Recap: Bulma is reeling from her perceived transgressions against Vegeta. Gohan may have to go it alone with his scientific and political plans. Goku is on the hunt, while an imprisoned Piccolo patiently listens to the activities around him.

Gohan had experienced much worse, obviously. Multiple near-death experiences throughout one's life were expert teachers of resilience. He wouldn't allow this development with Bulma to rattle him. Possible psychosis was nothing to play with, though. He had been calculating from the moment they began working together on the experiments, but even he had his limits. He refused to take blame for Bulma's current condition yet, although his other mental manipulation techniques may have worsened a deeper psychological problem that had long been there. Regardless of their greater goals, he had never intended to hurt her.

That's what he made himself believe.

He wouldn't accept Vegeta's or Goku's accusations that helping Bulma was reckless and disregarded the potentially harmful outcomes. He had tried control them within the range of his experience – to prevent the worst possible outcomes. Bulma already wanted a closer connection with her husband. He just supported her acceptance that she wanted far beyond that, and that Vegeta would eventually follow along. She didn't have to be ashamed. No matter how much Vegeta suppressed his true nature, Gohan knew that it was a matter of time that Bulma's influence would bear fruit.

That's what he made himself believe.

Bulma sat hunched on the examination table, waiting for Gohan to draw blood. They were walking through most of the standard regimen: checking vital signs, examining her eyes and reflexes. Gohan hesitated on doing a basic MRI brain scan this time, preferring to have other experienced professionals examine her. He had left the room earlier to quietly observe her mannerisms. She was murmuring – perseverating. His fine-tuned Saiyan hearing processed the message: "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

His eyes moved from the old-fashioned blood pressure cuff encircling Bulma's arm to her mildly shaking hands. He pressed a stuffed cat between her fingers to still them, much like he did lovingly when Pan was younger. Bulma looked down, appreciating how soft the child's toy felt.

"We can't keep secrets, you know, Cress."

"That's bullshit," she said. Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "You don't tell me everything in your life."

"Give me your right arm." Gohan tapped on her vein, where he inserted a needle to draw blood. "Okay, let me rephrase that. We can't keep secrets about where we go from here. So let's try again. Tell me what happened before you arrived. You risk bringing attention to yourself if there's a problem we can fix now." Bulma refused to make eye contact until Gohan lifted her chin. "What? What are you ashamed of?"

Bulma sighed as he stared into her eyes, waiting patiently for an answer. His touch felt gentle, comforting her much like Vegeta had many times. She looked away, putting the toy aside to hold Gohan's hand. "Something is wrong with me, Kaleb. I was on top of the world this morning at home, and then I crashed – hard."

"Like what? Did you hurt someone?"

Bulma closed her eyes. "I hurt him." Her body began to rock.

"You hurt, Vegeta?" He swallowed, steadying himself. "Or did you hurt one of the boys?"

"No! Who else, Kaleb? I keep hurting husband. I keep hurting Vegeta. He doesn't deserve any of this. I only wanted… I only wanted…"

"Stop right there," Gohan said softly. "Whatever it is that you think you did, I'd advise you to question whether it really happened."

"Excuse me?" Despite sounding surprised, Bulma understood what Gohan meant, and he was likely correct. He figured out much quicker than she was willing to admit the problem to herself.

"You aren't a physician like me, but I know you're probably aware of what this is," he said, "but we're still guessing. You need a complete neurological evaluation again to confirm. How long have you had these symptoms?"

Bulma told him enough, saying how they began weeks before her grand mal seizure, and taking care to avoid telling him about drugging Vegeta and what she did afterward. She feared that she would, though, hoping that her mind wouldn't tear down a barrier she didn't want shattered. How could everything go downhill this quickly? Her kids. Her husband. Vegeta was right. Maybe she had been a fool.

No, she refused to believe that yet. However, she was making more poor decisions, ones that a woman of her vast talents shouldn't.

Gohan activated the control panel to view her cerebral images. "I have to admit that I'm angry, Cress. You should have told me from the beginning when you first noticed the tiniest symptoms. It's possible that the experiment may have caused these problems late-stage, but we can't be sure. You had brain scans before we began working together, and the one you had before the seizure looked fine, according to these records you provided. When are you scheduled to see your medical team's neurologists again for follow-up?"

"Two days from now."

Gohan crossed his arms staring at the screen. He still wanted to know exactly what happened but ruled out prodding her more. He didn't want her mental condition to decompensate further. "You may need to return to the hospital," he said, turning around. "You know that, especially if what you're experiencing is some form of cyclical psychosis. It will only get worse unless you receive proper treatment. We need to know the cause. I'll find a way to keep tabs on your condition without being exposed. Trust me on that."

Bulma adjusted her clothing – her disguise – and grabbed the toy. "So, what shall we do now, smarty pants?" She smiled faintly, trying to reassure Gohan that she could keep her composure. Then, a smirking image of Vegeta in his blue battle suit emerged from the wall. She shut her eyes.

"What?" Gohan held out his hand. "Are you feeling something? Seeing something?"

"I just need to get out of here, Kaleb."

"You cannot leave alone. Your car is capsulized?"

"Yes."

"We'll go somewhere secluded where your sister can pick you up. Tell her what you told me as soon as she finds you. I will stay until she arrives. If you mistakenly say you were with me, so be it. And remember, you may believe you've done something terrible that you didn't. It's clear that you didn't physically harm anyone in your family, then – thank goodness - so that's my standard for now."

Bulma nodded, but Gohan's idea of physical harm differed from hers. Suddenly it dawned on her that she could investigate what she did earlier. She would check the video in the master bedroom. No matter what she and Vegeta did in there sexually, the recorder stayed on, which they were comfortable with. If someone attacked them, undeniable evidence would be available and sent elsewhere. However, the intelligent device was also equipped to cut out parts of the recordings to focus solely on recognizable, direct threats.

"I'll be okay," she said as Gohan hugged her. "I have to be okay."

"We'll all be okay," he said soothingly. "You, especially. I know the real you, Cress, just like Vegeta does."

Bulma held on tight as if her life depended on it. Gohan knew her reaction was borne from stress – nothing more – but his chest heaved from arousal. She even had a different scent now. His hand pressed firmly into the small of her back this time, until her breathing slowed. "How are you feeling now?"

"Better." She looked up at him. "Thank you for this."

He opened the door. "Let's go then. I still think you're disguised well enough to avoid being recognized."

Gohan recalled Vegeta's anger-fueled "snap" at the hospital. There, with his hand gripping Gohan's neck, the hungry look in the prince's eyes and his words sounded like the proud, unapologetic warrior the younger man once knew. However absurd it seemed, Gohan thought Vegeta was more in control that day than either Goku than Tights gave him credit for. He had considered options to speed up Vegeta's personality change, but Bulma's earlier warning had given him pause. He knew what she meant. The prince was far from ready for being pushed more without careful planning. Bulma said once that Vegeta had spoken excitedly of Planet Sadal. How could the prince not be convinced once he had faith that the same conditions could be duplicated on this planet? They just needed more time. They were so close.

As Kaleb, Gohan fully accepted that he wasn't delusional. He may have struggled to accept his true identity, one that had been locked away far too long, but he knew exactly what he was doing from day one. If anything, he had become more narcissistic, something Bulma had never been – at least at first. Now, she struggled with controlling her reactions. He wasn't. He had no psychosis: no significant auditory disturbances; no lack of self-awareness; no confused wavering. Bulma had these symptoms and needed treatment, not him.

No, not him. Sure, he had seen and heard Kaleb "outside of himself," but that was different. He had not been unclear or unsure of anything he'd done. However emotionally shaken he had been at times, if he were tried in a court of law, the judge and jury would rule that his actions were premeditated – intentional.

Tights was angry when Bulma called her. No, she was irate – hotter than a nest of killer bees. Her sister had been acting strangely, yes, but now this? She hadn't told Vegeta that she was leaving? How many times had she done this? Vegeta had accepted that Bulma needed to make these little trips now, even though neither he nor Tights felt completely comfortable about it. But Bulma was an adult, and the secluded nature spots where Vegeta took her had become less exciting. Perhaps they had been far too restrictive, fearing too much that Bulma would suffer a severe relapse. Of course a strong-willed woman like her sister would stubbornly reject being contained too long, although her indifference about having friends around often hadn't changed.

Bulma didn't leave her car after her sister parked on the roadside. She didn't even open the window at first, wondering whether Tights should know about her visit with Gohan.

"Honey, let me in," Tights said, tapping on the window. "What's going on? Did someone recognize you?"

Looking dazed, Bulma unlocked the passenger door. "No. I was careful, but I need you to drive me home."

"Are you not feeling well?" Tights moved closer to observe her. "Are you in pain?"

Bulma head gradually turned aside. "I think I'm experiencing some form of psychosis and have been for a while. I need to be examined," she said flatly. "I'm losing track of time, and I'm seeing and hearing things. Some of these problems began before the big seizure."

"It's okay." Tights laid Bulma's head on her shoulder. "We can stay here for a while. Seeing and hearing things like what?"

"Images of people emerging from walls. Just hearing strange voices and off-pitch sounds sometimes. I had been okay mostly since I got home from the hospital, with some weird stuff occasionally, but now…" She clutched her sister's hands. "You had to notice something off with me, right? The mood swings, I mean. Earlier this morning my mind raced through these huge plans, and it just kept going. Then I practically tackled Vegeta for sex, after using my power to blow a hole through a can outside. I wanted to keep his attention."

Tights worked to remain calm. The part about Bulma using her "powers" unsettled her. She would ask Vegeta about that later. "Well, in some ways I noticed, but we've all been under high stress. You were in a drug-induced coma for a long time. Your brain chemistry was altered, and you just had a child…and…"

"And I tampered with my body."

"Your hormones are probably raging like wildfire," Tights replied, overlooking the comment. "Unfortunately, all of these reactions have likely become the perfect storm. Having monitored your bloodwork the last several months, I hadn't found any extreme surges of hormonal activity since your body transformed. That's been my biggest worry – that you would have another seizure resulting from those kind of changes. A brain scan may tell us more as well, along with other tests. Anything else I should know?"

Bulma sighed. "How am I going to face my family again? My children and husband will be frightened of me. What if I'm capable of harming them like I did with Iris?" Pointless question, she thought. She had to see the video soon. If she had more uncontrolled symptoms, what would she say? Would the truth be revealed before she could prepare Vegeta? He couldn't learn of this while she wasn't in her right mind. Her husband was the strongest, sturdiest man she had ever known, but testing his love and patience was taking its toll on him.

Tights kissed her hands. "You'll face them with me by your side, honey. We can treat this problem. I believe we can figure out the cause. You're speaking clearly to me now. Also, I doubt Vegeta would fear you."

Bulma entered her sister's car while Tights capsulized hers. Gohan emerged from a thicket shortly thereafter, watching them speed away. He had to quickly and carefully consider his options, which were decreasing, but he couldn't give up. Another man he was experimenting on was almost ready for unveiling, and this time he felt assured that this test subject wouldn't experience the same trauma Bulma had.

He would have his cult. He would have it. If he had to be the chief missionary for their noble cause without Bulma's financial and emotional support, then so be it. Other self-interested people – rich ones – would support his efforts, and once Vegeta saw the benefits he wouldn't turn away either. Gohan recalled three events that convinced him: when Vegeta first met Goku and arrogantly invited him to join him, instead of staying on Earth; when golden Frieza was resurrected and invited Vegeta to be his right-hand commander; and, of course, when Vegeta courted possession. No matter what the prince did to portray himself differently, Gohan knew the siren song of power had never left the man's mind.

Nope, he wasn't delusional. His hypothesis would be proven correct. He pulled his coat in tighter as the wind blew wispy snow clouds around his legs.

The baby's eyes studied the tiny balls of ki on fingers moving overhead, until he reached for them. He squealed with mild frustration when the pretty lights extinguished.

"No, not yet." Trunks smiled as Sorrel stared curiously at him. "Soon enough, little prince. You've done well." He stood back, removing a pair of white gloves from his pocket. Eyebrows dropping, he scowled and wagged his finger. "Hn. Disgraceful. You're allowing your good-for-nothing, mop-haired brother bully you, boy. No Saiyan son of mine will go through life unable to defend himself. I will only say this once!"

Wiping tears from his eyes, Trunks laughed uproariously. "I think I impersonated our tyrannical father well, Sorrel." Expecting his brother to pick him up, the baby clapped unsteadily at the spectacle. Trunks often noticed small changes in Sorrel's development – good ones - before his parents did sometimes. Such was the case today. He had been concerned when Bulma left earlier. Her overall expression looked calm, but her eyes darted as if she was anticipating something. She broke down and admitted her desire to be in the lab for a while, and then she just wanted to be free to roam away from home. It didn't matter where she went. She promised Trunks that she would be careful and well-disguised. Her clothes and head coverings were stuffed into a bag that she retrieved from a closet in the kitchen. Luckily, even though her hair had changed, it wasn't long. The texture had also softened somewhat.

She said Vegeta had been awake with her earlier and that they would discuss her trip later. Hearing that rankled Trunks. Why didn't she simply tell Vegeta about her plans then? Bulma said she chose between letting him sleep restfully or not. Both parents were put through their paces tending to Sorrel at night, but Vegeta seemed to be taking the worst of it lately, considering that his chronic insomnia had returned. Bulma, on the other hand, had been living definition of kinetic energy. But there had been moments when Trunks caught her staring blankly into space. Occasionally she had a drafting book, which she would quickly close when anyone approached, as if no one would notice. On any given day she could be highly irritable, too, sometimes leaving the room to tend to a headache. She was having more of them. Then she would sleep, at times staying in bed for hours. Vegeta fed Sorrel on these days, using Bulma's stored breast milk or special baby formula, or Trunks fed the child.

Their parents hadn't been sleeping as much in same room again either. Trunks almost felt like he had to hold everyone together this time. His sister alternated between clinging to their father, which Vegeta tried to wean her from, and keeping herself entertained without caring whether anyone else desired her company, especially Bulma. Trunks knew this hurt their mother, but he continued assuring Bulma that this would pass. It had to.

Sorrel's belly was full now, so he put him down for a while. He also wondered where Vegeta was. The sun set almost three hours ago. It may have been the weekend, but his father rarely didn't check in when he expected to be late. Trunks punched his watch to check the two gravity training rooms and the obstacle course outside. Nothing. He couldn't even feel Vegeta's ki signature at first. How weird. His father almost never concealed that from him these days, unless he was testing his reflexes. Trunks could almost always feel something regardless. He walked the hallways, checking the guest rooms. Then, he felt it. Why was it so muted? Vegeta had to be sleeping hard.

He knocked hesitantly. "Papa, are you all right?" He opened the door of the master bedroom and stood within its frame. Vegeta was still asleep. Trunks looked at his watch. "Papa?" Vegeta stirred mildly in bed but didn't respond. Trunks observed the opposite nightstand, where two glass mugs sat. Both were empty, except for stray tea leaves stuck to the bottom.

Trunks approached Vegeta's side of the bed. "Hey, general. Wake up for me." He shook him harder. "Hey, can you hear me?"

"What?" Vegeta said grouchily. His eyelids barely opened. "What… do… you want?"

"Uh, I'm just seeing if you still have a pulse, dude," Trunks said, smiling with relief. His father's energy was definitely stronger than before. "You haven't left this room all day."

"So what?" Vegeta used his arm to rub his eyes. "Aren't you happy that I'm getting sleep? I didn't even need those pills you and your aunt tried to push on me like drug dealers. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to get more rest."

Trunks frowned. "Papa, come on. You never sleep this long, insomnia or not. Maybe it's time to get up. Your speech is a bit slurred. That should tell you something."

"For fuck's sake, boy." Vegeta pulled himself up. "I am… rather fond of you, but that's rapidly ending." He realized that he had moved too fast. He felt nauseated as he tried focusing on Trunks' face. "Get me some soda water from the fridge in the alcove."

"What's going on?" Trunks eyes quickly zeroed in Vegeta's pupils, which were as large as dimes. Being a chemistry lover, he was knowledgeable of several substances - legal and illegal- that could cause this condition. "You don't look like you're feeling well. Can you get up?"

Vegeta thumped his son's leg. "Just get the water. I'm parched. I'll get up…up…in a little while, okay? I have slept like this before, though not often. That's what exhaustion does. Where is your mother?"

Trunks' feet shuffled. "Let me get that water. You need it. I'll be right back."

"Sit down, Trunks." Vegeta squinted at him. "God, you're so…so… terrible at this sometimes. I can wait. You interrupted the best sleep I've had in months, so… there must be a reason, and you didn't answer my question. Where is your mother?"

Trunks looked skyward. Maybe he shouldn't have disturbed his father.

"Well?" Vegeta leaned forward. "We don't have all damned day. Spit it out." He then observed the baby monitor. Sorrel was cooing.

"Hi, sweet boy." Bulma said. Her voice was low. "Mama's home."

Even in his drowsiness, Vegeta recognized that she had been crying. Trunks, who hadn't figured that out yet, handed him a robe and slippers. "Leave me for a few minutes. I need to wash up briefly. Also, wait until I see what's happening your mother first before going in."

"Sure. Whatever you want."

Vegeta sat down as soon as Trunks departed. "Damn it." He still felt queasy. "This is crazy." But he had slept well, without any interruptions. He needed it. Making love to Bulma finally smashed the emotional dam blocking his ability to rest, he thought.

His walked slowly to the bathroom staring down at his watch. It was 8:35 p.m., which surprised him a bit. He glanced at the baby monitor with his peripheral vision. Tights was with Bulma now. Then, the sound muted. Why would they do that? He immediately straightened himself. He was tempted to activate the video screen in the baby's room, and soon gave in to that desire. "Why did you shut off the sound?" he said abruptly. "Is there something you don't want me to hear?"

Tights, who was holding Sorrel, received Vegeta's interruption solemnly. Her lavender eyes focused on his the same way when Bulma's doctors put her into a coma. His wife sat in the rocking chair on the other end of the room.

"Tights, leave us alone together in the room when I get there," he said. "Take our son with you."

"Vegeta, we should talk first."

"I'm only going to repeat this once. Let Bulma tell me the problem in her own words."

"Please." Tights' voice trembled slightly. "She's struggling right now."

"Okay. I'll be there in five minutes." Confusion swept through his mind. What happened between this morning and now? He couldn't enter the room looking a total mess, though. Worse, he felt like throwing up. What a terrible time to come down with a wretched human illness, he thought. While rare, the few he caught over the years had been utterly miserable. Breathing rapidly, he clutched his stomach and vomited. "Shit. What in the hell is wrong with me?"

"It's been long enough. We need to find Piccolo."

"I know, Dende," Goku said. "I have been to New Namek now. I didn't tell them directly why I was visiting at first, but you Namekians aren't easily fooled."

Dende smiled briefly, penetrating his face's thick layer of seriousness. "I didn't see anything nefarious when I checked on Gohan last, but I have other duties to fulfill at the Lookout, Goku. I can't watch your or Vegeta's or Krillin's family consistently. If there's something dangerous abreast - beyond normal, destructive human behavior - I would probably catch wind of it. But I'm still just a watcher and a healer, primarily."

Goku sat cross-legged in front of him. "Piccolo agreed that I couldn't be around when he appealed to Gohan."

Dende nodded. "Yes, and he told me to avoid watching them spar or monitoring their ki levels in Break Wasteland, if they were able to fight."

"Which they did," Goku said. "I'm sure they did that." He knew his son and Piccolo hadn't fought at their full base power levels. Piccolo didn't want to be found easily. If Goku and Vegeta focused hard enough, they still would have been able to find them. Piccolo also said that he would leave immediately for New Namek if he failed to keep Gohan's attention, and would be there for months. Their ki levels dropped as soon as the fight began, leading Goku to think, incorrectly, that Piccolo hadn't achieved his goal. He figured Gohan had lost enthusiasm, rejecting yet another person trying to figure him out.

Goku didn't think his friend was even capable of telling untruths now, especially after his fusion years ago with the honorable Kami, formerly Earth's guardian, and Nail, the powerful Namekian warrior. But Piccolo had lied, kind of. Now the pensive Saiyan had to figure out why.

"Visit the Wasteland," Dende said, purposely disrupting Goku's thoughts. "I have not flown the Lookout above there recently."

"Don't worry, Dende. That's where I'm headed next."

Being who he was, Piccolo was less angry than disgusted and disappointed. His pupil and longtime friend made several stupid strategic mistakes the night they fought, including drugging him. Piccolo still heard enough until losing complete consciousness. He heard Gohan appealing for forgiveness; he had fallen into a dark place, but the source wasn't supernatural. Piccolo had to figure out why.

He later found himself sealed and restrained in clear hyperbaric chamber when he regained some awareness. The restraints were designed to keep his body drained of energy, which he definitely felt. However, the drug hadn't been strong or long-lasting to remain effective. His mouth was also bound and gagged, and his eyes were covered. He could hear everything, though. He was in a lab, probably in the Wasteland, he figured. He also wasn't afraid, knowing that Goku would look for him eventually, even though he had lied to. He could have tried harder to free himself, too, but he gambled instead on learning more about Gohan's activities. A person entered the lab occasionally to inspect the surroundings. The man muttered, cursing about Gohan's instructions not to overmedicate Piccolo.

This bumbling, mush-mouthed fool clearly didn't know what the hell he was doing, either.

How could Gohan entrust someone like this with his welfare? Had he lost his mind? Piccolo heard the young man sigh and then chuckle. Now he was talking to him – a barely conscious mortal. The guy sounded lonely and sad. Gohan had promised a better life, he said, and that he had been "a nobody since childhood." He said his dead mother would probably spit in his face for what he'd done, collecting bodies the way he had.

Piccolo decided then that he would wait a while longer. He couldn't control the man's mind, but he could scare the hell out of him using telepathy. Again, his anger flared. How could Gohan be this foolish? After everything he Goku, and Vegeta taught him? A wiser man would have kept him unconscious and barely breathing as long as necessary. It sounded absurd, but this was Piccolo's normal thinking. He was a warrior after all. Whatever Gohan was up to would backfire spectacularly if this behavior continued. Worse, there was no doubt now that Bulma was too important to Gohan's plans. Above other concerns, that shook Piccolo. Vegeta had already surpassed several levels of strength. He had changed, but some darkness remained with him too. No one could tell Piccolo otherwise. The gods, who was mercifully granted Vegeta another chance, never said that side had been fully erased. The prince had merely demonstrated, most honorably, that he could be better than what he had been - in the most selfless way possible. They also recognized his unique brand of usefulness, as he inspired fighters and non-fighters to pursue excellence.

But if the prince reverted, and there was no chance of helping him reclaim his mind, Vegeta expected the Z-fighters to do everything possible to either neutralize or kill him outright without hesitation. He demanded it, and everyone understood. There would be no mass deaths by his hands. Piccolo also expected others to do the same for him, if he took the same route, since he was just as capable. He was getting ahead of himself, though. First things first.

"You should be careful talking to the dead, kid. It could get you eaten alive."

"What the fuck is this?!" Arms flailing, the young man twirled like a confused dog. The husky voice rocked his eardrums. "What the fuck is this? Who the fuck is this?"

"This is your fucking conscience." Piccolo said sarcastically. "Say hello, because we're going to have a friendly chat. Now sit down!"

Tights lingered by the entrance as Vegeta entered. She managed to speak with him beforehand. He was moving much slower than normal and didn't look well. She automatically knew the difference being distraught and just plain sick. That concerned her. She picked up Sorrel and left the room, as he requested.

Vegeta knelt next to Bulma, taking her hand. "I…I don't understand." He looked down. "I should have known. The signs were there. You behaved strangely like this weeks before the seizure. Tights says this may be some kind of psychosis, as she calls it, which might have happened anyway, experiment or not. Your powers…"

Bulma shook her head. "Yes, I know may be a danger to everyone now. I am dangerous."

"No, you're not." Vegeta insisted. "You're just unwell. This is a setback. We've conquered countless ones. You were well enough to seek Tights' help when you needed it. I am pleased about that, and you have tended to our baby well throughout."

"Maybe not as well as you." Bulma felt another headache approaching. "I want…I want to lie down, Vegeta." His image appeared again on the opposite wall, this time sneering and laughing, which she heard this time. Her eyes drifted between the real man and the imaginary one.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" the real Vegeta said. "Bulma?"

"Just get me to our bedroom." She had to keep her wits. "I'll be fine alone for a while. I'm sleepy."

Vegeta sat on the bedside when they arrived. "I'll return. Tights and I need to talk more."

Bulma's mind spun in circles again, but she had to hold herself together. She had drugged Vegeta. That was clear, based on his appearance, but she had to know if the unthinkable happened. Her unsteady fingers punched the code for video replay. Indeed, her husband had been sound asleep while she sat on the bedside. But she just sat there, lost inside of her head until she snapped out of it, became frightened, and rushed from the room.

"Oh, my god." She buried her face in her palms, crying. "I didn't rape my husband. I didn't rape my husband. Thank you, universe. Thank you so much." Watching herself lose touch with reality on video to that degree was terrifying. She had entered a depersonalized mental state that morning. What if this happened with Sorrel? Maybe she had an episode already, possibly endangering him. She curled into a tight ball on the bed, waiting for her family to return.

Then, Vegeta's image reappeared on the wall, clapping slowly . It was mocking her. "Aw, isn't that sweet. You think you're off the hook now? You're making a fool out of him! What about that little drugging incident? That was all you, Bulma. You knew what you were doing. No one forced you."

"Go away. I had…I had to see Kaleb."

This unforgiving hallucination rose over her. "For what? World domination? You can forget that. Vegeta barely wants to sleep next to you most days, let alone build a new kingdom on this miserable planet. Give up this charade before he kills Gohan – because that's what the man's name is – or hurts someone else. Another thing: You can't hide what happened to your precious, long-suffering husband forever. It will come out, and that's the end of your marriage." Maniacal laughed filled the room. His eyes assaulted hers with images of Vegeta's past.

"Leave me alone!" Bulma covered her ears and screamed. "Leave me alone! Go away! Go away!"

Vegeta and Tights ran into the room, followed by Trunks, whose face collapsed from shock and hurt. "Please, no more," he thought. "No more, especially not for my father."

"Watch your brother," Vegeta said, facing him. His voice was firm and sympathetic. "Can you do that for me?"

Trunks raked his fingers through his hair and exhaled. "I will."

"Don't… don't you go soft on me, boy, okay?" Vegeta grabbed the back of his son's neck gently, pausing to catch his breath. "Remember what we've discussed, and I still need a decent sparring partner besides your sister. You're all I've got, unfortunately. Now get going. We'll explain everything later. Your mother will be fine."

Trying to smile somewhat, Trunks cleared his throat. "I believe you. You're usually right, I hate to admit."

For all of Vegeta's toughness and seemingly boundless strength, watching his son leave like that again pierced his soul. Trunks never saw his possession, thankfully. Bulma's condition differed, but watching one's mother deteriorate remained a special kind of hell. Trunks and Bulma had adored each other. Vegeta remembered when he learned how his mother suffered and died. He was grateful he didn't see it. After years of abuse under Frieza's tyrannical rule, this final revelation hardened the prince's spirits entirely, until he met and married his wife.

Tights was able to calm Bulma enough to summon ambulance transport. Vegeta sat in front while his wife rocked in her sister's arms.

"I'm sorry, Vegeta," Bulma moaned. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are," he said. "I'm sorry too." Then reality hit him. He stared sharply at Tights before opening a telepathic connection. "Did you know about this?"

Tights looked up. "About what? Why aren't we speaking out loud?"

Vegeta's eyes darkened with submerged rage and disappointment. "She saw him, damn it! She saw Gohan!"

Notes: So, I'll tackle the Piccolo side first. Why has Goku waited so long to chase him down? Well, Goku does rely on his instincts a lot, though he has been wrong many times. But he trusts and respects Piccolo's reasoning, which he's observed and admired for years. Gohan needs someone who can stop him from running away from himself, his father believes. While disappointed, Goku accepts that he isn't the one who can do that now. Regarding Vegeta and Bulma, yeah, they're at a horrible crossroads - but like Krillin said earlier, they still have friends.