Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.

A/N: EDIT 20/2/2012: I originally intended this story to be a very short series of ten drabbles. However, it morphed into a 20-something-chapter B/V 'those three years' fic. Each chapter is based on a challenge prompt from the Livejournal Blue & Black community run by Maddie-san. You can find this community at bulmavegeta (dot) livejournal (dot) com.

This first chapter is based on the prompt 'touch', and covers the scene just after Vegeta blows up the GR.

Touch

Just one touch…

She reached out a hand tentatively, pausing as it hovered over the prone form of her houseguest. Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip, and she took in one shaky breath.

Just one touch.

But what if he woke up?

She pulled her hand back, and clutched at the hem of her dress. She had to keep her hands occupied, or they'd start doing things. Bad things.

She closed her eyes. Her hands were cold, and he was so warm. She knew this because she had touched his skin for the very first time today. He had almost killed himself, pushing his body and the gravity room to the limit and beyond. Stupid Saiyan.

But her mama's words echoed in her head. That man works so hard.

She bit her bottom lip, her eyes taking in all of him. He was a very handsome man, that Vegeta. But he was so dark. He never looked peaceful. He always looked dangerous.

She was good at hiding her fear. She yelled at him, poked at his armour, crossed her arms and glared at him. He thought of her as annoying, but he needed her scientific skills. She knew she was safe enough.

But something was changing. She had feared for his life today. She had felt relief when he'd pulled himself free of the GR. She felt pity for him now, watching as he lay unconscious, an oxygen mask over his face. He still didn't look peaceful. Every now and then he'd twitch and mutter something. His brows would furrow, and she knew he was having a nightmare.

She wanted to touch him, and not just because he was so warm. She wanted to touch him so that she could protect him from the demons in his mind.

She wanted to touch him, because she suddenly saw him as a person. He wasn't a monster; he was just a man. A very lonely man.

She was lonely too.

Her hand reached out once more, but he shifted, moaning suddenly. She pulled her arm back quickly, watching with worry. "Kakarot," he muttered again, before falling silent.

Her hands were cold. She tucked them under her arms, and leaned forward on the desk. She ignored the fact that Yamcha was still training outside.

She watched Vegeta.