Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Whatever It Takes ❯ Chapter 13

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

AN: These next couple chapters are proving to be quite difficult to write because I am a Bulma and Vegeta fan all the way and Vegeta is my favorite character. Sometimes I like to envision the scene in my mind as I go, or maybe even read it aloud, since it gives me a more realistic view of what's going on and a feel of how I would react were I in a particular character's shoes. It's funny how mood can affect my writing, too- or conversely, how writing can change my mood. Some of my angstiest stuff (try my fic 'Enter Sandman,' for instance, which gave me a creepy feeling to write) wasn't written in my best mood, whereas writing fun parts (such as in chapter seven, where Vegeta tears up the town in Bulma's Ferrari, one of my personal favorite bits) is easy in an upbeat mood. It's not fun trying to write characters you're fond of suffering, unless you excel at writing dark stuff (which I don't). Maybe that's why when I had time to write I put this aside for so long in favor of my fic 'Über Babe,' which is anything but angsty.

This chapter marks a major turning point in the story. I'm sure you've already grasped that it is not a happy one, but I hope you all stick around for the ride. It'll be a bumpy one.

Thanks go to my husband for reading this over for me and catching one glaring error in particular.

Enjoy!


Disclaimer: Dragonball Z was created by Akira Toriyama. It is owned/licensed by Toei, Bird Studios, Shonen Jump, Funimation, and Viz, not me. However, you will see some characters that weren't created by Toriyama-san, and those are my brainchildren. No money was made in the production of this work, more's the pity.


Chapter Thirteen

Vegeta untangled himself from his mate and slid out of the bed. He sighed heavily. His woman had kept him busy all week doing 'fun' things together. If he'd balked, claiming he needed to train, she'd used her feminine charms on him to change his mind. He hadn't made any real physical progress since arriving back on Earth after looking for Goku. He had to jump start his training somehow.

Space. It seemed to him that perhaps space was the answer. He'd made progress training while in space looking for that third-class imbecile. He could do it again.

And he'd be away from her.

Vegeta gazed down at the sleeping woman, hating that his heart ached as he did so. She was beautiful. She was amorous. She was a huge distraction to his training. She'd more than a few times come to 'visit' him in the GR with the promise of pleasure if he'd just take a moment's pause, one that generally turned into him abandoning his training for a good portion of the day as she lured him away to do other things. And, he was embarrassed to admit, just thinking of her as he was now had on more than one occasion made him abandon his training, seek her out, and tear off her clothing before-

He shook his head. He was forced to admit that it would be difficult to leave her to train in space, even though it was definitely his best option at the moment. Would she attempt to get him to stay with promises of new equipment, or perhaps something else she was already very adept at providing? She probably would. He had to go. There was no other option but space.

Bulma rolled onto her side and pulled his pillow up against her, drawing in a deep breath. "Hmmm... Vegeta," she sighed, snuggling into the pillow. She was dreaming of him, that much was evident. When she had amorous dreams, she never turned him down. It would be so easy to climb back into the bed and take her right then and there.

Vegeta shook his head to clear it for the second time. That did it. He had to leave or he'd never make any progress as long as she and her delectable body were nearby. He took a quick shower and got dressed before opening his dresser drawers and pulling out the clothing he'd need for his journey.

He was putting everything into a pile when Bulma awoke. "Hey, Vegeta," she murmured. "What're you doing?

"Packing," he responded.

"I can see that." Bulma sat up in the bed and regarded him with confusion. "But why?"

He paused for a moment and stared at her before continuing on with his task. "I'm going to train in space."

Bulma got out of the bed and slipped on her robe. "But... why do you have to go away? Can't you train here?" she objected.

Her beautiful blue eyes were making this even more difficult than he thought it would be. He encapsulated the pile he'd just created and put the capsule into his pocket. Wordlessly he headed out to the GR, which he knew was well stocked with supplies in the event of an emergency, Bulma on his heels. What was he going to do? Perhaps if he could needle her into an argument, she'd get angry and back off. "The facilities here are inadequate for my needs," he told her curtly, "and you, Woman, are a distraction that I neither need nor want."

Bulma's face blanched. What had just happened? She'd had no idea he felt that way. "B-but... I... Vegeta, I had no idea anything was wrong," she said, astounded by his words. "Why didn't you say anything? You know I would-"

"Don't presume to tell me what I know," he interrupted curtly, further stunning her. "I don't owe you any explanations. Just know that I cannot properly train here any longer and I'm leaving."

"W-will you come back?" Bulma whispered, on the verge of tears.

"I said I need to train, Woman. Don't you think that that means I intend to fight the androids?"

"What about after?" Her voice was barely audible. "Will you come back home, or are you..." she trailed off, her mind dizzy with disbelief. ~What happened? Yesterday we were fine, and today? I don't understand! How did things so drastically change so quickly?~ Her eyes pleaded with him for an answer.

Vegeta looked away, unable to stand the sight of her beautiful blue eyes brimming with tears. He crossed his arms over his chest and said nothing in response.

"I see," she whispered, trying desperately to hold back her tears and completely failing. "I don't understand what happened, but thank you for your honesty. I... I can't sit here and wait if there's nothing to wait for, or even to hope for." She closed her eyes and drew in a ragged breath as tears slid their way down her cheeks. "I don't think I could stand letting my heart be broken again." Her lower lip trembling, she fought against the inevitable sobs she could feel rising in her throat and her face crumpled as she lost the fight for control. "Don't I even deserve an explanation? How can you do this to me? How can you just leave again?" she whispered.

He didn't respond, not trusting his mouth not to say the things he truly wanted to say, things that would deter him from leaving. He didn't look at her for the same reason. He'd never leave if he saw her tears, felt her warm body against his as she flung her arms around him. Instead, he ignored her, cursing the ache in his chest as he did so. She was his beloved mate, mother of his son. As much as it annoyed him to admit it, it hurt him to see her suffer, especially because of him. She would have to get over it.

She... she would, wouldn't she? Why wasn't she angry with him for being selfish? Why wasn't she yelling at him?

"Oh, Vegeta!" Clasping her hands over her face, Bulma stumbled away, running blindly for the house, away from the man she was desperately in love with, away from the man who had just shattered her heart.

***

Vegeta did not dare to look back at her retreating form. ~Kami knows that all I want to do is tear off her clothes, throw her onto the bed and take her over and over again the whole day long. Damn it... I want to kiss her, taste her, caress that body, hear her moans as she writhes beneath me.~ He held in a moan of his own. ~That's why I have to go. I'll never be able to train adequately enough to become a Super Saiyan as long as she is near me.~

He was startled from his thoughts by loud, slow clapping from behind him. Turning, he saw Geta leaning casually against the side of the GR and glaring angrily at him.

"Congratulations, you just drove away the first and only woman who will ever love you," he snapped, his voice thick with sarcasm.

"What the hell is your problem?" Vegeta snapped back.

"My problem? My problem? Oh, only the fact that you continue to hurt my mother and couldn't care less about it, that's all. No biggie."

"I told you already that my dealings with your mother are none of your concern," Vegeta spat back.

"Oh! I see," Geta exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "To you, your relationship is nothing more than dealing with her, is that right?"

"I told you to learn your place. This is none of your business," Vegeta snarled. He didn't need his son lecturing him, especially since he knew nothing of the situation.

"And I told you that my mother's happiness is my business," Geta countered. "And as for learning your place, you could use a lesson or ten yourself."

"Really? Who's going to teach me a lesson on life? You?" Vegeta eyed his son angrily.

Geta regarded his father smugly. "I just might at that. You know damn well that I could mop the floor with your sorry, selfish ass any day of the week, Prince of all Assholes."

Vegeta went red with rage. "Mind your tongue, Boy! How dare you speak to me like this? I do everything I do for a reason, and for the last time, I don't owe you any explanations."

"I beg to differ," Geta replied smoothly, stepping forward a few paces to tower over his father. "After what you did to Mother, a lot of people are going to want explanations. You couldn't have just let her down easy, no, you had to hit below the belt, kick her while she was down, didn't you? Why didn't you slap her while you were at it, just for kicks?"

Vegeta was about to respond when he saw his son turn around abruptly.

Bulma grabbed Geta's shirt, yanking him down to her level and, before his brain could register what was happening, slapped him sharply across the face. "You mean like this?" she shouted, shoving her stunned son back. She lunged forward, finger pointed at him for emphasis. "Don't you ever disrespect your father! Do you understand me?"

"Y-you're defending him? After the way he treated you?" Geta exclaimed in surprise. "But-"

"But, nothing!" Bulma grabbed his arm again, steering him away a safe distance. "This is your father, not some little boy you think you can pick on because 'I'm bigger and stronger than you,' young man. You were right the day you arrived when you said that as your prince he deserves respect, but you haven't been walking the walk, just talking the talk, haven't you?" she hissed quietly. "Being your father makes him even more deserving of your respect, even if you don't agree with him."

Geta let his head hang, ashamed. "Yes, Ma'am, you're right," he murmured. "I apologize for my childish outburst, Father. This is between you and Mother." Unable to look his father in the eye, he leaned down to kiss his mother's cheek and headed toward the house. "I'll go check on the little ones," he offered quietly. After a few paces he stopped and turned, this time facing his father. "Good journey to you, Father." With that, he levitated up and flew to the house.

Bulma and Vegeta stood in awkward silence before she spoke. "I'm sorry about that," she apologized. "What a rotten mother I must have been." She stared down at her shoes.

"You are a fine mother," he contradicted her. He paused. "Why did you..."

"Come back out here? I wanted to give you this before you go," she answered, closing her eyes and inhaled deeply. ~I will not break down again.~ She held out a capsule. "Just a little something I've been tinkering with. It's not quite finished, but I thought maybe you might find it useful."

Vegeta stared at the capsule for a few seconds before taking it from her hand, suppressing a shudder as his fingertips brushed the smooth skin of her palm. He nodded, as close to a thanks as he was able to allow at the moment, and dropped the capsule in his pocket.

"Well, uhm, have a safe trip, Vegeta," Bulma told him softly, but her voice wavered. "I... I just wanted you to know that I believe in you. I always have."

He looked up at her. She looked tired and worn down, but just as beautiful as ever. "Believe in me?"

She nodded. "I know you'll reach your goal. It was never a question of if you would, just when it would happen." She turned to leave but stopped suddenly. "I also wanted you to know that… that no matter what happens to us both, I'll never stop loving you, Vegeta." She leaned in and kissed him quickly, choking out a whispered goodbye. Before he could see her tears again, she turned and ran to the house.

***

Vegeta collapsed onto his bed, completely exhausted. The grueling training regimen he was putting himself through was having little if any effect and he was growing more and more frustrated each day. He'd almost lost track of time as each hour of each day blended into the next on the small uninhabited planet on which he'd found to train.

Still breathing heavily, he slapped the back of one hand over his eyes, shielding them from the light shining in from the main area of the capsule. At times like this, although she claimed she couldn't quite understand how quantity made up for quality and not the other way around, Bulma would come in with a cool wash cloth and-

"Stop it, Vegeta," he scolded himself for probably the ten thousandth time since leaving three months earlier. "Why do all of my thoughts keep coming back to her?" he muttered. "We're both better off, aren't we?" He lay silently on the bed. ~Yes, just keep telling yourself that and maybe that will make it true,~ his brain challenged defiantly. Vegeta refused to admit what he knew was true when it came to Bulma and pride came to his rescue. He sat up and swung his feet over the side of the bed, stretching and wincing when something popped in one shoulder.

Rising from the bed, he slipped on a pair of sweatpants and decided to find something to eat. As he padded over to the kitchen area, an object on the floor caught his attention. Leaning over, he discovered it was a capsule, the one Bulma had given him the day he'd left. "It must have fallen out of my pocket," he muttered. Curiosity got the better of him and he took the capsule to the training area to open it, seeing as he had no idea how large the object was inside.

The capsule opened with a puff of what he referred to as 'smoke' to reveal a zippered bag with a reinforced metal hanger on one end. "What the devil is this?" Picking up the bag, he discovered that it was actually rather heavy and took it back to the sleeping area, laying it on the bed. As he reached for the zipper pull, he noticed some writing on the bag. Upon further inspection, he recognized the symbols that he knew meant his name. "I should have learned to read and write this stupid Earth language," he muttered, pulling down the zipper. "Not that it matters… anymore…" He trailed off, speechless, as he pulled a near duplicate of the royal armor of the House of Vegeta from the bag. It was almost exact, right down to the royal insignia and colors she'd used. His shoulders slumped forward. The time and care she had put into the intricate details of the armor was evident, not to mention the extreme amount of research she'd obviously spent many hours conducting. "No wonder she was staring into that scouter for hours on end."

No matter what happens to us both, I'll never stop loving you, Vegeta.

"I'm an idiot. An honest to goodness flaming idiot." Vegeta let the armor drop onto the bed and ran a hand down his face in despair. "Damn it… Geta was right. What have I done? Why didn't I just tell her…" He sighed. "I should have just told her the truth."

Not feeling hungry anymore, Vegeta decided to try the armor she'd created. She had indirectly hinted that she was hoping he would, and that he'd like it. He changed back into his spandex suit and slipped the heavy breastplate over his head, pleased to find that it fit perfectly. The weight of it was evenly distributed and he could move easily in it, something his royal armor as a child had been lacking. Upon further inspection, he found that she had even included a new pair of white gold-tipped boots made of some sort of heavy-duty yet flexible compound she must have created based on remnants of his old armor. He slipped them on as well, shaking his head. "They fit like a glove," he muttered. He paused. Surely she hadn't... yes, she had. A pair of pristine white gloves lay at the bottom of the bag. He was tough on his gloves and she knew it. These, however, were made of a thinner version of the same stuff she'd used for the boots.

Feeling rather humbled, he didn't know what to say, what to think. She had precious little time to herself, even less after she'd given birth to their son, and she'd obviously spent the lion's share of it to selflessly and lovingly create something not only both useful and durable but intended to invoke a healthy feeling of pride for the race of the wearer- him.

He felt more ashamed of himself right then and there than any time he actually ever had before. He had done Bulma a favor by letting her go. She deserved better.

Better than what? Than the way he'd treated her? Or was it better than he himself?

He exited the capsule and stared out into the endless void of space, out into the direction of the woman he simply could not keep thoughts of and feelings for out of his mind. He sighed. Even though he didn't expect that she would want anything to do with him when he returned, he found himself wishing with every fiber of his being that he could hold her, kiss her, feel her soft, warm body pressed close against his as he made love to her just one last time before she was forever gone from his life.

He also regretted the loss of his son. His son. Something he never thought would be possible after the destruction of his home planet. This child was his blood, his heir, and he had effectively turned his back on the babe as well when he left its mother.

How much he had lost for the sake of foolish pride.

Angry at himself now, he worked himself into a frenzy, attempting to banish thoughts of her from his mind, but nothing worked. The only thing his deliberate self-abuse resulted in was physical pain and trauma. ~It's nothing less than I deserve,~ he thought bitterly.

He had intended to continue training when he detected a notable change in the atmosphere of the small planet. A creepy chill crept up his spine as glittering particles of space dust entered the atmosphere behind him, grating across his exposed skin and armor and leaving small surface cuts in their wake. He turned to look behind him and gaped in horror at what he saw.

It wasn't space dust.

It was particles of a rapidly approaching asteroid, the largest one he'd ever seen, and it was currently heading straight for him.

~This is for the better. I won't be plagued with my loss any longer and Bulma will be able to get on with her life with me gone.~ He sank to his knees in defeat and closed his eyes in expectation of his impending death.

A fist-sized fragment of the rock pelted his chest, momentarily stunning him as the force of it drove the breath from his lungs. Blood dripped from his lips as he dropped to all fours and opened his eyes, noting the large, jagged piece of shimmery space rock and the good-sized dent its impact had left in the breastplate he wore. "I'll be damned... if I hadn't changed into this armor Bulma made, I'd be a goner right now," he muttered.

He was about to chuckle at the irony of his words when a thought forced its way inside his mind.

~Just one more time before I die.~

"No!" he screamed, forcing himself rather unsteadily to his feet. It was hard to breathe; the air was full of sharp fragments of the asteroid, and from the excruciating pain in his chest he had no doubt that his sternum and several ribs were crushed. The asteroid was getting closer. Even if he got into his ship and left right now, he'd never be able to escape it. "No! Bulma!"

***

A loud crash from outside shook the house, terrifying its occupants. :Geta!: Anya's mind screamed out to her husband's. :Geta?: She scooped up the two small children she'd been reading a bedtime story to and held them close.

:Shh, Anya. It's all right,: came the soothing response. :You'll never believe it. Father's capsule just landed! He came back!:

Anya winced. :Oh, boy... this isn't going to be very pretty when Bulma gets back, is it?:

:I seriously doubt it. She could be back any time soon, so I'd better fill Father in on the gruesome details before he finds out the ugly way.: She could sense Geta's mental sigh. :You should stay indoors and take care of the kids. Father certainly won't want an audience to his reaction to this.:

:I will,: she agreed. :But keep in mind, Sweetheart, that while I know you're hurt, what you've got to tell him will crush him. You know in your heart that he didn't mean what he said to your mother.:

:You're right,: Geta agreed. :Don't worry, An. I'll try to put it to him as easily as possible.:

:I love you,: came her mental response. She could feel his smile.

:I love you too, Baby. I love you, too.:

***

Geta peered inside the capsule door as it slowly opened. "Father?" he called hesitantly.

Vegeta walked out of the door and straight past his son without so much as a hello. "Where is your mother? I must speak with her immediately."

Geta bit his lip. "Well, ah, she isn't here right now," he informed his father. He decided to just be out with it instead of making Vegeta ask a list of questions which would only serve to annoy him. He obviously wanted answers now. "She's... she's on a date, actually." He cringed as Vegeta stopped dead in his tracks.

"On a date?" Vegeta repeated hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure he actually wanted confirmation.

"Yes," Geta began slowly, "like I told you how I asked Anya out. On a date, remember?"

He watched as the muscles of his father's shoulders tensed up. "Explain," Vegeta demanded. "What do you mean that she's on a date?"

Geta crossed his arms and sighed. "All right, Father. I'm going to put it to you straight. No sugar coating the facts. When it became common knowledge that she was back on the market-"

"Back on the market?"

"You know, available? Single? Unattached?" Geta responded. Vegeta turned to face him and opened his mouth to reply when Geta interrupted him. "Honestly, what the hell did you expect, Father? Mother asked you straight out whether or not you were coming home, back to her life. When you didn't respond, of course she took it as a rejection of her.

"She cried and cried for weeks, Father. It got to the point where I couldn't stand walking into a room and seeing her burst out in tears, or almost, anyway, because at first glance she'd think of you. She overheard me asking Anya if she'd help me cut my hair short and freaked out, telling me I had better not do anything to my, quote," he wriggled the index and middle fingers of both hands, " 'beautiful hair.' Her words, not mine. I tied it back under a hat for a while until she told me quietly that I didn't need to do that. At least after that she didn't get that sad look so often anymore. Finally, it went away completely. But it almost got to the point that I just couldn't do it anymore."

Vegeta tried to speak but found himself uncharacteristically lost for words.

"It would have grown back," Geta assured him. My hair actually grows pretty quickly. I think a buzz cut would have looked pretty damn good with the beard, don't you?"

Vegeta still didn't know what to say. "I suppose so," he agreed with a small shrug, unable to visualize Geta minus the hair. He looked back to his son as he redirected the conversation back to its original topic. "So, about Bulma," he hinted softly.

Geta could hear the hurt in Vegeta's voice despite the fact that he was trying to sound casual about it. "Well, when it got out that Mother was no longer seeing her current boyfriend, it was like the eligible bachelor floodgates were opened. Men came out of the woodwork like you wouldn't believe wanting to date Mother.

"At first she turned them all down while she was still getting over you." He eyed his father. "I told you I wasn't going to sugar coat anything, Father. This is your fault, not mine."

"Just get on with it," Vegeta growled, but it lacked the usual ferocity.

Geta sighed inwardly. "After a few weeks, she finally said okay to a couple of them but none of them ever got past one, maybe two dates." He smirked at the thought. "I think one of them I actually scared away. I guess he didn't like the insane seven-foot plus guy baring his fangs and snarling at him while threatening to feed him his privates if he dared touch his heh, 'sister' inappropriately, hehee..." He chuckled at the smug look of satisfaction on Vegeta's face. "Oh, was she mad at me until Chi-Chi mentioned what a jerk the guy was later. She got over it.

"Then one of them who had known her pretty well from college came here on business and met up with her. When he found out why she so sad he used his common ground with her as a way to cheer her up. Hmph." Geta leaned against the capsule, arms crossed and looking disgusted. "When he asked her to dinner, Mother said she'd had enough of men, no thanks. But he was persistent and she finally said yes." He craned his neck closer to his father. "Sounds like something that just might work, hmm?" He raised an eyebrow. "Worked for me, anyway."

"So, what exactly are you saying?" Vegeta asked slowly.

"I'm saying, Father," Geta continued in annoyance that his father was in such denial, "that she took the bait, and that this is their sixth date in less than three weeks. He's even been over here for drinks. Oh, yes, you're right to look concerned. You know that Mother hasn't been indulging in much personal time lately, and-"

"I totally screwed up, Geta," Vegeta blurted out, eyes tightly shut and his face twisted in pain.

"No kidding. You think so?" Geta responded sarcastically.

"This isn't the time, Son!" Vegeta countered. "I don't know what I was thinking when I left that day. I know I could have just told her, 'look, I need to train extensively for a while and Earth isn't the right place for it,' but I didn't!" He turned away, hands clenched into tight fists and his head hanging down. "I told her she was a distraction and that was true, but it was only because... because..."

"Because your feelings for her are so strong, aren't they?"

Vegeta didn't respond, but the slump of his shoulders spoke volumes.

"Father, this thing with Mother and this Hiroshi guy is serious," Geta informed his father. "I know, not only because of the number of times they've gone out, but because she comes home beaming and smelling like Old Spice."

Vegeta's head snapped up. "You mean she's... they're..."

The look in his father's eyes made Geta's heart wrench. "No, as far as I can tell, not yet. But it's getting too close for comfort for me. I don't like him, not one bit, and it doesn't have anything to do with yours and Mother's split," he responded. "There's just something about him that rubs me the wrong way. The worst thing is that I told Mother I could sense something off about the guy and she got angry and defensive, saying that just because you decided to leave doesn't mean she shouldn't be happy, and if I couldn't be happy for her to just back off. Ouch."

Vegeta felt sick to his stomach. "All I could think about while I was gone was her," Vegeta whispered in admission. "I couldn't get her out of my head. I guess I thought if she was angry at me, it would be easier to leave, easier to stay away. Obviously, I was wrong." He raised his eyes to meet his son's. "I... I don't know."

Instead of berating his father for refusing to let go of his pride and admit what was obviously true, Geta decided to pity him. He'd never seen his father this way. His eyes spoke unuttered volumes of pain, longing, and regret. "You love her, don't you?" he asked softly.

"I... I don't know what love is, Son," Vegeta said in a low voice. "I don't know how to answer."

"She's the most important thing in your life, the only thing that actually matters, and you're a better man for it. She erases all of those little insecurities you battle every day and night, and you don't even notice them anymore after a while. When her eyes meet yours, she makes you feel like the greatest man in the universe, but those same eyes can make you feel pain, render you weak and helpless as a baby. Just knowing that she is yours, that she belongs to you, and especially knowing that she wants you and only you as her own, gives you a feeling of pride and achievement, and you need nothing more. She is the most beautiful, sensuous and sexy woman you have ever even imagined. You hardly even notice the existence of other women. She makes your heart beat faster, your pulse race, and the desire you feel for her is far more than mere lust. When you kiss her, the world and everything else around you disappears. She can make your brain turn to mush with a mere look or touch, and holding her in your arms is something you revel in. Making love to her is the most incredible thing you have ever experienced, and you long for the next opportunity. Just thinking about it, about her, is enough to drive you to madness. She makes your life worth living; in fact, she is your life, the reason you wake up every day. Without her, you're nothing, and there is nothing, nothing worth living for." His face softened. "That's how I feel about my Anya, and I've only just scratched the surface. When I lost her, I wanted to die. The only thing that kept me going was realizing the possibility that I might be able to change things."

Vegeta had broken his son's gaze and was staring down at the ground. He nodded almost imperceptibly. "She's all that and more," he confessed in a tiny voice. "I need her, Son. I... I'd do anything if it meant I could have her back... have her for my mate again. I don't think I can live without her."

~Kami have mercy, he's worse off than I imagined he could ever be. I never expected this from Father of all people.~ The pity that Geta had felt earlier returned in spades at the sight of the proud and powerful Prince of Saiyans reduced to a lovesick, heartbroken shell of a man. "Father," he began softly, "would you really and truly do anything to have Mother back?"

"Anything," Vegeta agreed soberly. "I... I have nothing left. My pride is spent."

~If he's just admitted that he loves Mother and would do anything for her, I've got to do this.~ "I'll support you, Father. But you ought to know, and I won't lie to you, that I do have my own selfish reason for doing this that has nothing to do with either yours and Mother's happiness or preventing VJ from growing up in a broken home," he admitted, noting the shocked look of surprise on Vegeta's face. "So yes, I too have a lot riding on this."

Vegeta's eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly in surprise. "I had thought your reasons would center mainly on the boy, or perhaps your Mother, since you have been so vehemently protective of her welfare," he responded slowly. "What could you want more than that?"

"That is none of your business right here and now," Geta informed him tersely, "suffice to say that I unintentionally changed something I had not wanted to when you left Earth after I told you about the androids. Let me put it to you this way, Father. I remember you treating me and especially Mother like garbage. You did whatever the hell you felt like, without any regard for her feelings. You never even asked how she felt on a matter. If you wanted to leave, you left, and only Kami knew when you'd return. Sometimes you didn't even announce that you were leaving; other times were like the bullcrap you pulled this time. Mother in tears, asking where you were going and when you'd return. That's why I got so indignant that day; it was déjà vu all over again. I didn't like it then and I won't tolerate it now. At least those times you gave some indication that you would come back when you felt like it. Mother was so head over heels in love with you that she waited around for you. Poor woman," he added indignantly. "So, no. This has nothing to do with you, Mother or that little boy in the house. If it did, do you honestly think I would risk it?"

Vegeta actually had the grace to look embarrassed. "I don't know how to respond to that, Son," he admitted in a low voice.

"Well, I do. Don't. You can take advantage of what I just told you and try to make things better for us all, or you can say to hell with it. Your choice. But based on your current situation..."

"It's not even a choice right now," Vegeta retorted, a glimpse of his character showing through his voice. "So... what do I have to do?"

Geta levitated into the evening sky and took a fighting stance. "For now, we fight," he announced. "I'm tired of sparring with my wife and letting her bust my chops because I can't bring myself to belt her in the gut." He grinned sheepishly. "Now get up here so I can kick your ass like you need it."

"Hmph. You're welcome to give it a shot, you loud mouthed punk," Vegeta replied confidently, levitating up himself. "Oh, wait... there's something I wanted to show you first." He settled back down and reentered the capsule.

"What is it, Father? You're not setting me up or anything, are you?" he asked suspiciously, following his father into the capsule.

"No, now come here," he demanded. "You'll find this more than a little interesting, I assure you." He pulled out a capsule and opened it. "Take a look at this. I obviously haven't been able to analyze the chemical composition of this stone to confirm my suspicion, but..." He looked up over his shoulder at his son expectantly.

Geta's eyes got big as saucers. "Great Kami, is this what I think it is?" he exclaimed. Bulma had shown him pictures before she'd died of a very rare stone, one that was cosmic in nature. This particular stone was the remnants of planet Wethion, which had exploded hundreds of years ago, leaving several large pieces hurtling through space. Once in a great while, fragments from one of the pieces would break away due to the gravitational pull of whatever planet it was passing and enter its atmosphere. Since the rock rarely passed Earth, it was an extremely rare occurrence to find a fragment. If this was truly the same type of rock...

"I do believe so, and there's a whole container of capsules just like that one over in the control area. Eleven of them, in fact." Vegeta crossed his arms, smirk in place. "At least your mother's little boyfriend can't claim I'm only a pauper after her money."

"Uhm, no." Geta looked up from his father's discovery in awe. "Actually, you're a rich man. Very, very rich, in fact. Disgustingly, no one should be this rich, rich..."

"Okay, I get the picture." Vegeta pulled one more capsule, the one Bulma had given him, out of his jeans pocket. "But if I had to make a choice between those capsules and this one," he began, tossing Geta the lone capsule, "I'd pick this one. It's far more valuable to me."

"Can I open it?" Geta asked. ~What could possibly be more valuable than a dozen capsules of Wethion?~ When Vegeta nodded his consent, the excited young man pushed the trigger and tossed the capsule down to reveal a heavy zippered bag, which he all but tore open in his haste. Suddenly, his face fell. "It's some beat up armor, Father."

"Not just any armor, Son. Look at it. Your mother created the substance it's made of by studying my old armor's properties and expanding on them. It's a hundred times better, and genuine Saiyan armor is tough stuff." He traced a finger along the edges of the large dent. "How else do you think we Saiyans were able to survive resistance attacks to our vital areas while purging? Or how the armor grew with us when we went Oozaru? The molecular structure of this stuff is amazing."

He went over to the canister he'd mentioned and removed a large, jagged chunk of the Wethion stone from it. "Do you have any concept of what the amount of damage caused by the force of something this sharp and dense being propelled at only Kami knows what velocity would be? Imagine that, hurtling directly into your chest." He indicated the area with one hand. "Your mother's armor stopped this stone from splattering me into a fine, red mist. Even so, I still needed a senzu, because not only were my sternum and several ribs broken, but I had some internal bleeding. I know because I coughed up a lot of blood. Not even my Saiyan armor could have done that."

"Kami," Geta whispered, astonished. "I guess I see why you wanted to talk to Mother so much."

Vegeta shook his head. "I changed my mind. Not a word to her, at least not yet. The armor itself didn't change my attitude, my... my feelings toward her. Of course I'm grateful she gave me it; after all, it saved my life. But I don't need her or anyone else thinking that I am only offering her my gratitude, and wanting her back as my mate is my way of expressing that."

"And?" Geta prompted, interested in his reason.

"When I realized that what I thought was an asteroid this stone came from was headed straight for the planet I was training on and that it would easily pulverize it, I didn't care. I knew I had made a huge mistake. Bulma wouldn't want me around anymore, and who could blame her? I wanted to die, let it all be over. So I just closed my eyes like a coward and waited for the inevitable," Vegeta confessed.

"But then this rock hit you." Geta waited to hear it from his father's own mouth.

Vegeta nodded. "Yes. Realizing that I should have been killed made me think of all of the time and effort she put into creating this armor for me. For me. Even after what I had done, she still wanted me to have it. It made me realize that even if she never wanted to see me again, that I didn't want to die, that I cared about her, that I needed to see her one last time. I needed to hold her, and Kami willing, to... have her just one last time before I died."

Again, Geta had never expected such sentiment from his father, but hid it. "How did you get away?"

"Sheer willpower. It's amazing what you can accomplish when you're in a do or die situation. After the rock blew up, I gathered up some of the fragments," Vegeta explained, dodging the question. "Now, let's go spar."

Geta nodded. "This is fantastic," he exclaimed as they exited the capsule. "What a find!" He paused. "Are you going to give Mother a cut since it is her ship you used to get it?"

Vegeta gave him an annoyed look. "Why the hell should I? If you want to get all technical on me, I'm the one who stuck his neck out, not just to get this stuff, but to field test her armor. I should have died, remember? When she finds out how filthy rich, or richer, she's going to end up over this, hey, maybe she owes me." He shrugged. "Six and one-half dozen, don't you think?"

"I guess so," Geta agreed. "I hadn't thought about it that way."

Vegeta snickered at the look on his son's face, and took on his favorite fighting stance. "You're so easy," he crowed, shooting forward like a rocket and landing a series of punches to Geta's belly, doubling the much larger man over. He backed off, allowing him to regain his breath. "Never look away from your opponent, Son. You know that. And what do I need ugly disputes over money for? As long as I'm able to live comfortably, I get all the training equipment I want, and I get joint custody of Vegeta, if she wants it that much, she's welcome to it."

Geta's eyebrow rose. Two things about his father's statement had caught his attention. One of his father's conditions had been joint custody. Didn't he plan to stick around, as long as Bulma had no objections? ~I guess I wouldn't want to watch Anya with anyone else, either,~ he admitted.

Secondly, Vegeta's voice had had an undeniably sad tone to it.

This time it was Geta who didn't know how to answer. He didn't get the chance anyway as Vegeta renewed his attack.

The two fought for a good half hour or so, neither really managing to get the best of the other. It was quite cold out and growing dark now, and since Geta had trained by himself all afternoon, he was tired and ready to call it quits for the night. It was undeniable that his father's training in space had made a marked improvement to his strength and stamina, however, and Geta wasn't about to toss in the towel and reinflate Vegeta's toned-down ego.

"It's getting late. I'm ending this, Father," he called out.

"Aww, giving up already are we?" came the mocking reply. "I'm disappointed, Son."

Geta's smirk rivaled his father's. "Not hardly, old man!" he retorted. Fists flying with renewed vigor, he took advantage of a tiny break in Vegeta's defenses and kicked him in the gut, hard.

Vegeta landed with a thud and a grunt at the same spot where the tree that Goku had sent him flying into earlier had once stood. "All right, you little punk," he growled, wiping the snow from his clothes, "you asked for it, and I am going to give it to you!"

Geta grinned as his father rocketed for him. "Bring it on. What else do you have up your sleeves that you haven't- Kami!" he shouted, startled by his father's sudden brilliance followed by an uppercut, a roundhouse and a good hard two-fisted hit which sent him racing for the ground. He got to his feet, teetering slightly for a second before shaking it off and gaping at Vegeta, who had touched down nearby. "You didn't say you had ascended!" he shouted accusingly.

Vegeta merely shrugged, his arrogance as evident as the golden aura his body projected. "You didn't ask. Besides, how did you think I had destroyed that asteroid?" His smirk grew wider. "I was simply masking it as you are so fond of doing. You're right, it really is a good idea."

"Smart ass."

"Punk."

***

Bulma unlocked the front door and let herself and Hiroshi in. She was laughing loudly at whatever had just been said. "Oh, Hiroshi," she giggled, you're completely hopeless, you know that?" She draped their coats over a table by the door.

"Only when it comes to you, my sweet," he murmured, putting an arm around her waist and drawing her close. He took her chin with his other hand and kissed her. Relaxing into the kiss, she wrapped her arms around his neck, returning in kind.

She broke the kiss and took his hand. "Let's go get a drink," she suggested, smiling sweetly at him. He didn't disappoint.

"Lead the way, Princess," he replied in a deep voice.

From the den, Vegeta growled lowly. "Princess, hmph." He looked down at the baby on his lap. "If the idiot only knew, huh?" He held the boy up, looking into the little face. "What do you think about that, huh?"

VJ wrinkled his nose. Stuffing one chubby fist in his mouth he promptly drooled down the front of his bib.

Vegeta had to laugh. "I wholeheartedly agree with you. Nasty, isn't it?" He leaned back in the armchair casually, knowing the two were headed to the den and the mini bar that Dr. Briefs, who enjoyed the occasional nightcap while reading, kept stocked there.

Bulma giggled again as she lead Hiroshi into the den. Neither of them noticed the Saiyans sitting nearby the fireplace, for the room was dark otherwise. She suddenly pulled away from him. "Stop that," she insisted, swatting his hands away as he reached over to grab her backside. "I'm not that kind of girl." She had originally meant it as a joke, but the mood in the room was changing rapidly.

"Sure you aren't," he contradicted her, grabbing her around the waist to pull her close again. His hands traveled down her hips.

"Hi-Hiroshi, I'm not sure..." She giggled again, but Vegeta's sharp ears detected the nervous tone behind the laugh. "This is just a little too fast for me." She leaned back, away from his intended kiss. Her hands were on his shoulders, pressing him away. "Hiroshi, I- mmph!"

He broke the kiss and pulled back to look at her. "Aww, come on, Babe. What's the matter?" He scowled. "Don't I compare to your kid's lousy fath-"

"Bulma! Good to see you. You're looking well." She jumped and let out a little shriek at the sound of the deep voice from the other side of the room.

"V-Vegeta?" Bulma stammered, shocked to find him back so unexpectedly. She blushed, mortified that he'd been witness to Hiroshi's behavior and glad for the dim lighting hiding her blush. She thanked Kami for the fact that Vegeta had interrupted the slur about to spew from Hiroshi's mouth, although she knew in the back of her mind that the odds were good that Vegeta had been observant enough to catch it and prudent enough to save her the embarrassment Hiroshi was about to cause. That in itself surprised her; her first guess would have been that Vegeta would attempt to turn her unfortunate date into a punching bag.

"In the flesh," Vegeta responded, his voice not revealing any reaction he might have had. "I apologize for startling you and your friend. I was already in here sitting by the fire with our son when you came in."

"Oh. It's okay," she said, still flustered. "When did you get back?"

"I suppose it was too dark to notice the capsule outside," he answered politely, although if he had his way, he would be using this perverted creep for target practice. ~What kind of person is this she's dating? I can see why Geta doesn't trust this human. No one touches my woman that way...~ The back of his mind reminded him that human mating customs were quite different from Saiyan customs, and she was not his any longer by their standards. She belonged to another male now, despite the mark that he, Vegeta, Prince of Saiyans, had left on her. That was the deepest cut the severance of their relationship had left him. "I only got back a couple of hours ago."

"I see," she responded awkwardly.

Silence permeated the room until Hiroshi spoke up. "I take it that this is your kid's father, Babe?"

~'Your kid's father.' He doesn't even care that my son has a name. And how many times has he called Bulma 'Babe?' This prick has no class whatsoever.~ Vegeta forced out a little chuckle. "That would be me," he made out between clenched teeth. ~Never mind that I already confirmed that earlier. Stupid ass.~ Forcing himself to be civil for Bulma's sake, he gathered up VJ in one arm and extended his other hand out to Hiroshi, ignoring the feeling of distaste the thought of touching this human elicited. "I am Vegeta, Prince of Saiyans," he offered.

Hiroshi turned up his nose at the shorter man. " 'Prince of Saiyans?' Well, aren't we a little full of ourselves tonight," he accused.

"Hiroshi!" Bulma objected, turning pink with embarrassment. ~Oh Kami, please don't let him react badly!~ she begged silently, well aware of how proud Vegeta was of his heritage.

Vegeta blinked at him in surprise. Wasn't this an educated man? Even he himself, a royal, knew to kiss up to people during formal occasions, which would include introductions, even if you did not like the individual. He had learned that lesson the hard way while working for Frieza. He lowered his hand, frowning. "I beg your pardon? Ahh, I see. I've confused you," he responded, a condescending edge to his voice. He preened inwardly upon noticing that he had obviously offended his rival and continued on innocently. "Unlike many of you humans, I do not have what you call a surname. I am of the House of Vegeta and I was born into the title along with the name. I did not bestow it upon myself." His face remained emotionless. "Unless, of course, you would prefer for me to call myself 'Vegeta Briefs,' as is the case with my son." He put his free hand over the baby's side in what could almost be described as protectiveness.

Bulma promptly went from pink to beet red. In her upset, when relating her son's father to Hiroshi, she had unwisely revealed some of his less dignified personality traits, including his haughty pride. "Kami, where are my manners? Vegeta, may I present Hiroshi Takashita. He's the Senior Vice President of one of the companies we just signed a contract with." The underlying statement portrayed in her voice clearly demanded cooperation from both men.

The two grudgingly shared a handshake, but before it could even be done properly, Hiroshi yanked his hand away. "Oh, that is disgusting," he complained loudly, waving his hand in the air as if to rid it of something foul.

"Vegeta," Vegeta mock scolded his son, "that's icky." He chuckled heartily. "Sorry, baby drool. I guess I didn't notice when it got on my hand." In truth, Vegeta had covertly wiped his hand over the teething baby's lip just before extending it the second time. Bulma had noticed, but Hiroshi had not. "You need to be more careful where you drip, Son." He smiled cheerlessly at the pair standing before him. "I suppose I should go give him a bath before he's up all night. Such a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Shakatia." He nodded and left the room. "Or was that 'Shiitake?' No, wait. That's a mushroom, isn't it? Tashataki? No, that's not it either..." His voice trailed off as he walked down the hall.

Hiroshi fumed with rage. "I have never been so insulted in my life!" he seethed, fists clenched and face red. "How could you just stand there and let him behave so contemptuously toward me?"

"Hey!" Bulma objected, insulted. "You can't deny that you deliberately offended him on several occasions, Hiroshi. I could tell he was doing his best to be polite to you and the only reason he made jabs at you was because you started it!"

Hiroshi sighed. "That is so childish, Bulma. 'You started it,' " he repeated, a mocking tone to his voice. "I don't want to see him again the next time I'm here."

Bulma glared at him. "News flash, Hiroshi. He lives here. You haven't even given him a fair chance. I'll deal with him, okay? I'm not going to kick him out just because you don't like him."

"Why not?" Hiroshi demanded. "He's obviously a loser, Bulma. First he's irresponsible enough to get you in trouble and now he's mooching off of you because he's too much of a lazy bum to get a job like any self-respecting man would do, especially one with a child."

Bulma's jaw dropped. "I can't believe what I'm hearing," she exclaimed. "You don't know anything about Vegeta! How can you make such assumptions about someone you don't even know?"

"You said yourself that he walked out on you twice," Hiroshi countered. "Only a pathetic loser would do that to his family. And oh, yes. If he was any decent type of man he would have at least offered to marry you after he knocked you up."

"I think you'd better go now," Bulma growled through tightly clenched teeth. "I can't believe you're acting this way."

"Don't worry, Baby. You'll see his true colors soon enough." He kissed her on the cheek and headed for the door. "You've already had a glimpse of them. I'm sure you'll see even more." The door shut behind him.

"Oooh! The nerve of that man!" she muttered on her way up the stairs. She had intended to check on the baby when she heard water trickling in the bathroom. The door was partly open, so she peered inside.

Vegeta had their son in the sink and was dribbling water over the baby's head with one hand, carefully rinsing baby shampoo out of his hair. /If you don't quit squirming, young one, you're going to get soap in your eyes,/ his voice rumbled softly in a tongue that Bulma did not understand. He couldn't help but smile at his son, who had smiled broadly at him and patted his wet little hands at his father's face while making happy little cooing noises. /We wouldn't want that to happen, would we?/ "Bulma, instead of standing there peeking in on us, why don't you help hold him still so he doesn't get soap in his eyes?" he suggested in the same soft voice, switching back to Standard.

She opened the door enough to get through and held the squirming baby upright in the sink, holding a hand above his eyes. "That was Saiyan you were speaking just now, wasn't it?"

Vegeta nodded and dribbled more water over the baby. "Yes," he confirmed. "The child should know the language of his heritage." He finished rinsing their son and held a soft towel open for her to place the baby upon.

"I agree with you," she commented, lifting the still squirming baby from the sink and depositing him into Vegeta's waiting arms. She was just about to say something else when he beat her to it.

"That man insulted my son," he snapped bitterly, "our son, Bulma. And before you become angry over my justified indignation, remember that you just now agreed with me that our son's heritage is important."

"Vegeta, he didn't mean-"

"Let me finish," Vegeta interrupted. "It was evident before he even spoke a word to me that he hates me. Is that because he has been related unflattering stories about me? That he views me as a threat? Or is it because he hates anyone he considers below himself?" He scowled, gently drying the baby off. "What will I find the next time I take my attention away from this boy? His tail missing, perhaps?" He dried his son off and carried him into the nursery in a very possessive manner.

Bulma gasped at the very idea of it, then scowled. At the time, she'd been too shocked by his sudden appearance to be angry, but her anger quickly returned. "Oh, give me a break, Vegeta," she snapped as she followed him to the nursery. "Why on Earth would Hiroshi want to harm a defenseless baby?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Vegeta countered as he laid their son onto the changing table, where he began to diaper and dress him. "He doesn't even know 'your kid's' name, Bulma. He's known me for all of five minutes, and as I have already said, he already hates me, the boy's father. Why wouldn't he hate my son also? Perhaps he would consider it to be a favor, so the boy will be a tailless freak instead of just a freak."

"Vegeta, you're overreacting!" Bulma shouted. "Hiroshi isn't going to hurt anyone, much less my son!"

"Oh, you keep telling yourself that, Bulma," Vegeta retorted. "I saw the way he disrespected you, groping you so shamelessly despite your objections. What makes you think he won't strike you as well?" He situated VJ in his crib and left the nursery, shutting the door behind them.

"You think Hiroshi disrespected me?" Bulma asked incredulously. "You've got a lot of nerve, you jerk! After what you did to me, you should be glad that I don't throw you out on your ass right here and now!" She scowled at him in anger.

***

Dr. Briefs lowered his window as the car pulled up the driveway. "Bunny, look!"

"What is it, Dear?" Mrs. Briefs asked, peering out her own window. She could just see the object in question past the side of the house. "Oh! Is that Vegeta's space ship?"

"Yes, it is." Dr. Briefs sighed. "I do hope someone managed to speak to him before Bulma returned." The porch light was off, indicating that Bulma had indeed returned from her date.

Mrs. Briefs clasped her hands together anxiously. "He'll be upset, the poor dear," she murmured quietly. "I know he loves Bulma. I just don't understand what happened between them."

"I mean to find out, Bunny." Dr. Briefs parked the car, glad that he had decided to drive himself instead of calling one of their drivers. No one else needed to see what would inevitably happen between his stubborn daughter and her equally stubborn ex-boyfriend.

"Oh! Shatsu, it's raining," Mrs. Briefs told her husband as she exited the vehicle.

"I'm hurrying." Dr. Briefs encapsulated the vehicle and hurried inside with his wife.

As they entered the house they could plainly hear shouting. Exchanging a glance, both quickly headed for the stairs.

"Oh, I get it. Just because you decided to come back here, now I'm supposed to give someone who actually cares about my feelings and opinion the boot and welcome you back with open arms? I've given you far too many concessions already! You must be joking!"

"I never expected that, Bulma."

His voice took her by surprise. He hadn't yelled; in fact, it was hardly more than a murmur. "All right, then why did you come back here, if you don't want anything to do with me?"

He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. "I didn't say that, either."

"Then what the hell do you want, Vegeta? Why would you come back here? Was there something else equally hurtful and offensive you left out before you walked out on me that you felt you needed to add?" Bulma shouted indignantly.

Vegeta sighed again. Every word was like the twist of a knife in his heart. But he didn't deserve any better. "If it means anything at all, Bulma, I'm sorry that I-"

"Save it," Bulma interrupted, holding up a hand. "You're sorry. Nice. Is that supposed to help your cause or something? Did you expect me to think that you meant it, and even if you did, that it would change anything?" she spat sarcastically.

Vegeta recoiled as if he'd been struck. "I did mean it, Bulma, and I am sorry. I didn't mean what I said the day I left. I was stupid and prideful and I made a mistake, a huge mistake." He stopped before his voice betrayed him, very close to breaking down. He hadn't been this emotionally affected since Namek.

Since Frieza killed him. Since he died.

This was far worse than dying, because he still had to deal with the pain of his loss. The guilt and loss he'd experienced from being unable to both prevent the destruction of his entire race and to avenge it was like a drop in a bucket next to this.

"You're absolutely right," Bulma told him in a quiet voice. "It was a mistake." Her eyes were cold as they fixed on his. "There's an expression here, Vegeta, which you might have heard. 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.' Well, there isn't going to be any 'shame on me' this time, because I learned from my first mistake. I'm not going to repeat it."

The icy resolution to her voice chilled him to the bone. He knew what she meant- letting him back into her life after he'd left the first time had been a mistake. She wouldn't do it again. There was nothing left in her heart for him. He'd destroyed the absolute love and devotion that she'd once felt for him. He hadn't realized how truly he treasured it, treasured her, until this day. If love was even remotely as Geta had depicted, then Vegeta knew now that the unnamed feeling he'd long had for Bulma was love, a deep, intense love that he couldn't begin to describe. She'd felt that way too, for a while. And he'd thrown it away.

He couldn't believe he'd thrown her away, all for the sake of his pride. His damned foolish pride.

What could he say in response to her? He felt like a wilting plant, every bit of life having been sucked out of him, with nothing left but an empty shell of what once was.

Before anything else could be said, a throat clearing broke the painful silence, and both Bulma and Vegeta turned their heads toward the source of it.

There, at the top of the stairs, stood Dr. Briefs, his wife a stair below him.

"Daddy," Bulma whispered.

Vegeta's eyes widened momentarily when he saw the man he'd actually come to respect looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Unable to face him, since the older man couldn't possibly hold better feelings about him than his daughter did, he dropped his eyes downward.

"I see you're back, Vegeta." Dr. Briefs noted that the young man standing before him actually looked ashamed and very disheartened. He'd seen the look in Vegeta's eyes when the meaning of Bulma's words had sunk in. The very life in his eyes had faded, as if someone had pulled his plug, so to speak, hurt realization taking its place. The doctor himself had been hurt and confused about Vegeta's treatment of his daughter and had pondered for quite some time as to why Vegeta had done what he had, what had driven him to do it, given the recollection of how tenderly he'd seen the prince touch and kiss Bulma on more occasions than Vegeta was probably aware of. But that look, the downtrodden, hopeless, and distraught look of hurt and despair in Vegeta's eyes had only confirmed the suspicions shared by he and his wife: Vegeta did indeed care for and even love their daughter. Dr. Briefs privately suspected that Vegeta hadn't known how to express that without feeling like less of a man. Instead, he'd done what he did know how to do, and that was to hurt her, in the hopes that she would shrink back instead of questioning his motives. Unfortunately for him, it hadn't exactly worked out as planned.

It was all too obvious. The man was ashamed, hurt and embarrassed; why else would he refuse to look at him? The only acknowledgement he gave was a tiny nod of his head.

"The ship was fine?"

Vegeta did look up then, shocked astonishment evident on his face. "Y-yes, I... it was... it was fine," he stammered uncharacteristically. Why was Bulma's father being cordial to him? Was he not going to throw him out?

"Good, good. Glad to hear it," Dr. Briefs responded.

"Daddy, what the hell are you doing?" Bulma all but screamed. "Have you already forgotten-"

"I remember a great number of things, young lady," Dr. Briefs interrupted in a voice louder and firmer than his surprised daughter ever remembered hearing him use. "One of them is that yes, you are hurt and angry and understandably so," he told her, making Vegeta's gaze drop back down, "and another is that we are not alone in this house. I don't think that Geta and his wife and son need to hear you two bickering, and neither does VJ."

Vegeta's head immediately turned to the nursery door. It was quiet inside, but that was no indication that the child inside was happily content. The feelings Vegeta was picking up were, in actuality, quite the opposite. He rushed past Bulma to the door and put his hand on the knob.

"Excuse me?" Bulma growled irritably. "Could you possibly be any less considerate today?"

Vegeta frowned, but it wasn't an angry frown. It was one of concern as he held a finger in front of his lips. "Shhh..."

"Don't you shush me, you overgrown gorilla," Bulma snapped, offended.

Presently the mood in the nursery changed from nervous to frightened and the baby began to cry.

Vegeta sighed. "Bulma-"

"Now look what you've done! Get out of my way!" she demanded.

Vegeta could see that it wasn't simply anger at him that was making her act this way. She was stressed and tired and genuinely concerned for the welfare of her son. "Bulma, please," he murmured in a low voice. "You told me once that I was most likely projecting feelings that our son did not like, and you were right. Now is the time for both of us to calm down, because all I sense from him now is confusion and fear."

"So stop scaring him," Bulma insisted.

Vegeta sighed still again, fighting to keep his composure. This was not Bulma, his Bulma. This was the Bulma who was infatuated with that insolent Hiroshi creature who had offended him earlier. He had to remember that, and he had to be strong.

He had to keep himself from breaking down, because he was painfully aware that he wasn't far from it; may the gods curse his very existence if he lost the fight here and now.

"Look, I am trying to be civil," Vegeta murmured, well aware that Bulma's parents were still there, witnessing the entire ugly debacle they were presenting. "For once in my life I am really, truly trying, Bulma. Please, do not do this." His expression pleaded with her.

She almost blinked in surprise. There was only one other time when Vegeta had pleaded with her, and that had been when he'd been concerned with keeping her safe from Frieza. Vegeta didn't plead. No. It was a lie. He didn't really care. He had promised to take care of her and VJ, to protect them. Instead, he'd walked out on them twice. "I need to get to my baby," she told him emotionlessly, pushing past him and entering the nursery.

Vegeta stepped aside and let her by. There was nothing left to do. She wasn't going to talk to him. He honestly didn't blame her and hadn't expected anything other than hurt and anger from his mate.

A sharp pain lanced through him at the thought. His mate. Had she cast him off him completely, or, gods willing, would she eventually tell him that she truly would continue to be his mate? He'd do anything, whatever she demanded, to make even the tiniest glimmer of hope a reality. He knew he'd hurt her deeply, but the woman had no concept of what she was doing. He would never have another; he had pledged his life to her and only her. It was the Saiyan way. According to the human way, if it didn't work out, well, simply be rid of one's mate and select a new one. He had seen it often enough on the television and in the gossip magazines.

But it wasn't that simple. Even if it hadn't been the Saiyan way to mate for life, he didn't desire another woman. He only wanted and needed her. He would die lonely and abstinent without her.

His head swam with the sea of thoughts flooding through it. He would go insane if he didn't get his mind in check. He watched as his former mate went into the nursery and picked up their son from his crib. "There, there now, don't cry," she cooed, holding the child to her bosom and rocking him gently. "Don't cry..." Bulma turned, and her eyes met Vegeta's. "You're still here?"

Another even sharper pain sliced through Vegeta's heart. "He's my son too, Bulma." With that, he turned and headed for the bedroom he'd once shared with her.

"Don't bother," her voice followed him. "All of your things are in a capsule in the junk bowl."

Vegeta stopped but did not reply. How easily the callous words rolled from her tongue! It may have seemed to be likewise for him from her point of view, but doing what he had done the day he'd left had been one of the most difficult things he'd ever forced himself to do. Gods, why had he hurt her this way? He'd get his things and leave. Her father had been civil to him, but Vegeta knew he could not and would not stay where he was clearly unwelcome. He approached the stairs. Perhaps the older man was simply attempting to maintain some semblance of order in his household, but it hardly mattered anymore. "Excuse me, please," he managed, his voice little more than a whisper. It was killing him to leave, having to listen to his son's cries rapidly turning into screams as he descended the stairs.

Mrs. Briefs had kept silent the whole time, but knew from both prior conversations with her husband and from the very expression on his face that she felt the way he did on the matter. Vegeta had always been dear to her heart, despite obviously being troubled. She'd always been able to tell that Vegeta loved her daughter and cared for his son. Something must have gone wrong for him to leave and hurt Bulma the way he had. It just didn't make sense otherwise! She could see that he was hurting too, not just Bulma. "Vegeta?" she ventured, following him down the stairs. "Vegeta, where are you going?"

Vegeta stopped at the bottom of the stairs when he heard her voice. It held that same nervous note it had when she'd approached him while he was in the tree outside and had spoken to him about Bulma's pregnancy. Another wave of guilt washed over him; he didn't want the woman who'd always so willingly and happily fulfilled his every need to feel uncomfortable around him. "I will collect my things and leave," he told her. "I don't want to be the cause of any more incidents tonight."

Mrs. Briefs frowned sadly. "Oh, Vegeta. No, please don't leave again, not like this," she pleaded. "What would be worse, being determined to make things better, or leaving again like she thinks you will?"

Vegeta's mouth opened and he found himself speechless. Bulma's mother had a point. He hadn't thought of it from that perspective.

"Maybe she doesn't want to talk about things just yet," Mrs. Briefs continued hesitantly. "Just give her some time to calm down and think it over a little, that's all."

There it was again- that flood of emotions pushing against the dam he'd constructed so many years ago. The carefully placed blocks were weakening now even faster than before. Bulma had made him so weak, and now he was paying for it.

Or had she? It was his feelings for Bulma, his love for her that had made him strong, pushed him over the edge, given him the power he'd always dreamt of.

He had to stop this. He really was going to drive himself insane.

"Okay?"

Mrs. Briefs' hand on his arm snapped him back to the here and now.

"I... I don't know. She doesn't want me here," Vegeta murmured.

Mrs. Briefs' face softened. "She won't be any happier if you go," she chided gently. "Trust me."

Vegeta shook his head helplessly.

"Besides, it's December," Mrs. Briefs reminded him. "It's cold and dark and it's freezing rain outside right now. I couldn't in good conscience let you leave right now. You wouldn't want to give this old lady a bad conscience, would you?"

Vegeta gave her a look that was partway between mild amusement and irritation. She had him, damn it, and she knew it. "No, I don't," he acquiesced. "It's just that..."

"Shatsu and I have spoken quite a bit about our feelings on all of this," Mrs. Briefs told him pointedly. "While we're not happy about how you treated Bulma, even a silly old lady like me can see that there's something else bothering you, Dear. In fact..." She trailed off as the kitchen door opened and a very irritated Bulma entered.

"Here, take him," she snapped, thrusting VJ towards Vegeta. "I can't take his screaming any longer."

Vegeta unhesitatingly accepted the child from its mother and held him close. "Hey, what's all of this?" he murmured, turning away slightly so that his contact with the boy could be a little more private. He suddenly remembered something Bulma had said to the child before he'd left; still another title that had been bestowed upon him. "Don't cry, Vegeta. Daddy is sorry for this mess and all of the yelling," he continued, bouncing slightly in an attempt to quiet his son. Bulma had been right- VJ was indeed screaming, not just crying, but screaming. "Please stop now, Son. I'll do my best to fix things, I promise."

The baby whimpered once more before falling silent.

"For the love of Kami," Bulma grumbled. "I hate it when you do that." What she was truly disconcerted about, however, was what Vegeta had said to their son. Usually he spoke what could be considered private things to him in the Saiyan tongue. He hadn't this time. Had he meant for her to hear?

Had he meant what he'd said?

Vegeta was stroking the little back gently as the baby dropped closer and closer toward sleep. His son had grown quite a bit while he was gone, he realized with shame. He'd missed feeling the tiny warm body cuddled up against his own, and the feeling it evoked inside him. It wasn't the same as how he felt for the boy's mother, but it was similar in intensity and he cared for the boy enough that he came to the conclusion that what he felt, too, must be love for his son. Yes, Bulma had explained the difference when she had told him how she could love her friend, her family, her then unborn child. Him...

His son was his family, as were Anya and his grandson. Dare he admit to it, he had grown quite fond of Bulma's parents as well, to the point that he also cared about them.

They were all he had left, he realized, as he held his now sleeping son a little closer. He would treasure them as he should have been doing all along. And, he would continue to treasure her as well, even if she didn't want it. She would soon see that... he... Vegeta held in a sigh. It was more easily said than done as the dam holding back every emotion he'd repressed shifted again. He'd try, he had to try. She had to see.

"Is he asleep?"

Vegeta blinked a few times before turning around. If things kept up the way they were he would lose control for certain. "Yes." He couldn't bring himself to look at Bulma as she retrieved their son from his arms and left the kitchen without another word.

"She still loves you, Vegeta," Mrs. Briefs said softly once she was certain Bulma had gone. "A mother can tell things like that, just as I can tell that you still love her."

Vegeta's face twisted in pain. "Please don't," he whispered. "I cannot... cannot handle it right now."

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Briefs said sincerely. "I only wanted to reassure you, that's all." She gestured toward the table. "Here, sit down and I'll fix you something to eat." She filled a pot with water and put it on the stove to boil before putting on a full-length apron. Tomato sauce certainly could be messy, and she wasn't taking any chances with her new blouse.

Mrs. Briefs was not taking no for an answer, so he sat down at the table, feeling rather awkward as he did so. Bulma didn't want him there, and here was her mother making him food. "I appreciate it, but I don't know if it would be appropriate-"

Mrs. Briefs turned around, wooden spoon in hand. "Now, you listen up, young man," she insisted, waving the spoon in front of his nose for emphasis. "I don't want to hear any more such talk, is that understood? As much as she would like to think it is, this isn't Bulma's house, it's her father's. Don't you think that if Shatsu and I didn't want you here, we would have told you to leave?"

Vegeta didn't know what to say. In fact, he was still confused as to why they hadn't kicked him out. "I suppose so." He summoned up his courage to ask the tiny but powerful million-zeni question. "Why?"

Mrs. Briefs sat down beside him and laid down the spoon. "It's as I said before, Dear. We can both tell that you care a great deal about Bulma and that you didn't mean to hurt her. In fact, I think that you're hurting just as much... Vegeta?"

Vegeta turned his face from her, her words having affected him more than he thought possible as he struggled to maintain control. It seemed that, for the first time since dying at Frieza's hand, he would lose the battle.

Bunny noted his situation and got up from her seat. "Oh, my dear boy, it's not good to keep your feelings bottled up," she told him gently. "You would feel so much better if you could only let yourself let them out." She took his hand and pulled him to his feet.

"I can't... please don't," Vegeta choked out as the older woman put her arms around him, enveloping him in a hug. "I can't..."

"Shhh... Just let it out," she soothed, rubbing his back gently. "It'll be all right, Dear." She continued to rub his back as she heard him take in deep gulps of air, struggling to contain what had clearly become the inevitable. "There's no shame in caring about other people. I care about you, Vegeta, and I want you to feel better." That was all it took, and she found the proud Saiyan prince shaking against her shoulder, his hands fisting onto the fabric of her apron as he clung to her like a lifeline. "That's it, let it out," she whispered, feeling her own eyes tearing up. "Let it out."

Eventually his trembling subsided and he straightened up, withdrawing himself from her grasp. "I'm sorry," he murmured, embarrassed by his behavior. "I'm not myself tonight."

"Vegeta, you've done nothing here to be sorry about," Mrs. Briefs assured him. "Please don't think that there's anything wrong with your tears, because there isn't."

It was then that Vegeta saw that she, too, was crying. "Why are you crying?" he asked in surprise.

"I hurt when the people I care about hurt, Vegeta." Mrs. Briefs gave him a watery smile and offered him a box of tissues. "Now, let's get you some dinner, shall we?"

Vegeta still felt embarrassed about allowing himself to actually cry in front of Mrs. Briefs- or anyone else for that matter- but resumed his seat obediently. He knew that she would be the last person to mock him about it, and oddly enough he trusted that she wouldn't go around talking about it, either. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Dear." Mrs. Briefs dumped a package of pasta into the pot and stirred it. "Is regular meat sauce fine with you, or would you like something else?"

"Meat sauce would be fine," Vegeta assured her.

"See? You feel a little better already, don't you, Dear? Less stressed?"

Vegeta managed a smile. She did, after all, deserve it. He felt empty inside, but at least that was all that was there- emptiness in place of the pain he'd just let out. He would have to learn to deal with the pain he knew would replace it, for he had no intention of a repeat performance. "Yes, thank you."

"It's Bunny, Dear." Mrs. Briefs set a glass of milk in front of him. She could tell that he hadn't been comfortable in situations where anyone else would have addressed her or her husband directly. He'd never tried to before, and it was obvious that his pride had worn down somewhat and that he was making an effort. "Please call us Shatsu and Bunny."

He nodded. "All right. Shatsu and Bunny it is, then." They might have insisted upon Dr. and Mrs. Briefs, and all things considered he would have been fine with that. It was actually a good feeling to know that they wanted him to call them by their first names.

***

Vegeta felt as awkward as a kid at a slumber party who'd forgotten his sleeping bag as Mrs. Briefs pulled some sheets and blankets from the linen closet in the hallway. "Here we are, Dear," she whispered in an attempt to keep from waking anyone else up. "I'll make up a room for you." She selected a room a couple doors down from the nursery and opened the door. "This one will do nicely, and you'll be close to little VJ, too."

~And to Bulma.~ "Yes, I'm sure this room will be just fine," Vegeta agreed. It didn't matter; there was no way he'd be able to sleep that night.

"Oh, but it doesn't have a private bath," Mrs. Briefs mused, disappointment evident in her voice.

"That's not a problem. Don't worry about it," Vegeta assured her as they entered the room. "It just means that I can't walk from the shower to my closet naked anymore."

Mrs. Briefs giggled. "Vegeta, you're so naughty!" she exclaimed gleefully. It was nice to see that Vegeta was trying to be funny during what was obviously a difficult time for him. "Although, who am I to tell you what to do, hmm?"

Now it was Vegeta's turn to be surprised; a devilish smile had crept onto her mouth as she quietly giggled at the expression on his face. "Bunny! Shame on you," he mock chastised, feeling his cheeks flush pink. He shook his head.

She giggled one more time before setting the linens onto the nightstand next to the bed. "I'll just make up the bed for you, Dear, and we can put your things away tomorrow."

"I can do it. You've done enough already," Vegeta told her, but she shooed him away with a wave of her hand.

"It's no problem. I don't mind at all," Mrs. Briefs assured him. She quickly made up the bed. "There are extra toothbrushes in the bathroom under the sink. Did you need anything else before I head off to bed too?"

Vegeta shook his head. "No, I have what I need."

"All right. Good night, Dear." Mrs. Briefs gave him a kiss on the cheek before leaving the bedroom.

Vegeta sat down heavily onto the bed. He'd never felt so empty in his life, and he'd almost always been alone, even when there were people all around him. He sighed. He could either sit up all night and mope about the situation he'd put himself in, or he could attempt to get some sleep in the bed that Mrs. Briefs had so considerately made for him.

He opened the capsule containing everything from his journey onto the bed and stared at its contents. He knew what was in each and every one of those small metal cylinders. One was the few possessions he'd taken with him, clothing and the like. One contained the remaining food he hadn't consumed while in space. An even dozen of them contained what he was nearly positive was a very large quantity of Wethion stone. Just a walnut-sized piece of it would make him a wealthy man. The last capsule contained his prize possession- the now ruined armor that Bulma had made for him. He put the capsules into the nightstand drawer and opened the one he'd retrieved from the kitchen, his heart wrenching as he looked through the boxes of his things it contained in search of something to wear. It was a chilly night, so he pulled on a pair of pajamas, an item of clothing that he'd never bothered to wear before, and slipped beneath the covers.

As he suspected, sleep refused to come. He rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head. It did nothing to rid his mind of the tears she'd shed when he'd left, her angry words when he'd returned, the cold, emotionless eyes she'd looked at him with when she'd uttered those words.

You're absolutely right. It was a mistake.

I'm not going to repeat it.

Sleep was obviously not going to come to him that night, so he got out of bed and stepped out into the hallway. It was quiet and dark save the small night light plugged into an electrical socket on the hallway wall. He figured he might as well brush his teeth after all and entered the bathroom.

What to do when one couldn't sleep in a house that now felt strange and unwelcome to him? Vegeta contemplated going downstairs to the den to watch some television when he heard a small whimper from inside the nursery.

***

Bulma woke up as if on cue and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Yawning, she stretched and got to her feet. "Time to make the doughnuts," she murmured, rubbing at her eyes as she staggered out of her bedroom and toward the nursery. Her son's nightly feeding schedule was practically like clockwork. She didn't even need to hear him cry in order to wake up and nurse him.

She crept into the nursery, not wanting to awaken her grandson, who Anya had put to bed once all the fireworks had ended, and went to the crib on the opposite wall to get her son.

The crib was empty.

Bulma nearly screamed in her panic. Where was her baby? He wasn't walking yet and he'd never gotten out of his crib on his own. What could have happened to him? Who would have... The answer struck her like a freight train.

Vegeta.

She hadn't missed how possessive he'd been of their son that evening. Had he taken VJ and run, just to get back at her, to show her who was in control? Breathing heavily, she rushed out of the nursery and over to Anya and Geta's room. "Geta! Wake up!"

Geta felt himself being shaken and sat up blearily. "Mother? What's wrong?"

"VJ's gone! I went to feed him and he's not in his crib!" she whispered hysterically. "You don't think..."

Geta sat up with a groan. "Father took him? No, he wouldn't do something like that," he assured his mother, who was on the verge of tears. If Vegeta had attempted to run with VJ, it would have gone against everything they had discussed after he'd gotten back. Geta knew that his father loved his mother. No matter how angry she was at him or how hurt he was, he wouldn't hurt her like that, and Geta would have personally hunted him down and fed him to the dogs had he tried. "In fact..." Geta paused. "They're both a couple doors down."

Bulma blinked at him, hysteria forgotten for the moment. "Really? I hadn't even considered..."

Geta sighed. "Mother, do you really think that even if Gram and Gramps were furious at Father, they still would have kicked him out tonight, in the middle of an ice storm in December? Gram would have said, 'eat this and get some sleep, Dear, because I think it would be best if you leave tomorrow before everyone else gets up,' don't you think?"

A weak little chuckle escaped; he'd even gotten the inflection of her mother's voice right. "You're right," she admitted. "Mom would say something like that." Bulma rested a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry to wake you up like this."

"It's okay, Mother. Try to get some sleep, all right?" He patted her hand before rolling over onto his side, pulling Anya close against him.

"This is really bad, isn't it?" Anya's tired voice mumbled after the door shut.

"Yeah." Geta let out a long sigh. Hopefully the night was young, so to speak, and his mother would cool off a little, even if they never got back together again. He frowned. This hadn't been what he'd had in mind when he came here, not at all. Would he ever...

"Honey? I know you loved Trunks and you're afraid for him, but it won't do any good to worry excessively about him and you shouldn't beat yourself up over this. We need to concentrate on first things first, which means helping Pops set things right with Bulma." Anya wriggled back more snugly against her husband. "Not to mention getting rid of that... that absolute jerk she's dating."

Geta snorted. " 'Absolute jerk,' Anya? You're too kind."

"Okay, nasty little prick. How's that?" She yawned. "Let's try to get some more sleep, okay?"

Geta kissed the back of her neck. To anyone in the know listening to their conversation, Anya might have sounded uncaring or maybe even heartless about what she'd said regarding his future brother, but he knew she was right. His father was beating himself up enough about it. He could best concentrate his efforts on helping, not adding to the hurt of the whole situation. "Good night, An."

"Good night, Geta."

Still... Geta had been very fond of his brother, and he'd been devastated when he'd died. Part of what had convinced him to take the trip back in time was the memory of the wise-cracking, lavender-haired boy and all the good times they'd had together, despite being on constant watch for their lives. He drew in a deep breath. His father had to fix this, he just had to.

***

Bulma shut Anya and Geta's bedroom door and scurried down the hall. She poked her head in the first guest bedroom. Empty. Oh! She'd give that man a piece of her mind! If he thought she had been cold to him earlier that night, hoo boy, was he in for a surprise. Bulma opened the next guest room door. She'd chew him up and spit him out...

She paused.

Before her was one of the most precious sights she'd ever seen.

Bulma could feel her anger slowly fading as she took in Vegeta lying asleep on the bed, his arms around their son, who slept peacefully on Vegeta's chest, one tiny thumb halfway in his mouth. It reminded her of when she'd come home from buying some clothes for Geta to find them similarly asleep on the couch. Her heart had melted then and it did so again now. Despite her anger at Vegeta, she just couldn't bring herself to ruin the peaceful scene.

For the first time since she'd met him, Vegeta's face wore not a trace of a scowl while he slept. She couldn't quite explain what she thought that might mean. Why would he look so tranquil now, after such a tumultuous night? She shut the door and made her way back to her room. It didn't matter. She'd deal with Vegeta in the morning.

It never occurred to her that the cold-hearted Prince of Saiyans had learned how to love.

***

Mrs. Briefs hummed cheerfully to herself as she fixed the morning's breakfast. She was determined to think positive. Things would work out eventually. Bulma would listen to what Vegeta had to say. She would see that he really was sorry for what he done to hurt her, and that he loved her. She would see that the distasteful young man she was dating wasn't nice at all, and that Vegeta was a sweet boy. It might take a few days, but she was sure that her daughter would come to her senses and everything would be just fine!

"Good morning, Bunny."

Bunny turned from the stove to greet the first member of the family to come down to the kitchen. "Good morning, Vegeta, Dear!" she sang with a smile. "I'm making pancakes for breakfast today."

Vegeta nodded. "They smell wonderful." He still felt a little at edge, as if he didn't belong there. He knew it would be awkward at best when Bulma came in. Perhaps he could be gone by then, or maybe he should simply skip breakfast entirely. He just wasn't in the best frame of mind to deal with any more of her unbridled hatred this morning.

"They're blueberry, your favorite." Mrs. Briefs poured a cup of coffee and set it down beside him.

"Thank you," he told her politely. He wasn't used to saying things like 'please' and 'thank you,' but found that it wasn't that difficult with someone ready and willing to please him. He'd used to think the woman was annoying. Now, he found himself more comfortable with her than just about anyone in the house.

"You're so welcome, Dear." Mrs. Briefs turned back to the stove. "Oh, my... well, that one's burned..."

Vegeta found himself mildly amused by the irony of her comment; since when was she a bad cook? He dumped large amounts of cream and sugar into his coffee as was his custom and sat in companionable silence with the blonde woman as she cooked, he sipping his coffee, she sipping her tea. Sensing a familiar presence at the kitchen door, he turned as Anya entered the kitchen.

She stood in silence for a moment. "Pops."

He rose from his seat. "Anya."

She walked over to him and again stood in silence. Disappointment colored her face and tears pooled in her eyes. No words of chastisement were needed. Her face was enough.

Vegeta felt wretched. He hated seeing her cry, and he hated being the reason for her tears. "Anya, I-"

"Oh, Pops." Anya flung her arms around him in a hug. /I just don't understand you, you know?/

Vegeta returned the hug a little awkwardly. /If it makes you feel any better, I don't understand myself either,/ he commented.

Anya stepped back and rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. /Why? That's all I want to know, Pops. Why did you do it?/

He dropped his eyes. /I... I didn't know how to go without hurting her. So I.../ Vegeta paused, frowning as he contemplated the absurdity of his statement. /I guess I'm an idiot./

/I'd agree with you, but we both know that's not true,/ Anya contradicted him. /I know it's something deeper that maybe even you aren't sure how to express. I only hope that she understands that, too./

Vegeta swallowed. He prayed that Bulma would speak with him, that she would understand someday. "Something like that."

"Juice, Anya?" Mrs. Briefs set a glass down on the table and poured some juice into it as casually as if nothing had just happened.

Anya smiled gratefully at the blonde woman. Somehow she knew just what to do sometimes. "Thanks, Bunny."

"Of course, Dear. Did you see anyone else up yet?" Mrs. Briefs asked.

"I saw Shatsu go outside and Geta's in the shower. The kids are still asleep and Bulma has company," Anya finished blandly.

"Oh," Mrs. Briefs responded just as blandly. "How nice, I suppose."

Vegeta felt out with his ki. Sure enough, the man who had acted so offensively the night before was there in the front of the house, as was Bulma. He actually found the realization that neither woman liked the man comforting. "Shatsu is approaching," he reported, changing the subject.

"Oh, good." Mrs. Briefs put some more pancakes in the oven to keep warm. "Just in time for breakfast."

"Good morning, everyone," Dr. Briefs greeted as he entered the house through the kitchen door. He slipped off his shoes and hung his coat on a hook by the door. "Goodness, but it's cold outside. The snow may be gone, but everything's still icy."

"Be careful out there, Darling," Mrs. Briefs counseled. "You don't want to slip, especially with your bad knee, you know."

"Yes, Bunny. I'm careful." The doctor kissed his wife on the cheek and commandeered himself a slice of bacon. "So. Are you settled in appropriately, Vegeta?"

Vegeta found himself at a loss for words. It did appear that the older man desired him to stay in his home. "I suppose so," he murmured.

"I put Vegeta in the blue room, Dear," Mrs. Briefs piped up. "I still need to organize his things. I'll have plenty of time today to do that. I really should order new furniture, though, and a new mattress too. That one is so old," she added thoughtfully. "Maybe some lamps and oh! A nice flat screen television set!"

"That's a wonderful idea, Bunny. I'm sure Vegeta can help you pick out something suitable," Dr. Briefs responded. The way he said it didn't leave room for objection on Vegeta's part.

"I know, I'll take him to the Log Cabin," Mrs. Briefs decided. "They have such lovely rustic type furniture there. I'm sure we'll find something less decorative than what's in there now." She smiled at her own cleverness.

As she chattered, Vegeta felt dread closing in on him as he detected Bulma's and Hiroshi's ki heading for the kitchen. He did not need this. He did not want to see that insolent man again. He had no doubt that Hiroshi would be no more pleasant than he was the evening prior. He didn't need another altercation with Bulma. He held his tongue as the kitchen door opened and the two entered.

"Good morning Mom, Daddy, Anya," Bulma called out cheerfully.

Vegeta remained silent when the others returned her greeting. He could practically feel Hiroshi's ugly face smirking at him but refused to give the man the dignity of acknowledging his presence. It was bad enough he had to smell the cretin.

Old Spice, damn. One of the few Earth scents for males that he actually liked and didn't give him an instant headache, and this waste of space has to use it.

"Breakfast is almost ready, Dear," Mrs. Briefs reported. "Why don't you sit down while I finish it up?"

"Thanks, Mom. Listen, I have a meeting this morning and I haven't been able to get in touch with Etsuko." Bulma took a seat at the kitchen table next to Hiroshi, who had sat down and was reading his newspaper. "Do you think you could take him for me?"

"Of course I can take him today," Mrs. Briefs assured her. "I'll take him with me when Vegeta and I go shopping. We're going to buy some furniture. Oh! Did you want me to look for that bookshelf you wanted for your lab, Dear?"

"No, I'd rather pick it out myself," Bulma responded, not acknowledging Vegeta's presence in the slightest. Her son hadn't been returned to his crib until early that morning, presumably when Vegeta awoke. She spied some empty formula bottles in the sink. At least the man had the sense to feed their son.

"All right." Mrs. Briefs poured the last few pancakes. "What are your plans today, Shatsu? I'd like to know when to start dinner."

"I was going to spend a little time in the lab today," Dr. Briefs told her. "I'd also like to run a few diagnostics on the GR, Vegeta. Perhaps you could lend me a hand," he requested. "I saw a few things in there that I'm a little concerned about."

It suddenly struck Vegeta what Dr. Briefs was referring to- all of the blood inside of the capsule. "Oh... right. I meant to clean that up, but I didn't have sufficient supplies left," he murmured uncomfortably.

"What is it, Dear?" Mrs. Briefs asked brightly. "Is it something I could help you with?"

"It appears to be some blood, Bunny," Dr. Briefs spoke up before Vegeta could respond. As he'd anticipated, his daughter shifted ever so slightly in her seat, although she said nothing.

"Oh my, blood?" Mrs. Briefs exclaimed worriedly. "Are you all right, Vegeta?"

Vegeta hadn't wanted the information the doctor had supplied to be mentioned in front of the others, but what was done was done. "It's all right," he assured her hesitantly. "I just had a little accident while I was in space, that's all."

"But..."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it," Dr. Briefs told his wife. ~A little accident? It looks like a bloodbath in those sleeping quarters.~

"All right, Dear," Mrs. Briefs conceded, but they could tell she was still going to worry about it. "Just let me know if I can help."

Dr. Briefs nodded. "Vegeta, let's wander over to the GR for a moment, shall we?"

"Sure," Vegeta agreed slowly. He waited as Dr. Briefs shrugged on his coat.

"Why don't we grab your coat, Vegeta? It's in the hall closet."

"No, I'll be fine. I'll keep warm with my ki," Vegeta told him.

"All right," the doctor said a little skeptically. It was the dead of winter, but if the boy said he didn't need a coat, then who was he to argue? He put a couple pancakes on a plate and took it with him as they left the house.

No sooner had the door shut did the insults start. "You haven't kicked him out on his ass yet?" Hiroshi stated the obvious as he took another sip of his coffee. "I should think that you'd be eager to get rid of that loser after what he did to your daughter."

Mrs. Briefs eyed her daughter's distasteful boyfriend with an icy gaze. She hadn't liked him from the start. He was rude, conceited and couldn't have cared less about Bulma's family and friends; whatever did she see in him? Some might argue that the same could be said of Vegeta, but as much as Vegeta pretended he was indifferent, it was obvious that he did care. Hiroshi hadn't exhibited any such inclination. "Oh, thank you so much for your concern, Hiroshi. Shatsu is taking care of the situation. You needn't worry about it."

"Good, good. That's a relief," Hiroshi muttered, turning the page of his newspaper.

There was no way Bulma could have missed the sarcasm fairly dripping from her mother's tongue, even if Hiroshi hadn't seemed to notice. Then again, he rarely paid any attention to anything her mother said anyway, she suddenly realized. "Mom-"

"Your breakfast is ready, Dear," Mrs. Briefs announced, setting a plate down in front of Bulma before she could say anything. "Anya, will you and Geta be having breakfast?"

"No, Geta and I are taking our son to Lenny's for breakfast today. But thank you for offering," Anya responded.

"Oh. Bulma, if you're all set I'll save the rest for your father and Vegeta when they come back in. I'm sure they'll be hungry."

"Uhm, thanks, Mom," Bulma told her mother weakly. She also couldn't help but notice that her mother hadn't made any effort to offer breakfast to Hiroshi. That in itself was quite unusual. No one stopped by during mealtime without being subjected to very insistent offers of "sit down, Dear, and let me get you some lunch" or whatever it happened to be that they were eating from her mother.

Her father had taken breakfast with him as he often did, which meant that her mother had every intention of snubbing her boyfriend in favor of the man who'd deliberately crushed her heart. Bulma felt her temperature rise. Why was everyone so against Hiroshi? He was smart, handsome, highly intelligent, and a successful senior officer of a major corporation. ~They're just jealous,~ she decided, ignoring the fact that no one other than her ex-boyfriend had any reason to be jealous of her relationship with Hiroshi. "Hiroshi, would you like some breakfast before Mom puts it away?" she asked loudly enough that her mother would be sure to hear.

"No, I hate pancakes," Hiroshi announced snidely.

"She could make some eggs," Bulma offered.

"Bulma Dear, you'd better hurry if you don't want to be late to your meeting," Mrs. Briefs spoke up. Her gaze met Bulma's.

Her mother's expression bode no opposition. She had no intention whatsoever of cooking breakfast for Hiroshi. "You know, you're right, Mom," Bulma said, rising from her seat. "We'd best be going." She rose from her seat, dumped her breakfast into the trash, and put her plate in the sink. If she didn't eat it, her Kami-damned ex would, no doubt about that, and so into the trash it went. "Let's go, Hiroshi."

Anya watched the couple leave, holding her tongue until she was certain that they were gone. Other than answering Mrs. Briefs' question she had kept silent and out of the way during the entire interchange with Bulma and Hiroshi in the kitchen but could be silent no longer. "Ugh! What a despicable man," she complained, a shudder rushing over her body. "Whatever does Bulma see in him?"

"I have no idea, Dear," Mrs. Briefs told her with a small sigh. "Even if Vegeta didn't still love her, I'd still not like that man."

"You see it too." Anya's comment was clearly a statement and not a question.

"Oh my, yes," Mrs. Briefs agreed. "I can tell that he loves Bulma very much, and that he feels terrible about what happened between them. I only hope that she realizes that before they both get hurt even more than they already are."

Anya sighed. "You and me both, Bunny."

***

"Just a little accident, Vegeta?" Dr. Briefs asked as they entered the GR.

Vegeta knew very well what the doctor was referring to- the blood soaked bed in the sleeping area. After destroying the asteroid, he'd fallen out of Super Saiyan, completely spent, and had managed to stagger over to the bed before collapsing onto it with a groan of pain. He'd laid there for a few minutes until his crushed rib cage made it too difficult to breathe. He had forced himself to remove his armor and go in search of the medical kit, silently thanking every god he knew of that it contained a single senzu bean. He'd had no idea what to do with all of the blood on the bed, from both his numerous cuts and from coughing up all of the blood that had been pooling in his lungs as a result of his internal injuries. "I'm still alive," he commented with a slight shrug, avoiding the doctor's question.

Dr. Briefs raised an eyebrow at him.

"All right, okay," Vegeta relented. "I injured myself rather severely while training and bled a lot because of it," he explained, choosing not to reveal the entire story quite yet. It wasn't that he didn't trust the doctor, but he just wasn't ready to tell anyone else. Dr. Briefs still had a measure of respect for him for some unknown reason, and he didn't want to spoil that by the subject inevitably leading to money. Money was hardly the reason he had returned to Earth, far from it. "I had a senzu bean, so it's fine."

Dr. Briefs wasn't quite convinced but decided to let it drop. "All right then, Vegeta. If you say you're all right, I'll take your word for it."

Vegeta nodded, grateful that Dr. Briefs wasn't going to press the issue further. "If you can provide me with the proper supplies, I will clean up the mess."

To his surprise, the doctor shook his head. "No, I'll just replace it with a new bed," he decided. "This one is pretty worn out anyway."

Vegeta didn't know what to say. Why this man was being so agreeable to him he still wasn't completely clear on. "Thank you, Dr. Briefs," he murmured, humbled once again by the older man's kindness.

Dr. Briefs eyed the prince standing before him. The young man was uncomfortable, that much was evident. How to lighten the mood without driving him away? "Vegeta, I'd like for you to call me Shatsu," he requested. "Not only are you my grandson's father, but we've been acquainted far too long for such formalities. Shatsu and Bunny are fine with the missus and me."

So. Mrs. Briefs had been correct on her husband's feeling on the matter. Vegeta nodded in acceptance. "All right. Shatsu it is, then."

"Good." The doctor retrieved a capsule from his pocket and opened it to reveal a tool kit. "I'll order a new one and install it when it arrives. Give me a hand with this old bed?"

"Of course." Vegeta was grateful that the older man was being respectful of his privacy, evidently realizing that he wasn't comfortable with Bulma's involvement for one reason or another. He knelt down on the floor, trying to ignore the smell of the blood soaked mattress, and reached up for the screwdriver.

***

"What do you think about this set, Dear?"

"Hmm." Vegeta examined the bedroom set that Mrs. Briefs had indicated. It was rather ruggedly built, made of solid wood, sturdy and quite simple in its design. Nothing much could be said about it.

It was perfect.

"Do you like it? If not, there's plenty more to choose from," Mrs. Briefs offered.

Vegeta ran his hand along the top of the dresser. "I even like the color," he told her with a nod of his head.

Mrs. Briefs smiled and shifted VJ in her arms. "Wonderful! Did you want to keep it in mind and keep looking?"

"No, this will do quite nicely," Vegeta assured her.

"Can it be delivered today?" Mrs. Briefs asked the salesman standing nearby.

"Today?" the salesman responded a little hesitantly. "I'll have to check if we have it in stock first."

"In stock?" Vegeta looked at the salesman in puzzlement. "You have it right here."

The man was about to inform Vegeta that this was a floor model and not for sale but thought better of it. This guy- who somehow looked vaguely familiar- was a friend of the Briefs. No one said no to the Briefs. "Of course, Sir. You're correct. If we don't have a set ready to go in our warehouse, I'd be glad to arrange to deliver this one to you." He smiled brightly and folded his hands together. "Now, you said something about a new mattress and some accessories, didn't you?"

"Yes, we need a nice mattress," Mrs. Briefs agreed. "But why don't you check your stock first? If you have a bigger bed, we'll take that one instead." She couldn't have Vegeta sleeping on a twin mattress, could she? He'd be too crowded, the poor dear.

The salesman immediately approached a terminal and typed rapidly at the keyboard. "Let's see... I do have another set in a king," he announced. "Same style and color."

"Oh good, we'll take it," Mrs. Briefs decided. "Let's look at mattresses now."

"Very good, Ma'am. How firm do you prefer your mattress, Sir?" the salesman asked as he led them to the appropriate area of the store.

"Firm," Vegeta insisted. "Nothing squishy." Bulma's mattress had been too squishy, but he'd been willing to tolerate it. He shoved the thought of why he'd been willing to tolerate a soft mattress out of his head. Being in Bulma's bed was the last thing he needed to be thinking about.

"All right. This is our top of the line model," the salesman responded, waving his hand toward a mattress on a steel frame.

Vegeta hesitated. What did this man expect out of him? He reached down and pressed down the mattress with one hand. It felt pretty firm, he supposed, but it wasn't quite right.

"Try it out, Dear," Mrs. Briefs told him.

"Try it out?" Vegeta repeated, uncertain of what she meant. Did she mean he was to go to sleep on this bed?

"Lie down and see if you like how it feels," she coached.

Feeling a little foolish as he did so, Vegeta lay down on the sheetless bed and stared up at the ceiling, his hands folded over his waist. He wriggled a little. "It's squishy."

The salesman's eyebrow rose. This bed was as firm as they got. "It's too soft?"

"I think it's the pillowtop he doesn't like," Mrs. Briefs determined. "Can you show us one without a pillowtop?"

"Of course, Ma'am." The salesman showed them over to another bed. "This side is soft, this one is firm. Try the firm side, Sir."

Mrs. Briefs giggled at the expression on Vegeta's face. "Don't worry, Vegeta. It doesn't actually come like that," she assured him. "It's just so you can try out both firmnesses." She paused. "Is that a word?"

Vegeta quickly got onto the bed before she could continue. "Much better," he announced. "This one is far less squishy."

Mrs. Briefs giggled again. It was so cute how he kept saying 'squishy.' The formality of his speech had gradually relaxed since he'd first come home with Bulma, and some of the things he now said were just adorable. He probably didn't even realize it.

***

"It looks nice, Vegeta," Mrs. Briefs decided as she scanned the room. Her husband was nice enough to have had one of the employees steam clean the carpet while they were gone, and all of the new furniture was set up, the bed made, and things put away. They'd even had a nice new television set mounted on one wall.

Vegeta felt a tug at his heart. Sure, it was nice, but it wasn't what he needed. What he needed was down the hall. "Yes, it does. Thank you, Bunny." He looked over at his son, who was asleep on the bed, his little mouth moving as if he were dreaming of suckling at his mother's breast. Lucky little brat.

"You're welcome, Dear." Mrs. Briefs picked up VJ and headed for the door. "I'll put him in his crib."

Vegeta watched her go and sat down on the end of the bed with a sigh. He felt so empty inside. Now that he had unwittingly learned how to feel, he didn't know what to feel.

It didn't feel good.

He laid back against the pillows. Oddly enough, for not liking a soft bed, he'd learned to like all the pillows Bulma always had on the bed. He shook his head. ~There I go again. Thinking about Bulma's bed.~ Grabbing the television remote, he turned the device on and checked the channels he actually liked.

Nothing.

Vegeta turned the television back off and tossed the remote on the bed. Back for a day, and already he didn't know what to do with himself. He certainly wasn't going to train. That was what got him in this Kami damned mess to begin with; he didn't need an altercation with Bulma over that. His infant son was sleeping. His adult son and daughter-in-law were out with his grandson. Dr. Briefs was in his lab, and Mrs. Briefs was probably cooking something or doing something crafty. She always did like to make things.

There was a knock at the door and Mrs. Briefs poked her head in. "Dear, you have a phone call," she informed him, holding out the phone.

Vegeta blinked in surprise. "Me?" Who would be calling him? He accepted the phone from the blonde haired woman, who left to go back to doing whatever it was she did during the day. "Hello?" he asked hesitantly.

"Hey, Vegeta! You're back."

Oh. "Kakarrot."

"Yeah." There was a long pause. "Vegeta, I..." Goku sighed. He wanted to ask Vegeta why he'd hurt his friend, but didn't know if it was the best of ideas. Maybe it would be best to talk with him face to face, so he could determine whether or not Vegeta was as sad as Mrs. Briefs had said he was. "I felt your ki come back yesterday."

"Yes."

Evidently Vegeta was going to play the Not Forthcoming Today game. "I was wondering if you'd like to spar sometime."

Although he'd sparred with Geta, it was close enough to training and he didn't know if he wanted to face Bulma's friends yet. He was having enough problems with the woman herself. "I don't know, Kakarrot."

"Aww, why not? What else do you have planned soon?" Goku asked logically.

There was another long pause. "Nothing, I suppose."

"So do you wanna spar or not? I know it's cold out, but at least there's no snow on the ground. The rain took care of that. Hey, I watched the weather today, and it's supposed to actually be nice and sunny especially next week, and it's supposed to warm up too. We haven't sparred in a while. Chi-Chi needs me to help her for the next couple of days so I think sometime next week would be a great time to-"

"If I promise to think about it will you shut up?" Vegeta interrupted irritably. Gods, the man could rival Mrs. Briefs herself with his chattering.

"Yup." Vegeta could almost hear the other Saiyan's goofy smile. "So I'll see you soon, okay? I'll come over one day after breakfast. Oops, Chi-Chi needs me. Gotta go, bye!" The line went dead.

Vegeta flopped back down onto the bed. Great. Just what he needed, Kakarrot questioning him. Then the big retard would go yammering to all of his equally retarded friends about everything that was said. He stared at the ceiling fan. It was as still and listless as he was. He needed something to do. He couldn't just lie there and do nothing. He couldn't just lie there feeling sorry for himself. What female wanted a moping male as her mate?

Growling irritably, he got up and headed for the labs, knowing Dr. Briefs would be there. Bulma's ki was not present in the labs, which was all the better.

"Ah, Vegeta. Fancy seeing you here. I was actually just about to come see you," Dr. Briefs noted.

"Really?" Vegeta asked in surprise.

"Yes. Do you like your new furnishings?"

That wasn't what he'd expected. "They are adequate, yes."

"Good, good. Listen, Vegeta, I'm in the middle of a project here and would like your assistance." Dr. Briefs got up from his computer and came over, holding a small metal object. He switched it on. "Can you sense that?"

Vegeta's eyebrows rose in surprise. "That feels like Geta's ki," he said in astonishment.

The doctor nodded. "Yes, that's exactly what it is," he confirmed. "I have a sample of his ki energy in this little battery here. Bulma and I intend to use these batteries as beacons, you might say, to make that instant transmission trick you Saiyans do easier. If we place them in various locations around Capsule Corp, anyone who knows how can pick up on the ki signal and transport right to it."

Vegeta found himself duly impressed. "That's not a bad idea at all," he agreed. "But how do you intend to differentiate this ki from Geta's actual ki? And how do you plan to place the same ki in various locations without confusion?"

"Good questions, young man. First off, this beacon can emulate a ki signal in different strengths, as well as different frequencies. So, if I set this one here," Dr. Briefs responded, setting the small battery down, "and this one over here," he continued, placing a second battery across the lab, "you can differentiate between the two, can't you? They are, in fact, both Geta's ki energy, just being emulated differently. That's all." He looked at Vegeta expectantly.

"That's..." Vegeta thought about it. The old man was right. He could easily tell the difference. "That just might work." A slow smile spread over his face.

"Geta thought so too, and so did Goku," Dr. Briefs told him. "Even Yamcha could detect the difference. Besides, think of it this way. We'll have your ki to use, too, and Anya's as well. She can channel ki she takes, remember? Goku told me that when Anya uses Geta's ki, her ki is still definitely different from his. Anya using both Geta's ki and yours adds another two distinctly different signals."

Vegeta's smile widened. "That's quite brilliant, I must confess." He found himself looking forward to assisting with this project.

"Bulma's idea. That's my girl," Dr. Briefs said proudly. "This has been a very rewarding invention for her. She's quite proud of it."

"Oh." Vegeta's face fell a little. "She should be. It's a good idea."

"Vegeta, don't feel that way," the doctor chastised gently, noting his trepidation. "She'll want your involvement." He watched as the younger man was unable to keep his face from falling further; obviously he didn't take his statement seriously. "Just let her cool down a little. When I show her what you've been able to contribute, she'll be pleased."

"Yeah." Vegeta stared down at the floor, suddenly not wanting to meet Bulma's father eye to eye.

"Meanwhile," the doctor hinted gently, "I have a larger scale version of this I'd like you to help me with."

Vegeta looked up at him. "Larger scale?"

"Yes. Come on over here and see." Dr. Briefs wandered over to another room off of the main lab area. "We had more room in my lab than Bulma's, so it's installed here. You'll find this quite interesting, I'm sure."

Vegeta followed the doctor into the room, the walls of which appeared to be heavily constructed and had a glass room installed in the far corner. "This is a battery?"

"Well... not exactly. But it's helped us learn how to measure ki more appropriately so we can build the beacons, among other things," Dr. Briefs responded. "Remember how Bulma suggested running some tests to measure how Anya uses ki energy so we could build a ki battery? Well, this is the measuring device. I've had both Geta and Anya use it so far, and I'm anxious to see the results when you do as well."

Vegeta shifted a little uneasily. He didn't want the truth about his trip to space public knowledge yet. "What would I have to do?"

Dr. Briefs noted Vegeta's further discomfort but said nothing. "This room is ki shielded. The booth is shielded even further, using the same technology as your GR does," he explained. "What I would need you to do is to slowly power up, progressively pushing higher and higher until you reach your limit. I can gather some very valuable data while monitoring your progress. It'll also help me build a better GR." He wriggled his eyebrows at the tempting idea. "I'm especially excited to get your test results, seeing as you're a full-blooded Saiyan in comparison to your son."

Vegeta hesitated. This was Bulma's brainchild, but he couldn't let her know he was a Super Saiyan yet. He didn't want her thinking that was the reason he came back, or that the reason he wanted her back was that he'd reached his goal. "I... I don't mind helping you, but I insist that the results be private between the two of us."

Dr. Briefs frowned in confusion. "I must admit, I don't understand, Vegeta. Why wouldn't you want anyone but me to see your results?"

"How long will this test take?"

Dr. Briefs shrugged. "You can take as long as you like. Slow and steady is better. The final results are completely compiled by the computer in only a couple minutes."

"Then secure the lab, and let's run the test." Vegeta eyed the doctor, but his gaze lacked the intensity it normally did.

"All right then." As before, Dr. Briefs dismissed Vegeta's odd behavior. He'd talk about it when he was ready. He locked the main door, then keyed in a code to lock and shield the room they were in. "Go on inside the booth when you're ready."

Vegeta went inside, drawing in a deep breath as the door slid shut and secured itself. This was it. He didn't want to let the doctor down. He was a good man he'd come to respect who had done nothing but treat him with respect since he arrived back. That meant being truthful with him, which included this test.

"Go ahead when you're ready, Vegeta. Slow and steady," came Dr. Briefs' voice into the little room.

Vegeta nodded and began powering up. Slow and steady. He could do this. He had dropped his ki as low as possible before beginning and had now reached the point he had been at before ascending. It felt odd that what was once normal now felt weak.

Dr. Briefs watched the computer screen in front of him with surprise. No doubt about it, the prince was putting out far more energy than what had normally been conducted by the GR. Had he actually made that much progress while in space? Why hadn't Vegeta wanted to share this with Bulma? These results would be phenomenally helpful.

He paused when he saw the reason why.

As raw power surged through Vegeta the pain of his guilt did as well, and he let out a loud shout as he continued to power up. It wasn't a shout of effort or of physical pain. It was a cry of anguish.

Dr. Briefs shielded his eyes as a flash of gold filled the room for a moment until Vegeta let it ebb down again. He stared in shock at the blonde haired warrior in the booth. Vegeta had become a Super Saiyan while in space! This was fantastic! "Vegeta?" his voice entered the small room through a speaker. "Are you all right?"

Vegeta had his head down and his eyes closed. He opened his eyes and looked up at the doctor through the heavily shielded glass. Upon seeing his reflection, he turned away hastily and threw up the disguise of dark hair and eyes once more. He may be a Super Saiyan and he may remain in that state for the reasons his son did, but that didn't mean he had to look upon his shame. Yes, ironically enough, what was once Vegeta's largest source of pride was now his greatest reason for shame.

Dr. Briefs opened the booth and stood outside of it. "Vegeta?"

"I would gladly give it all up forever if I even thought it might make a difference, Shatsu. It is nowhere near worth the price I paid," came the small response.

Dr. Briefs felt his heart wrench at the miserable tone of Vegeta's voice and the pain in his eyes when they rose again to look at him. He understood now why Vegeta didn't want Bulma to know of his ascension. "This will stay between you and me, all right?" he said quietly.

"Thank you," Vegeta murmured in response.

"When Bulma asks for you to take this test, and I know she will, you attain whatever level you feel comfortable with, and I won't say a thing. You have my word," Dr. Briefs assured him.

Before Vegeta could respond, a buzzing sound came from the lab's intercom. "Daddy? Are you in there?"

Bulma. Vegeta hadn't been able to sense her ki because of the shielding, and now he was trapped.

"Don't worry, Vegeta." Dr. Briefs unlocked the main door. "Sorry, Pumpkin. I was showing Vegeta the ki measuring device we put together and didn't want just anyone walking in."

"Mom says dinner is ready," Bulma reported, once again completely disregarding anything to do with Vegeta's presence.

"Tell her I'm shutting down here for the day and we'll be there in a few minutes," her father directed. "Oh, and Bulma? Vegeta has already indicated that he's willing to assist with your testing for this project whenever you need it."

Bulma stared at her father for a moment. "That's nice," she said emotionlessly before leaving the lab.

Dr. Briefs felt pity for the man standing next to him wash over him. It was evident that Vegeta was hurting because of her cold behavior and even more evident that he was unable to mask his emotions as well as he once could. He couldn't blame him; if he made a mistake and his wife flatly refused to forgive him, even moving on to another man, it would crush him as well. "Vegeta, I..." He sighed. "Let's go have some dinner, hmm?"

Vegeta shook his head. "No, I think I will retire for the evening. Good night." He left the lab without so much as waiting for a response.

"But..." Dr. Briefs sighed. This wasn't going to be easy.

***

"Shatsu? What happened to Vegeta? Isn't he having any dinner?" Mrs. Briefs asked as her husband took a seat at the table.

"No, Bunny. He declined to join us," Dr. Briefs responded.

Mrs. Briefs frowned. It wasn't difficult to understand why. "Oh. The poor dear."

"Pass the salt, Mom?" Bulma asked casually.

"I'll make up a tray for him," Mrs. Briefs decided. She took the plate from the empty seat at the table and began to dish it up.

"Mom? Salt, please?" Bulma repeated.

"Oh, and gravy. Vegeta likes lots of gravy," the blonde woman murmured, completely ignoring her daughter.

"Mother!"

Anya and Geta exchanged a glance. This definitely had the potential to become ugly.

Mrs. Briefs hummed to herself as she poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. "I'll be right back," she announced, picking up the tray.

"Damn it, Mom, don't ignore me! What the hell is the matter with you?" Bulma shouted.

Mrs. Briefs set the tray back down with more force than was necessary. "What's the matter with me? You've been a snide little bitch lately, that's what, young lady," she retorted. "So get off your high horse this instant and start treating everyone else with the same dignity and respect that you constantly demand of them!"

Bulma's eyes widened and she let out a gasp. Her mother had never spoken that way to her before. She hardly ever raised her voice! Her eyes narrowed and her face took on an angry expression. "How can you even contemplate defending that son-of-a-bitch Vegeta, Mom?" she practically screamed. "Don't you care what he did to me? Doesn't it matter even one iota to you how badly he hurt me? He couldn't care less how I feel, so why the hell should I be polite to him?"

Mrs. Briefs put her hands on her hips and glared at her daughter. "Have you even spoken with him civilly, Bulma? Because I have. But oh, no, you couldn't possibly lower yourself to do that, could you?"

Bulma snorted in derision. "Oh sure. What did he do, come crying on your shoulder?" she asked sarcastically.

Mrs. Briefs picked the tray back up. One brow rose slightly, and a small haughty smirk that clearly meant 'wouldn't you like to know?' formed on her lips as she gave her daughter a sideways glance before leaving the table without another word.

Bulma realized she was staring at her mother in astonishment and corrected herself. She didn't know if her mother had been serious or if her meaning was figurative. Vegeta, literally crying on her shoulder? Doubtful. But then again, her mother wasn't one to play around with words. She was always right to the point and said exactly what she meant. "Yeah, right. Whatever. You honestly expect me to believe that Vegeta of all people would-"

"You go right on believing whatever you want to, Dear," Mrs. Briefs interrupted. "You always do." The kitchen door swung shut behind her.

"I don't believe this!" Bulma exclaimed. "How can she say such a thing to me?"

"Perhaps you should take your mother's advice for a change," Dr. Briefs advised. "She's never lead you astray before, has she?"

"Great, you too! What, did you two get together and talk about how to drive me completely crazy?" Bulma accused him. She got up from the table and stomped out of the room.

After a moment's pause, Anya removed her hands from her son's ears. "I'm almost afraid to ask for the pepper."

***

Vegeta waited for the knock he knew would be forthcoming. "Come in."

The door opened and Mrs. Briefs entered, carrying a heavily laden tray. "I brought you some dinner, Dear."

He managed a smile for the blonde haired woman. "Thank you, Bunny," he murmured, accepting the tray from her. He placed it on the night stand beside the bed. "Now do you see why I decided not to come?"

Mrs. Briefs frowned. "Heard her all the way up here, huh?"

He let out a sound halfway between a snort and a chuckle and shook his head. "How could anyone miss it?"

"I'm sorry, Dear," Mrs. Briefs told him softly, sitting down on the bed beside him.

"There's no reason for you to be sorry," Vegeta told her. "You haven't done anything to be sorry for. I'm the one who screwed everything up."

She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Please be patient with her, Vegeta. Eventually she'll calm down and talk to you about things. Just give her some time. She's very hurt."

He nodded soberly but didn't look at her. "I know. I..."

"You what, Dear?" Mrs. Briefs prompted.

"I... I've done a lot to be sorry about, but I've never regretted anything as much as I regret that day," he admitted, his head down and his hands in his lap. "I didn't mean what I said to her, not the way it came out."

"What do you mean?"

Vegeta sighed. How was this woman always able to get him to open up to her so freely? "I told her she was a distraction, and she is. But not in a bad way. That's why I..." He stopped and drew in a deep breath.

Understanding flooded her face. "That's why you left," she finished.

He nodded. "I told her she was a distraction I didn't need or want," he confessed. "I wasn't being truthful with her when I said that. Nothing could be further from the truth. But you know how argumentative she can get. I thought if I got her angry, it would be easier for me to go, and she wouldn't be upset and asking me to stay."

"But instead of being angry, she was hurt."

"Please, Bunny. I can't go through this again," Vegeta whispered.

Mrs. Briefs could see him biting at his lip. If she continued to press for details, he might break down again, and she knew he was embarrassed enough at having shown as much emotion as he had the night before. It wasn't necessary to see again; she knew his tears had been genuine. He'd learn someday that emotions weren't bad, and learn how to express himself better. That's what he hadn't been able to do, she realized. Her husband had been right. Vegeta hadn't been able to express himself to Bulma, so he was mean to her instead. "Okay, Dear. Have some dinner and try to get some rest, all right?"

He nodded again.

She got up and kissed him on the cheek. "Good night, Vegeta." Just before she shut the door, she heard him call her name. "Yes, Dear?"

"I haven't really discussed this with Shatsu at all," he began hesitantly. "But I want him to understand."

Perhaps Vegeta was having trouble facing her husband that way. Maybe she seemed less threatening than he did. "I'll talk to him, okay?"

"Okay," he repeated. "Good night, Bunny."

"Good night, Vegeta. Sleep well, Dear." The door shut, and once again Vegeta found himself alone.