a scruffy, black-haired one.

A malicious smile slithered over Frieza's lips. Behind him, Zarbon stepped forward. Frieza halted him with a lazy wave that said stay back.

"You will fight me?" Frieza asked warmly.

"To the death," the leader said.

Frieza laughed. "Good."

O

Bulma heard the explosions long before she could see them. She cursed at the sharp ridge of low-cut mountains that blocked her path, pushing the copter as fast as it could go, which wasn't very fast. It was only a copter, not a fighter jet. Maybe that would be her next project – her own personal fighter jet.

She crested the ridge just as the sun crested the horizon, a bloody sunrise that blinded. Bulma blinked back the spots in her eyes, surveying the destruction of the valley. Frieza stood on a ridge, laughing raucously at a coughing Goku. Others were laid down – injured, she hoped – on the other side of the field.

Goku zipped forward to punch Frieza, sending the small overlord back into a cliff-face. Frieza snarled and blasted Goku with a bright flash of ki.

Bulma sighed, grabbing the microphone with a vicious snap. She yelled into it with all her might.

"Frieza!"

O

Frieza stilled, distracted from beating the pathetic warrior by the human's voice. His human's voice. Bulma.

It was coming from the flying object over the ridge. She was in there. Frieza leaped, flying straight to her. He didn't notice Goku fly up behind him, until he grabbed his tail.

Frieza snapped back to rip off the hand that was grabbing him, but Goku flung him back against the cliff-face. Again.

"You will pay for that, Earthling," he hissed, sprinting forward to crush Goku. Goku dodged, flipping to land on top of Frieza's ship.

"You've wrought enough terror here," he shouted. "Leave now, and we will not follow."

Frieza laughed mockingly. "Oh, you are an amusing one. Maybe I should keep you." He tapped a clawed finger on his chin thoughtfully. "No, I think I'd rather just kill you."

Frieza leaped forward, but stopped when Bulma shouted, again.

"Frieza, you asshole! Stop it!"

The nerve. Frieza swerved to focus on the copter again. He anticipated Goku, kicking him back into the ground when he followed. In a second, Frieza was peering into the copter, faced with a shocked Bulma clutching a microphone to her chest.

"Found you," he greeted smugly, not giving her a chance to respond. He ripped her from the copter and blasted it with ki. It exploded; bits of flame and melted metal raining to the ground like hellfire.

Frieza didn't pay it much attention, though, as he was too preoccupied with staring at his human's face. She was flushed and flustered, and struggled vainly in his arms hundreds of feet above the ground. He wrapped his tail around her to better secure her, and place his palm against her cheek.

Bulma calmed. Her eyes narrowed.

"I told you I would come," he said possessively.

"Yeah, I know," she snipped, "it's not like I ever argued that."

Maybe Frieza should have been embarrassed to feel so content carrying a soft, weak human in his arms. He could squeeze just a little bit more and break her in half, yet she was so much better alive. Luckily, Frieza was not an overlord for nothing, and noticed the half-hearted ki blast thrown his way. He swerved just enough to the side to avoid it, though Bulma shrieked and pressed against him as it whizzed by.

"What the hell, Goku!" she shouted after regaining her courage.

"Sorry, Bulma!" Goku shouted back, sheepishly.

Bulma scowled at him, then turned to Frieza. "Put me down," she ordered.

Frieza, appreciating her form pressed against him, declined. "No."

"Then that means you can't fight Goku," she replied smugly.

Frieza smiled evilly, then hissed, "I was never fighting him, Bulma. I was killing him."

Her blue, blue, blue eyes widened. "Don't. Don't do this." She didn't care he had used her name willingly. She didn't care about him.

"You have no power over me," her murmured, pressing his face nearly against hers. He thought about her innocent kiss from Namek. Wished she would do it again.

But she didn't because she was too busy being horrified.

"You have such high expectations of me. You always think I am good." He spat the word good like it was the vilest curse he knew. "I've always told you otherwise. I've always told the truth." He leaned closer, his lips brushing against hers. "I am evil, and you cannot change me."

Bulma pulled back, looking hurt and baffled, but unsurprised. "You are so damn stupid," she muttered, then reached into her backpack and pulled out a ki-gun, and blasted him in the chest with it. Frieza shrieked and let her go, pressing hands into his burnt chest.

Bulma dropped, screaming as she plummeted through the air, gaining velocity until she was grabbed roughly by someone, bridal style.

"My hero," she said, looking up at Goku wryly.

He smiled inanely at her, lowering himself to the ground and setting her down gently. "You okay, Bulma?"

Bulma brushed herself off. "I'm fine, Goku. Thanks." She glanced up to the sky, where a very pissed off Frieza floated. "That probably wasn't my best idea."

Goku glanced at her, then looked at Frieza. "I'm not so sure what just happened, Bulma, but maybe you should get out of here."

"I will slaughter you all!" Frieza shrieked. His chest was blackened, but Bulma didn't think the ki-blast had even broken his skin.

Bulma nodded, sprinting away from Goku towards the safest outcropping she could find. The air thrummed with power and rage, so much even she could feel it. She thought she turned fast, but by the time she caught sight of him, Goku was already halfway to Frieza in a flash of golden light. A loud boom announced their collision, and a blur of fists and kicks and ki followed, too fast for Bulma to follow.

For a moment, she thought Goku had the upper hand, but in a flash he was thrown to the ground with a vicious blast. Bulma waited, chest constricting for Goku to reappear, but he didn't. Frieza glided down from the sky, a maniacal grin on his purple lips.

"I love it when they fight back," he mocked, arms crossed.

Bulma burst into action. She emerged from the outcropping to climb up the side. She wanted to be heard. She wanted to be seen. She reached the top, a small platform of stone where she could hold her ground.

Once again, she called his name, and placed the ki-gun against her temple.

"Frieza!"

He paused, his hand glowing with an eerie red light that Bulma knew meant death for Goku. Bulma cocked her gun, the ca-chink echoing across the valley like an avalanche.

"I told you I had a choice," she said, quieter now that she had his attention.

He made to speak, but she interrupted him. In the corner of her eye, Bulma saw Piccolo prone against a slope, Krilin clutching his gasping chest, and Yamcha – Oh, Yamcha, - bloody and broken and staring at her fearfully.

"I have a deal to make," she continued, looking away from them and into Frieza's red eyes.

The red glow in his hand dimmed, almost to nothing. He straightened.

"Continue."

Bulma straightened her back, pressed the cold metal of the ki-gun harder against her temple, and blinked. "I'll come with you willingly. I will be your slave. But you have to leave Earth alone. You cannot kill anyone. You cannot destroy the planet."

Frieza's head cocked, eyes wide and considering. Slowly, like molasses, his sharp teeth showed in a small, victorious smile.

"You accede to me. You submit to me."

Bulma jerked her chin in a nod. "I will."

Frieza's gaze tore from her to sweep over the clearing, then to Goku at his feet. He pulled back his hand, floated away from the crater just enough to bespeak his intentions. He faced her completely now, gliding slowly, slowly, slowly. Not slowly enough.

"You will be mine forever," he promised.

Bulma blinked, willing tears not to burn, and puffed her chest out. "Yes."

He was closer now, only feet away. Bulma's hand holding the ki-gun trembled.

"Do we have a deal?" she asserted, before he could grab her.

No expression could match his, a twisted joy, like all his dreams had come true. "Yes."

Bulma lowered the gun shakily, uncocking it and slipping it back into her backpack. As soon as she released it, Frieza shot forward to grab her. His tail wrapped around her waist, his body pressed against hers, his features invaded her sight.

"I don't deal easily," he informed her.

"We're even," she finally said. He kept Earth ransom from her. She kept her life ransom from him.

In the distance, she could see Yamcha struggling to stand. He was shouting. Goku was trying to stand. She wouldn't give them a chance to influence her. She had already made her decision. For once, she would save them.

"Let's go," she said.

One of Frieza's fingers trailed from her cheekbone to the corner of her mouth, his eyes following its path. Slowly, he moved to press a kiss against her forehead, a mimicry of the one she had given him on Namek. It was too hard to be sweet, too rough to be gentle, but it was something, she supposed.

He pulled away, proud, and pulled her with him to the ship. Zarbon greeted them at the entrance, bowing as Frieza passed. His gaze passed over her impassively.

Bulma turned to take one last glance of Earth, one last look at her friends before the hatch closed, but Zarbon blocked her vision. The tears that she had held at bay for so long burst forth silently, flooding her eyes and streaking her cheeks. She suddenly hated Frieza, for forcing her hand, for being so damn evil.

He glanced back at her and paused, pulling her closer with his tail. He brushed away her tears mechanically.

"So weak," he murmured, before pulling her down the hall.

As they walked, the ship shuddered and hummed back to life, and Bulma felt the real gravity shift to the artificial gravity with an odd flicker. Down barely familiar halls they strode until they reached a barely familiar room.

He pulled her in.

She knew without him saying what he wanted, and padded to the nest of blankets, lying down as he followed suit. He curled his body into hers, and Bulma couldn't hold back the hitching of her breath as the sobs took hold. She closed her eyes, and pretended they had yet to leave Earth.

O

Frieza brushed Bulma's tear stained face after her breath evened, sleep taking her. She was warm and soft, and he couldn't help but feel a little drowsy himself. Stupid Earthling warrior, forcing him to use as much power as he had.

Rage bubbled in his chest, but he quelled it. He had gotten his wish, even if there had been a few loose ends.

Frieza lowered his gaze to his human's pale pink lips. His hand stroked her cheek as he lowered himself to place a small, velvet kiss against her slack mouth.

One day, he would kill her. Until then, she was his, and always would be.

And if there were loose ends, well, he had her now. He could always take care of them later.

She would never know.