CHAPTER 3

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THE PAST FEW weeks had been hell. Vegeta was quite annoyed with himself, for letting it get to him. He needed space and time to be by himself for a while...to train, to think, to let that damn woman calm down. But he even missed the damn brat. He couldn't believe how much he longed for Trunks to interrupt him in the middle of his training, begging for attention.

Which is exactly why it was a good thing he left. To let himself think that way...no, to let himself feel that way was inexcusable. He knew more than anyone that no matter how stable something seemed to be, how comfortable and secure, it never really was.

And his last fight with Bulma proved that to him.

He'd left Piccolo after giving him a good thrashing and was now flying about to find a place to crash for a while. He settled on a small cave in a mountain where he proceeded to make a fire, to keep the place warm for the night.

The sky rapidly darkened and was completely shrouded in black, but at least the cave was bathed with warm firelight. Vegeta made himself a small bed of leaves and sat on it, while staring broodingly into the fire.

Their fight had started innocently enough. They had been settling down to sleep, and just as he'd made himself comfortable underneath the covers, Bulma began to speak. Her voice had sounded thoughtful, but it had a sort of rehearsed quality to it -- as if the thought had been mulling over her head for quite a while.

"You know," Bulma began, while casually brushing her now-shoulder-length blue hair, "Trunks is growing up so fast. I can barely keep up."

Vegeta put his hands behind his head, and looked ahead at nothing in particular. "You shouldn't coddle him anymore. He can handle himself."

"I do not 'coddle' him!" Bulma protested, sitting on the bed, continuing to brush her hair. "It's just... I don't know. Trunks and I used to talk a lot, and spend time together. But now-- all he wants to do is fight with Goten, or train with you, or... anything BUT talk to me!"

Vegeta spared her a glance. "What is it with Human mothers and their tendency to 'talk' to their children? Look at Gohan," Vegeta paused to shudder theatrically, "Wasted potential there. All because his half-witted mother talked to him too damned much."

"Sorry for being Human!" Bulma retorted, sarcastically. "But the way things go around here, Vegeta, mothers actually care about their children enough to find about their thoughts and feelings."

Vegeta shrugged, again. In Vegetasei, most children were petri-dish specimens and developed outside of their mother's womb and in vessels, instead. Since he was royalty, his mother carried him to term -- a stronger child was made that way -- but he'd never had any contact with her, not that he remembered. And he'd done fine.

"Whatever."

Bulma frowned, ignoring Vegeta's dismissal. "I've also noticed that Trunks is becoming more and more obsessed with the idea of siblings. On the off times he actually speaks to me, he tells me in not-so-many words that he's sometimes envious of the fact that Goten has Gohan for an older brother, and how Gokuu-san would play with them a lot, too." She gave him a pointed look. "Maybe particularly because he doesn't get enough support from certain fathers at home!"

Vegeta closed his eyes. He didn't want to fight on the subject of his competency as a father, again. The topic came up quite frequently, and he was tired of it. However, instead of starting a tirade of the usual criticisms, Bulma suggested abruptly,

"What do you think of giving Trunks a younger brother or sister?"

With that, Vegeta's eyes flew open and he stared at Bulma in shock. So that's why she was -- But that couldn't be... he would have been able to tell, the same way he knew when she was pregnant with Trunks.

"You're not pregnant, are you?"

"NO!" Bulma exclaimed, crossing her arms. "And why do you look so horrified with the idea of me being pregnant?"

"Another brat to bring to the world?" He shook his head. "We already have Trunks."

"Trunks is not a 'brat' -- he's your son," she waved the tip of her hairbrush at him, "And YES, we already have Trunks, and he is wonderful, but wouldn't another child be wondeful, too?"

Vegeta regarded Bulma's face as it softened and lit up while she spoke of another child. Vegeta faced that with conflicting emotions. He hadn't been around when Trunks was developing and born – not necessarily because of choice, but of neccessity. He'd been training to defeat the various threats to Earth, who had been possibly able to destroy the world. That was more important than monitoring Bulma and Trunks' progress. He was glad of it, actually, because his relationship with Bulma at that time had been very volatile... he didn't have the time time or luxury to think about what he felt about his future child and his mother.

If Bulma was to get pregnant now, he would be there the entire time. He would be around to watch her grow bigger as their child brew, he would be there when their child was brought into the world. All at the same time, Vegeta was anxious and excited about what that would entail, since he missed the opportunity with Trunks.

"Yeah, great," Vegeta said, half-sarcastically.

"Two children!" Bulma breathed. "Like what I dreamed of in my perfect family." She gave him another look and a mock sigh. "My 'dream husband' on the other hand, was just that--a dream."

Vegeta snorted and pulled Bulma on his lap, with one hand. "Dream husband...dream family. What's wrong with reality?" He grinned devilishly and kissed her soundly on the mouth. He could feel her smile beneath the kiss and she sighed and laid her head on his chest.

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with reality," she said softly, while running the tip of her finger along his strong jaw. She was silent for a few moments, and Vegeta revelled in it. She was so annoyingly chatty at times... however, whenever she fell silent, it also meant she was thinking. And when she was thinking...

"Don't you think it's time we get married?"

Vegeta stiffened. There it was. That was what Bulma was warming up to. He wasn't surprised -- the entire week, she'd been dropping hints about families and the "way things ought to be." Then, he'd caught her watching a stupid show on TV called A Wedding Story, which chronicled strangers' weddings. He thought it was a complete waste of time and effort. Why get all dressed up and say a bunch of stupid vows to prove to everyone that the other person is your mate? Sentimental Humans... He didn't have to go through all that to make sure a guy would not look twice at his wife, and every one of their acquiantances knew they were together. It wasn't a secret. He didn't have to get married to ensure Bulma and his own fidelity towards each other. As far as he was concerned, the moment he declared her his mate all those years ago, that was it -- that was enough. What more did she want? A signed decleration in blood?

But it seemed that was exactly what Bulma was asking. Vegeta impatiently went through all the reasons why he thought getting married was a waste of time, and, like he predicted, she over reacted.

Bulma shoved herself up and bounded off the bed, her eyes blazing. "I am fine with not having a dream husband or dream family. That's normal. That's OK. But at least give me a REAL husband."

"Stop fooling yourself, woman. You're a perfectionist. You want to follow your dream, or twist reality until it becomes your dream," Vegeta snapped. "But I AM practically your husband, just without the benefit of that scrap of paper you think is so important."

"It's MORE than a scrap of paper!" Bulma argued. "It's different between two people, once they're married." She shook her head and rubbed her temple with one hand. "The problem is we went on to this the wrong way. We had the baby and the married life BEFORE we got married! I shouldn't have waited. We should have married years ago."

"What's wrong with what we have now? What would a lousy Human marriage change?"

It was probably the wrong thing to say, considering the fact that her colour heightened dangerously and her eyes flooded with tears.

"LOUSY? You call a possible MARRIAGE between us, 'LOUSY!?' You son of a bitch--you just don't CARE, do you?"

Vegeta sighed. "Would you just calm down--"

"I WILL NOT CALM DOWN!" Bulma roared. She gestured wildly between them. "This--this-- THING -- we have, between us ... of all the years we've," she grated the phrase out, "been together, I haven't asked for much. I think I've been a very patient woman with you--"

Vegeta snorted, but she went on.

"-- when you go off to your death matches, and your stupid training trips. With you, abandoning your son and me, in favour for a stupid fight, all the time--EVERY TIME. The most I've ever asked--" The tears began to flow now, "--was a man who would stay and speak to his son, spend time with his son, BE a father to his son, at the VERY LEAST--once in a while. The most I've ever wanted for MYSELF, from YOU, was a HUSBAND. Someone that is definitely, irrevocably bound to me forever. A husband who, once in the while, returned his wife's love. THAT's why I want to get married, Vegeta," she shouted. "That's why. Because, I don't HAVE a husband. I have a man who's never said he loved me, EVER, in all the years we've been together. I have a man who won't talk about our relationship together. Yes, we live under the same house, share a son, share conversation, and make love--" her breath caught. "Although, at times I think you just think it's sex."

A muscle ticked in his cheek. Where the hell did all this come from? He thought he'd been good to her, as best as he could give. He gave his sweat, blood, and yes, even private tears, for the woman who was now more or less accusing him of feeling nothing and doing nothing for her and their son. Apparently, he wasn't enough for her.

"If it was just sex, I would have found a better looking woman a lonnnng time ago," he told her, resorting back to the insulting tactics of their long-ago courtship. He insulted her when he began to lose control, and out of all the things he hated, losing control was what he hated the most.

However, her reaction wasn't typical.

"You see?" she sobbed. "You don't take me seriously at all!" She began to shake with her rage. "You don't care at all, do you? You don't care about ANYTHING, anything but YOURSELF! You don't love your son at all, do you? And you most certainly don't love me."

Hurt. Her words were almost a physical pain. The things he did in the past...all the sacrifices he made for THEM--meant nothing. Vegeta couldn't believe the words she was saying. How could she-- WHY in the world did she think this? Vegeta grew angry and was past caring when he replied, trying to be nonchalant as possible,

"You're right."

Bulma started. That wasn't what she was expecting to hear.

Vegeta swung his legs over the bed and shrugged, staring at her evenly. "You're right, as usual, Bulma." Her eyes widened. He never used her name unless he meant what he was saying.

"All those years ago," he went on, driven by the need to hurt her, to hurt her as much as she did to him, "when we first met-- hell, admit I was desperate. I hadn't had sex for a while, and you were the only half-decent looking woman in the area." He laughed insultingly at her. "Convenient was what you were."

"Why you--" Bulma had paled considerably, but Vejiita refused to look at her while he continued to lie, in his most serious and calm voice.

"And don't deny you were MORE than willing. But, I miscalculated," he could tell the shots he was making were landing on her, so he barrelled on, "And," he shrugged pointedly. "I accidentally made you pregnant." Which was true. He hadn't set out the night Trunks was conceived to make her pregnant, but he'd known about her pregnancy even before she had, and he hadn't been adverse to it as he would have liked. Trunks bound them together by blood. Forever.

"Thank the brat because he was the only reason I even CONSIDERED staying with you," he sneered, then shook his head. "But that was just a waste because I don't care about him except the fact that he's got my royal blood in him. He's just your son."

Vejiita stopped, unable to go on. He'd just vocalized how low Bulma thought of him. Well, damn her. Let her think that. If she really thought that way, it meant that she never really cared for him in the first place -- and once again, he proved himself right. No one should ever let themselves trust anyone but themselves. But out of all his hunches, he'd hoped to hell he had been wrong about this one.

Then, without warning, he saw too late Bulma's fist coming towards his face. Vejiita stumbled against the punch-- not because of feeling any force or pain, but out of shock. She'd hit him. She'd HIT him!

Vejiita blinked, his dark eyes locking with her shining pale ones, and the expression within them broke his heart.

She'd believed him.

She'd believed his lies.

Vejiita clenched his fist, and then saw Bulma's eyes widen with a sliver of fear. It took all of his control to mask his astonishment. She actually thought he would HIT her? In all the years they had been together, he had never EVER touched her in that way. It really showed how little trust she had in him. If she really thought that way all along, she didn't love him at all, despite her claims.

He straightened and stared at her for a heartbeat longer, before turning his heel and heading towards the window. Without any more words, he powered up and flew as far away from Capsule Corp as he could.

Which was where he was now. In a cave, as far away from Capsule Corp as he could have made. And that was exactly where he wanted to be, he told himself firmly. He paused and his mouth twisted.

He might as well fucking admit it. He missed his family. He rolled his eyes. That wasn't so hard to admit, was it? He shook his head. Damn. He was getting so...so... HUMAN.

He absentmindedly flicked at the dirt around him and scratched his chest with the other hand. Married... if it was just some stupid ceremony, why the hell NOT go through with it? Vejiita pondered this, eyes narrowed. It was the PRINCIPLE of the thing, he decided. Bulma just wanted to control him. Wanted to do something so she could twist him around her little finger.

And she obviously didn't trust him -- at all. Grudgingly he admitted he didn't really give her much reassurance in the trust area, but hell-- she was HIS MATE. She should just...well, KNOW.

Know what?

Enough bullshitting, Vejiita thought suddenly, gathering his things. He wasn't about to waste time anymore. This had gone long enough. He was going home. He wanted to assure himself that his son wasn't turning soft in his absence. He was hungry for a good home-cooked meal. He laughed at that. He was so desperate for more edible substances to eat that he briefly considered Bulma's cooking as a "good home-cooked meal."

"Bulma..." he murmured, softly. A vision of blue flitted through his mind. "That woman is going to be the end of me."

He left the cave, confident that when he got home, he'd be welcomed with reluctant, but open arms.

"WHAT'S WRONG, Bulma-dono?" Gureifu asked, noticing the unusually pale color his savior's face donned. He was playing assistant to her current engineering endeavor, and although it was quite informative, he could almost feel the invisible wall she'd erected around herself.

Bulma flashed him a grin, but Gureifu almost automatically sensed its insincerity.

"Nothing. What could possibly be wrong?"

Gureifu was silent for a moment, then, "Perhaps the red wire should be connected to the red outlet instead of the blue."

Bulma stared at him blankly for a moment, then flushed slightly. "Oh, yes, of...of course."

Gureifu's intuition got the better of him. "It's about your son, isn't it?"

Bulma's hands stilled over the mechanism she'd been tinkering with. Without turning her head to look at him, she said, "I never told you I had I son, did I?" Bulma, sharp as always, Gureifu thought admiringly.

"I promised..." Gureifu stopped and sighed. He knew he told the small boy that he wasn't going to tell Bulma he'd seen him, but Bulma deserved to know what sort of mischief her son was in. So, he told a half-lie. "I...overheard from some of the staff." Which was true: he did here some of them discuss Trunks' behaviour.

"I see."

"If...if it isn't too presumptious of me to...ask," Gureifu began, "May I inquire about your husband?"

Bulma let out a snort on that. "Husband? I don't have a husband!"

Gureifu's brows furrowed. "But you have a son..."

Bulma half-smiled. "Yeah, marriage usually goes before the baby, huh? And love goes before that..." Suddenly, Bulma looked ready to cry and Gureifu immediately felt horrible. Her husband must have died. She was a widow! So that was what Trunks meant when his father never really looked after him...

"Forgive me, Bulma-dono, I mean you no distress," Gureifu pleaded, placing a tentative arm on her shoulder. However, instead of calming her down, her shoulders began to shake and her eyes pooled with tears.

"Oh, Gureifu!" Bulma wailed and she threw herself at him. Gureifu stiffened with shock, but the moment he felt her tears penetrate his shirt, his resolve melted and his arms found their way around her slender form.

"Shhhh...shhhh..." Gureifu murmured. Suddenly, Gureifu was back at Vejiitasei, back in his old house. Back to days of immense joy and immense pain. He was holding Waiyn again, soothing her, loving her. Waiyn, with her smooth skin and short, bobbed hair. She had just announced that she'd been ordained by the King to join the Royal Technical Academy. He had been devastated. Joining the Technical Academy meant never seeing her again, always wondering if she was alive and well, or if Vejiita's court decided she was useless and unworthy to live. It had been Gureifu's fault. He should have been the one to be called. He had purposely performed below his capabilities in order to fall beneath the Saiyan radar-- they were always for the lookout for any exceptional scientists, engineers and academics and once found, they either forced them to join the Saiyans or be killed. But either way, most of them ended up dead.

The arms around Bulma tightened as Gureifu was assaulted by the memories, by the pain, by the sorrow. Bulma's sobs slowly subsided and abruptly she pulled away from him, looking embarassed. She wiped her wet cheeks quickly and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, I don't usually fall apart like that," Bulma said, with a watery chuckle. Gureifu studied Bulma intently and was reminded of Waiyn, again-- Bulma reminded him of Waiyn. Both were sharp-witted, academically superb, and more beautiful each passing second. He wished...no. He wasn't meant to be happy.

"No...no, it's quite all right," he managed, finally.

"No, I'm a mess!" Bulma declared, in a voice that dared him to say otherwise. Gureifu smiled. Bulma was always so strong.

"I'm here to listen if you wish to speak," Gureifu went on, gently. Bulma's face was so readable--he immediately saw the conflict flit across her face.

"It's nothing--really," Bulma sniffed. "It's not as devastating as what you've probably have gone through."

"Losing a loved one is always devastating," Gureifu mentioned, quietly. Bulma tilted her head and caught the change in his voice inflection.

"Tell me about it," she said, with a half-laugh. However, Gureifu took her tone seriously.

“Her name was Waiyn.”

Bulma blinked rapidly, confusion on her face. Gureifu smiled faintly.

“My wife. Her name was Waiyn,” Gureifu told her, quietly. Bulma gaped at him, shocked. Gureifu went on, “I lost her to the Saiyajin.”

Bulma tore her gaze away from him, guilt gnawing her insides. “I'm so sorry.”

“Don't,” Gureifu pleaded, misunderstanding Bulma's expression. “It's in the past. It's not your fault.”

Bulma shook her head. “No. It's not that... it's...” She took a deep breath and stared into Gureifu's eyes. “It's complicated.” She bit her lip. “If... if the Saiyajin were still alive, what... what would you do?”

Gureifu shrugged, simply. “Use everything in my power to rid their filth from the earth.” He missed Bulma's disappointed expression.

“What if they redeemed themselves?” Bulma pressed. “What if they turned their back on what they had become and started a new life?”

Gureifu's lips twisted. “What redemption would there be in this dimension or the next that could account for all the damage and destruction they have wrought?”

It was a question Bulma was familiar with asking herself, constantly. And then an impish, mini version of herself and her mate would float in her mind and would remind her exactly what the answer was. She would look at Trunks and realise that he was the best invention she ever created.

Bulma nodded, sighing. “I understand.” She paused. “But there's always room for redemption.”

“Are you a spiritual woman, Bulma-dono?” Gureifu inquired, amazed at her capacity for trust and forgiveness.

“Well, I have met God face to face!” Bulma chuckled. Gureifu's brows knitted. Bulma waved her hand dismissively at his confused expression.

“I'll tell you about it some time,” Bulma said. “But Dende did teach me that everyone gets a second chance... Or even a third or fourth... And if it's in your heart to change, then you can. But...” she sighed, deep sadness settling in her eyes, “But if you don't want to change, then nothing can be done.”

“The Saiyajin are not known for welcoming change, Bulma-dono,” Gureifu said. “Promise me if you meet one of them not to let your good nature cloud your better judgement! They are ruthless killers--”

“I have to go,” Bulma said, abruptly. “We'll talk later.”

“Bulma-dono...?”

“I have to go,” Bulma repeated as she dashed out of the laboratory.