It had been a few months after Son Goku's death by Cell, and Bulma was starting to wonder if he would ever come back.

"What do you mean, dearie? Didn't you say that Goku-chan didn't want to come back? Very heroic of him, I think."

"Not Goku, Mom. Vegeta. I haven't seen or heard from him for almost half a year. I mean, I know he did his part when they were fighting Cell. In fact, Krillin told me that he helped a lot. And I really wanted to talk to him about it."

"But you did talk to Krillin about it."
"Argh! Not Krillin, Mom! Vegeta! I just wanted to know if you've seen him around anywhere! He might not even be on this planet anymore. I can't...I can't sense him anywhere. But sometimes...I think he masks it from me."

"Ooh, really? I didn't know they could do that. But I also don't know the first thing about this sensing business."
"I wish he wouldn't hide from me. I really want to talk to him."

"But, Bulma dear...didn't you two break up?"

"Uh, no, Mother. We weren't...really a 'couple' before."

"What do you mean, hon? How could-"

"We didn't do couple-y things. Like dating. We just had a fling for awhile."

"Oh I see." Mrs. Brief flashed a bright blue eye at her daughter.

"So it was just about the sex then?" At the look of horror on Bulma's face, she just giggled. "Well, I don't blame you for that. I mean, he must have been-"

"Yeah, it was great, Mom." Bulma jumped up quickly. "Thanks for the input. I think I'll just ask anyone else if they've seen or sensed him." Just when she was about to walk out of the living room, her mom cleared her throat meaningfully. Bulma paused, her back going rigid.

"I sure hope that's not what this was all about, Bulma-chan. I didn't raise you to use men like that. I know that I get flirty and all, but I don't really mean it." She sighed. "You two have little Trunks. You should stay together." Bulma stood there for a moment, overcome with how deep her mom was being. Usually she was such an airhead. When she spoke, her eyes pricked with tears.

"I'll try, Mama. But I'm not sure he wants to stay. He's a warrior, and he's just...not used to living in one place. Maybe it's better that he-"

"This is his home. We are his family. He'll come back, you'll see." She was back to her perky self, and said these things like they were nothing as she poured herself a tiny pink cup of tea.

"Sure." Bulma whispered.

In her room, she flopped onto the bed. It protested more than it used to, making her think of Vegeta's skin against hers, and his hands on her...She shook her head, and picked up the phone. She would call one of the Z warriors, Yamcha or Krillin. One of them might know where he went. She was pretty sure they would be able to sense him better than she could. Her ability for that had been pretty limited from the start, and for some reason, she had never bothered to train it up. She wondered about her ki sometimes, especially when she had Vegeta around. Apparently, she had it in her to fly, and even contact those close to her telepathically. Before Goku died, she had considered asking him to teach her. She really wished Vegeta would, but he would be a horrible teacher. Everything she knew about him was impatient and hurried. If she could just get him to slow down and be calm...but she wasn't sure that was possible. His energy just didn't flow that way.

She held the phone on her lap, pondering who to call. She missed Goku, and wished that she could hear his happy voice again. The idea that she never would made her feel dizzy and nauseous. A world without Goku was not much of a world, in her opinion. When she felt herself starting to cry, she jumped up and strode over to Trunks's crib. He was fast asleep, but she really wanted to hold him, and breathe him in. She watched him for awhile, and marveled out how beautiful he still was to her. He always reminded her of Vegeta, though, even though she doubted he ever looked that innocent in his sleep.

She shrugged out her shirt, deciding to just lay in bed for the evening. Maybe she'd order out and watch a movie. Whatever it was, Bulma had to get her mind off of the two Saiyans that seemed bound and determined to haunt her mind.

She woke up abruptly to the sound of Trunks crying. No, it was more like screaming. He sounded terrified. The room was dark. The TV had switched off on its own. She pushed herself up, shoving over a pile of empty food cartons on the unused side of her bed.

"Trunks?" Her voice sounded small in the dark. She was dimly aware that something was off. Her window was open, and a cool breeze blew in. It smelled like rain, and she could have sworn right before she woke up that there had been the sound of thunder.

"Trunks...I'm here, baby. What's-" She stopped short at his crib, then let out a little shriek.

"Vegeta! What the hell are you- You scared the shit out of me, you asshole!" She flew at his silhouette, punching uselessly with her small fists, causing more damage to herself than to him. Trunks cried even harder. The Saiyan prince stepped aside with a frustrated growl. He stood still and quiet in the dark as she scooped up their howling son in her arms and held him close to her breast. She backed away from him slowly, suddenly very aware that she was in a short tee shirt and underwear. When she sat on the bed, Trunks started grabbing for her, and she blushed. She swallowed hard, and focused her attention only on her baby's needs, lifting up her shirt, baring her breast for him to suckle. She felt Vegeta's eyes on her, then he twitched, glancing away. She still couldn't see him very well, and it really unsettled her that he was just standing there.

"So, what the hell do you think you're doing, just showing up here in the middle of the night, and scaring us to death?! I can't believe that you'd think that's okay. Oh wait, it's YOU. Things like this make sense to you."

"Oh, calm down, woman. I was just looking at the boy. I wasn't going to eat him." They were both silent for a moment; the only noise in the room was the wet smacking of Trunks's midnight snack.

"Vegeta…" Bulma sighed. "What exactly are you doing here, anyway?" She saw his fists clench, and a soft growl rumbled in his throat.

"Where the hell else am I supposed to go? Don't I live here anymore? Or did you and your friends get together and decide to ban me from the compound? Was it because I couldn't kill Cell, or do you blame me for Kakarrot's dea-"

"Don't you DARE bring up Goku around me!" She stood up, and Trunks started to cry again. Ignoring it, she strode over to Vegeta. She stood face to face with him, neither one of them looking away. After what seemed like a long time, Vegeta finally broke the contact, his gaze falling to something over her shoulder.

"So, you do blame me?" His voice sounded strange, almost guilty. Where had he been all these months? What was going through that crazed mind of his?

"No… that's not what I meant." Bulma softened. She reached her hand up and boldly pushed back some of Vegeta's hair. He smelled clean, and was wearing casual clothes instead of armor. He didn't flinch from her touch, but she saw the familiar muscle in his jaw jump.

"I just...don't want to believe he's gone...not yet." She said, then sighed and turned toward the bed again. Trunks had calmed down, starting to suckle again. She sat down, her legs suddenly feeling weak. He looked vulnerable and small over there in the dark corner of her room, and she could hear his raspy breathing. Something about his energy felt different. Almost like despair.

"Hey," she whispered. "Come over here." With a free hand, she patted the comforter. Surprisingly enough, it only took a heartbeat or two, and he was lowering himself next to her, his eyes trained onto their son. Trunks looked back, then made a small whining sound. It reminded Bulma of a dog after it's been kicked. Vegeta snorted.

"Why is he still afraid of me? I'm his father, for hell's sake." Bulma stroked the baby's soft hair. A fork of lightning flashed, and she realized that the window was still open. The light made everything stand out in stark relief, and she shivered. Almost mechanically, Vegeta stood up and closed the window, sliding the glass and latching it. As an afterthought, he tugged the curtains closed as well. The room plunged into darkness, and Trunks made a started noise.

"Damn, these curtains are thick. I didn't think it would…" Vegeta mumbled to himself, and not for the first time, Bulma questioned his sanity. She reached over for the lamp, but her eye caught on a sudden soft glow. Vegeta had brought some of his ki to the surface, and it lit him up from the inside out. It was the dimmest "power up" she had ever seen, and she smiled.

"I didn't know you could bring out your ki so gently. It's...nice."

"Yeah, I'm a giant night light. How amusing." He sounded gruff, but she could hear that crooked smile in his voice. Little Trunks wiggled in her arms, and when she looked down, she saw that he was staring over at his father with huge, fascinated eyes. His chubby hand thrust out towards him.

"Hey," Bulma giggled. "Look at Trunks." Vegeta sat down on the bed again, and Trunks squirmed out of Bulma's arms. He could crawl easily now, and he made his way across the bed to the prince. Bulma felt a brief flash of hesitation, but it evaporated. She knew that Vegeta would never hurt his son. He had never hurt her, and Trunks was his own blood. He watched as the baby pressed his little hand onto his hard thigh. Their son cooed with amusement, and looked up at Vegeta, all sense of fear gone. Bulma smiled, and when she caught Vegeta's eye, his lips were twitching. Soon the child was crawling into his lap. He stood up, placing his hands on his father's chest. Vegeta blinked down at him. Suddenly, Trunks pushed him. His fat palms pressed into the prince's chest as hard as he could. An amused grunt escaped from Vegeta, then a short laugh. The baby looked like he was trying to press the ki out of his body.

"Maybe he's trying to squeeze it out, so he can have some of it too." Bulma mused.

"Hey, how old does he have to be before you teach him how to use his ki?" She realized as she asked this, that she was asking Vegeta to stay and raise his son with her. Without hesitation he answered.

"Not that old, actually." His voice grew soft. "My own father...taught me when I was about two, I think. I was young enough that I can't remember. But if he's anything like our future boy, he should learn pretty fast." Bulma almost laughed. 'Our future boy?' Something about that sounded so sweet to her; she could feel herself flushing with a sudden arousal for him. He was being so gentle with Trunks, and he had come to her, clean, like he had expected to sleep with her. They hadn't been intimate in so long, and she missed it. Even when he took her quickly and with a wild hunger, it always felt so good. She felt herself move closer to him and the baby. She stroked Trunks's hair, and he broke his attention away from Vegeta's glowing yellow chest and laughed at Bulma. Then he looked at his father again. Back and forth, his big eyes darted between both of them, like he was trying to make the connection. Then he sat down with a plop, causing Vegeta to flinch and gasp a little. Bulma quickly scooped him up.

"Oh, Trunks… Are you okay, Vegeta?" She winced. "That looked like it hurt." His hand twitched on his inner thigh, almost touching his groin. He cleared his throat.

"I didn't expect that, you little brat...ugh…" Bulma couldn't help but laugh. Vegeta glared over at her, and she hid her face behind their son.

"Well, I think it's time for the 'little brat' to go back to sleep. Eh, Trunks? Oh, but I should probably check your diaper first." She cooed to him. Standing up, she made her way towards the changing room. When she looked over her shoulder, she noticed Vegeta watching.

"Are you staying? I'll be right back. And hey, Trunks has another crib. Do you want me to put him there instead?" He arched an eyebrow at what she was implying, then in answer, he fell back onto the bed. Bulma wasn't even sure he had come there for sex. He looked exhausted and a little...lost. It wasn't like him at all.

"Whatever," he muttered. Bulma stared at him for a moment longer, then left the room. As she changed Trunks, she thought about what Vegeta must be feeling right now. He'd trained for years to become a Super Saiyan, and, although he had achieved that, he hadn't beaten the Androids. No one could have expected the odd turn of events. What happened would have been fine, if it hadn't been for Cell. Vegeta not only made that situation worse, but he'd failed at beating Perfect Cell, and then, Goku's twelve-year-old son beat him instead. On top of everything, like the icing on the proverbial cake, Goku, his rival, the one person he trained himself to defeat, died at the hands of Cell. Bulma shook her head sadly as she lowered Trunks into his crib. He must be so humiliated. His energy felt diminished, and just...wrong somehow. She wondered if there was anything she could do to help. She also wondered if he had come looking for her to help him. Almost a year ago, when they had had their fling, that had been what it felt like. He had been calling out to her somehow. Like she could fix him. There were many things that Bulma could fix. She was a mechanic after all. But Vegeta proved to be her biggest challenge yet. And she was starting to think that he would be broken forever. Sure, she could solder a few things here and there, but could she ever mend him entirely? That part was up to him. He had to allow her to help him first, and she was pretty sure that was the biggest hurdle to jump over.

When she padded softly back into her bedroom, he was still laying on her bed. He hadn't bothered to chose sides, his body right in the middle. She would have been a little irritated at that, if it hadn't been for the look on his face. He was staring up at the ceiling dismally. His dark eyes looked haunted. He didn't even blink. If she stared long enough, he looked like a corpse. The idea that he was a corpse in Mirai Trunks's timeline made her stomach drop. She swallowed hard and approached the bed.

"Vegeta?" Her voice was a thin whisper. She was so afraid he wouldn't answer. That his heart had somehow stopped beating. That he'd forgotten how to live. Why did she care about him so much. Why was there so much love in her heart for this tragic, arrogant prince?

When she waited an agonizingly long time for him to answer, and he remained silent, she sat on the bed beside him. His unblinking eyes unnerved her so much that she slowly brought a hand towards his face. Smoothing back the hair on his forehead, she tried again.

"Vegeta?" Her tone sounded a little more desperate this time. He suddenly took a deep, rushing breath, as if he had forgotten to breathe. His eyelids lowered, and he looked over at her.

"What?" He replied. He sounded tired. Not just the sleepy kind of tired, but weary. A broken down kind of tired, like he had given up on life. It broke her heart.

"I just…" She trailed off, having no idea what to say. She didn't know what to do with this Vegeta. Angry Vegeta she could handle. She just stood up to him, not backing down. Lusty Vegeta, she knew what to do as well. In spades. But, this new, depressed Vegeta? She had no idea that he could even get sad like this. And sad wasn't even the right word. It was more like he wasn't driven by anything anymore. No motivation. Given the fact that that was his number one quality, (especially one that she admired so much) and that it had vanished completely...it felt like she was falling down a cold, dark well. With no bucket to raise her back up again. Her chest physically ached to see him like this. She put that feeling out there, as strong as she could. She wanted him to read her. She wanted him to know that when he was in this kind of pain, she was feeling it too. It was tearing her up inside. She loved him. He had to see it by now. She closed her eyes and sent him that love. She could feel the power of it pulsing toward him. Hearing the blankets stir, she cracked open her eyes for a peak. Had it worked? Then she felt a sudden warmth on her hand. She looked down. His hand was covering hers. It tightened, but not too hard. She felt like he was protecting her. From himself.

"Don't…" He whispered.

"Don't what?"

"Whatever you're doing. Just...don't."

"But, Vegeta… I can't stop."

"Hn." He growled. His hand left hers, but his black eyes remained pinned on her.

"Why do you care about me so much?" He rasped. "What do you gain…? I've never given you a reason… not once." His eyes grew hard with anger, but it wasn't directed towards her. It was inward. He was angry with himself. She leaned toward him. Her hands were on either side of her face.

"I don't need a reason, Vegeta." She lowered her face down towards his, and he flinched. She didn't let him pull away. Her forehead rested on his, and she took a deep calming breath. Her eyes closed. She was showing him how much she trusted him, and she hoped that if she stayed like this for a while, breathing slowly, that he would calm down. What she hoped for turned out a bit different than what she got. He took a deep breath as well, but it hissed through his teeth, like he was in pain. It dragged into his throat, and then sounded like it was stuck there. He pulled in more air, only for it to choke him. She pulled away, suddenly alarmed. His eyes were closed, but they trembled beneath his eyelids. His breath continued to hitch, and she saw that he was swallowing hard. When she had pulled away to look at him, he ducked his head like he was hiding from her. It was only when the first hot drop fell on her naked knee that she knew what was happening. He was crying. Her heart seized up in her chest. She had never thought this could happen. She knew almost everyone cried, but it had been so hard to imagine Vegeta doing it. It seemed like such a weak thing for him to do. And when he slumped forward, his face in her chest, she wrapped her arms around his neck, hands deep in his hair. It was the only thing she could think of to do.

"Oh, Vegeta…" She whispered. He made a sound like a hiccup, like he was still struggling to breathe. Then she knew what to do.

"It's okay," she whispered in her most comforting voice.

"You can let go...just let it happen…" The moment she said this, a sob erupted from him. It was as if he was letting all the pain inside him come out at once. His body curled into hers, and he wept violently. The breath caught in Bulma's throat, and although she knew she needed to be the strong one, her own tears streamed unbidden down her cheeks, landing in his thick hair. He convulsed like his body was being tortured. It was horrible to watch. But she held on to him, slowly rocking him back and forth, like she did for Trunks when he cried. She couldn't imagine what was going to happen after this. Would he be ashamed? Would he leave again? She couldn't imagine him reacting any other way. How could they come back from this? She'd let the Prince of Saiyan sob into her chest like a baby. Surely he couldn't trust her not to tell someone.

But after a long time, his body quieted. His breathing was shaky, but it didn't sound as thick. She held on to him, afraid to look in his eyes. For some reason, she thought he'd be angry. Angry at letting himself act so weak in front of her. For flaying his soul open for her to examine so openly. As she waited, he kept his head down. After a while, it almost seemed like he was asleep. Then, ever so slowly, he brought his face up. His eyes didn't look directly at her, but behind her. They seemed glazed over, and unfocused. Before she could say anything, she felt his lips on hers, feather soft. It was the lightest kiss he'd ever given her. No lust behind it. It was a thank you. He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes again. She noticed the skin around them was pink and raw. Her heart squeezed again. His voice came to her softly, in the gentlest whisper she had heard from him.

"I...I don't have...anyone...Anywhere to…"

"You have me, Vegeta. And you have Trunks. We're your family." He made a choking sound again, and she was learning that it was because he was grateful.

"You can stay here with us. We want you to." Her arms, still around his neck, squeezed tightly.

"We can start over again, Vegeta…"

"Bulma…" The way he said her name was agonizing. "I don't...think...I can." She pulled away from him then, grabbing his face in her hands firmly.

"Yes, you can. I know it." She said. He looked away, an almost angry flush coming to his face.

"Why do you think I got involved with you in the first place, huh? I knew there was another version of you in there." But as she continued to talk, he started to pull away. First with his face, and then with his body. He slid backward on the bed, but didn't stand up to leave. He seemed like he wanted to, but then he looked at his legs in dismay, like they had betrayed him. He had no more energy to fight her. She knew it was hard for him to believe that she had so much faith in him, when he didn't even believe in himself anymore. He used to be believe that he had so much power, but he would never believe that he could come out of the rut that Frieza had put him in. He almost seemed disgusted that she could think so. And she knew it was because she hadn't seen what he had done. Surely, if she knew the extent of what he had done under the service of Frieza, she wouldn't want to know him at all, let alone have faith that he could be a decent person.

He looked slumped over and dejected. Bulma crawled over to him carefully, then lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Okay, I'll shut up for now." She smiled at him. He was taken aback by this reaction, his eyes widening. Then suddenly, a slow crooked grin broke out on his face.

"You are impossible, woman." He said it in such a fond way that she blushed. She leaned into him, kissing his cheek.

"I know. But I really did mean all of it. Every word."

"That's why you're impossible." His smile turned into a frown, but his tone stayed amused.

"But...I'll stay. I have nowhere to go anyway. And you're the only person who remotely tolerates me."

"It's more than that, Vegeta."

"Hn. I know." He pulled her close to him then, and she let him. The lay down together, and after a while, Bulma drew the blankets over them. Vegeta looked to tired to be intimate, and she knew he wasn't in the right mood for it. But she stayed next to him, watching him fall asleep. It took some time for her to fall asleep as well, and the last thing she remembered was her hands stroking his dark hair, over and over again. He was sleeping with her, and he was going to stay.