Sins of the Father

By NinjaWhisper

(premise and request by Charismatic Beauty)

Summary – A mysterious alien appears on Earth, set on targeting Vegeta. But, instead of hitting him directly with brute force, the villain decides to go through his son, Trunks. Why? Who is this villain? And better yet, how will Vegeta react when his own son declares him an enemy?

Chapter 1

Peace was not kind to Vegeta. Eight years passed since the battle of Buu and with each one he grew a little more restless, a little grumpier (if that was even possible). After Buu, Bulma had high hopes for her husband, and for a little while he was more supportive and attentive, meeting her expectations. But when Trunks entered into his teen years and began to discover other interests besides training, Vegeta seemed to go downhill. It wasn't that he reverted back to a bastard, but most of the time he wasn't that enjoyable to be around. A warrior without wartime was like a ship without sea, and he simply had no purpose or goal.

When Bra was born, Bulma thought he might perk up; but, when he set her two tiny feet within the gravity room she whined her head off to go watch an anime about a cat instead. And now . . . Now Goku had to prance away to train some kid named Uub. . .

Bulma sighed. This was just about as bad as after Goku died during the Cell battle. She understood Vegeta like no one else could, and she realized that he was going through a period of drifting without direction. A midlife crisis basically. He even bought a black leather jacket the other day. It was only time before he purchased the motorcycle to match.

She ran the duster over her worktable and desk. An outsider would have dropped their jaw at the sight of Mrs. Bulma Briefs, Zeninaire and heir to CC, cleaning. There was no way that she would allow a maid or even a bot to touch her scientific tools, notes, and equipment down in the lab. The feathers hit something, followed by a clatter.

"Son of a Namek!" Bulma exclaimed. She instantly threw her right palm over her mouth. Geez, she was picking up on Vegeta's phrases. She shook her head and gave a giggle. The laughter stopped when she noticed what had fallen off the desk. She lifted the picture frame to identify a jagged crack in the frame, resembling a schism across their family photo. The picture had been taken by her mother shortly after the Buu fight. Vegeta had his head turned, his cheeks red. Trunks, the little boy he used to be, held his father's gloved hand with a look of pride. She herself leaned in close to both of them. Such happy times, such hopeful times.

I'll get a better frame, she thought. She set it down on the worktable.

Bulma raised her gaze to fall on the darkened screen on the other side of the lab. She tried to give Vegeta his privacy these days but she still used the screen to call him to dinner and such. Today, she had a sense of curiosity. It was 10:50 and her boys would still be in the middle of their training session. She walked over and flipped the one-way switch.

The screen blinked on, and she saw the dimly lit gravity room. The blue, black, and purple blotches moved at a heightened speed that prevented Bulma from fully making out the action. Vegeta punched furiously at the lesser muscled body. Trunks dodged, hopping around like a pinball.

"Come on, is that all you have, boy?"

The teen slowed, panting. Vegeta came up, hovering, above his head. He gazed down at his son like an ant. "You are pathetic. The other Trunks wasn't as sluggish and weak. Maybe I should go find him to spar with."

Trunks raised his head and Bulma had never seen the look in his eyes that he gave his father then. The eyes resembled Vegeta's more than her own, dark and full of disdain.

Vegeta lowered and knee-kicked Trunks in the gut. Bulma gasped, a hand reaching out in the air. No. She had a hard time believing that all their training sessions had been this brutal. This was getting out of hand.

"Should I even call you a Saiyan? I most certainly cannot call you a prince of mine. I wouldn't even allow a third-class clown like Kakarot to give you the respect."

Okay, now Bulma was pissed. Just yesterday he called Bra his princess; a three-year-old who did nothing but dress up, play tea party, and watch shows about sharing. As Kami as her witness, she was not going to stand by and allow Vegeta to tear down their son this way. He won the science fair. He fixed the plane when the engine died. He played that trick on Krillin in which he thought his hair was falling out. They all laughed at that, even Vegeta. Trunks was a smart kid with a bright future. There was more to life than being able to smack your father around.

Trunks turned his head and spat blood.

"I hate you," Trunks stated. His voice was cool, calm, solid as ice.

No one was perceptive enough to catch Vegeta's subtleties but Bulma. She caught the way Vegeta stiffened. She couldn't fully see his eyes due to the camera angle, but she knew that they were hardened only to mask the hurt from below. She was caught between thinking his actions justified the stab and feeling empathy.

Okay, enough. Bulma turned to head upstairs to break up the scene. Somehow she could fix this. There had to be a way to reach Vegeta and bring him out of this funk. All she wanted to do for Trunks was hug him and tell him she loved him.

Just as she made it to the stairs, a body hurled past. It took her a few seconds to recognize it as Trunks fleeing the premises. There was a time that Trunks used the windows to escape but now he only used the door.

"Trunks! Wait, come back here!"

No response. She heard a loud bang. Gone. Why did men always have to run away from their problems?

Bulma stomped down the hall. "Vegeta!" she called.

The door to the GR was ajar and she pushed it open. Vegeta touched a few buttons, probably shutting off the temperature control. She crossed her arms, blocking the escape route.

"What the hell was that?"

Calmly, Vegeta met her eyes. "Nothing."

"It most certainly was something, Vegeta. Trunks doesn't fly out the door on a good day."

Her husband seemed massive despite his height and she shivered. He seemed overpowering as he stepped towards her and she had the impulse to back up. "It is none of your damn business."

Bulma raised her chin. "It most certainly is my business. This is my family and I can't stand back and watch it fall apart."

"This is a Saiyan matter. You don't understand," he said.

"That's not what I saw. I saw a son who thinks his father doesn't love him."

Vegeta's eyes and nostrils flared. She reached out to him. "But I know that isn't true."

He took the hand from his chest. He firmly but not roughly pushed her aside. "I'm going to take a shower."

One of Bulma's traits was to not back down. So, of course, she followed. She was about to press the issue further but stopped when she spotted Bra peek her head from around the corner. She held a naked Barbie Doll.

"Papa, help me find a party dress?"

Vegeta stopped and stared down at the doll with tangled hair. "I don't dress up pieces of plastic! I fight. I don't go to science fairs or pageants, or watch reruns on television. I fight and I power up. That is what we Saiyans do."

The little girl in polka-dots flinched. Her bottom lip wobbled but she didn't cry. Bulma stepped forward and scooped her daughter up. Bra held her mother's neck.

"Vegeta, what the hell is wrong with you lately?"

From the incredulous look he gave she knew he asked himself the same question.