"You're still here."

He didn't turn around to look at her as she made that comment; he kept his head town and tilted to the side, glancing at the wall beside him.


His brows furrowed at this question. He was expecting it, but he didn't expect it now, so soon.

The Cell Games were over. Kakarot had died, and refused to come back to Earth. He was still not the strongest being in the Universe, having been usurped by that twerp, Son Gohan. The enemy was gone, and now, after all these years on Earth, all those hours spent training, left him with nothing.

"You asked me to stay here, three years ago," Vegeta said stonily, not looking at the woman in the room. Instead, his eyes fell on the sleeping infant in its crib, completely unaware of the cold war happening in his room.

She didn't miss a beat. "And in those three years, most of that time you spent away from here."

That much was true. She had invited him, and he grudgingly stayed, long enough to take advantage of everything she had to offer; intelligence, home, sustenance, technology, and body.

He hadn't intended to couple with her, and he was almost just as sure that she felt the same. But he was lonely on a planet with nobody else who was even close to understanding him, save for this creature who was bold and vulgar enough to stand up for herself in front of him. He had always been attracted to that trait of hers.

"You don't need to stay; we both know there is nothing left for you here."

The words stung, but he was too proud to give her a reaction. He continued to watch the sleeping baby, breathing slowly but heavily, unsure of what to do.

He had met the boy from the future, the one that grew up without him. The same boy that was now sleeping in the crib, but older, more mature, and just as lonely as he was. He could still see quite clearly, the family resemblance of the older boy, could still hear the same harsh tones in his voice, and sense the feel of dejection every time he was around him.

The boy had haunted his dreams for the past three years, and when he finally revealed his true identity, Vegeta couldn't help but feel resentful towards him. Despite the fact that the boy was living in an apocalyptic world, despite the fact that he was alone and with little hope, the boy still had something he didn't - he had someone whom he could rely on.

The saiyan couldn't say the same for himself - who did he have? The mother of his child was barely in his life, and neither was her son. He couldn't even say this infant was his, he had missed too much, and neglected too much, for the child to recognize him and accept him. And judging by his current situation, Trunks' mother was in no way pleased with his presence in her home.

"You made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with me or my son," Bulma said bitterly, walking over to the crib and looking down. Her features turned from angry to tender the moment she set her eyes on the boy. "You left us, you never cared for our well being, and you acted as though we didn't even exist."

He breathed out loudly through his nose, taking in the words she was throwing at him. He watched her as she lifted to pick up the baby, who was still too far gone in his slumber to realize he was being disturbed. She held the child close to her chest, brows furrowing in the same manner as his own, as she took a defensive stance.

"You don't like me. You made that clear enough. All you wanted from me was the Gravity Room and sex. Well, guess what, jerk? The Tournament's over. There's no more point in your training, and I don't have the time to cling onto hope that maybe you'll change. We don't need you here."

And with that, she stalked past him, still clutching the sleeping baby, and walked out of the room, without even so much as a glance back to the man she was going to abandon, in the same way he abandoned her.

He had no idea how long he stood still in that room, but he did recall darkness, and then eventual light creeping in again. He deduced that probably a day had gone by ever since Bulma left the room with Trunks in tow, and that he was still in the same place he was when she walked out.

While he knew she was upset with him, he didn't expect her to actually tell him that he wasn't needed. And while she didn't say it, she did imply that she wanted him out of her house. She no longer wanted to provide for him, no longer saw a use for his company, and was willing to step out to the world alone with her son.

After spending time with her sporadically for three years, he knew Bulma Brief to be a proud woman, one who never wanted her reputation tarnished. He remembered when she left the Weakling, it was all over the news, and she had addressed the issue with authority and grace to the public. He remembered when she had told him she was carrying his child, and that she insisted that the child's birth remain private and away from prying eyes. And he remembered when she told him that she was going to keep their relationship secret; he was no fan of publicity, but he also had a small nagging feeling of contempt that she wanted to keep him secret, as if he weren't good enough for her.

But now, she was willing to expose all of that. She was willing to reveal to the public that she was a mother to a son who was almost two years of age, that she had an affair for the past three years with an unknown man who had abandoned her.

She was willing to give him up without a second thought, the way he had treated her for the past few years.

When he was the one doing the abandoning, the only thought in his mind was that he needed to focus on himself, and didn't need the distraction of a woman and her child. Now, on the receiving end of such abandonment, he felt empty, alone, and rejected. Did Trunks from the future feel this way when they first met?

In the future, the boy had his mother. And now, it seemed as though history were coming true - the boy would have his mother, and he would be out of the picture.

It was what he wanted, wasn't it? He recalled the memory of Bulma's aircraft pummeling towards doom, and he remembered he ignored it, until the boy from the future had saved the woman and her baby. And he remembered his reply when the boy asked why he didn't step up to the plate to save them. He remembered why, quite clearly.

Ever since he learned of her pregnancy, he began to separate himself from her more and more - it was for the best. He didn't want her around him, he needed to achieve the coveted Super Saiyan, and, most importantly, he didn't want a family. He didn't want the responsibility, the sense of belonging, and he didn't want their reliance of him.

He walked over towards the now empty crib, spying the wrinkled sheets and blankets that lay there forlornly. He ran his hands across the bar of the crib, tracing the grain of the wood with his fingertips.

Perhaps he didn't want any of that family bullshit, but his family had wanted him. They had craved his attention, and he brushed them away. They had wanted his care, and he left them to train himself to greater heights. But now, perhaps he wanted them just a little. And they wanted nothing from him.

She was right - of course she was right. Bulma was always right. She was right about Dr. Gero's androids, she was right about how his obsessive training would cause him bodily and emotional grief, and she was right about him. If Bulma said she didn't need him, she had to be right. There was no need she had of him. She would have her own family, just as she would have her son. She would have her wealth, her intelligence, her technology, and her own life without him. He spent the last three years living for him, and now, she was making it clear to him that she was doing the same.

She had insisted that he go. But just a little part of him didn't want to comply with her wishes. While he respected her enough to listen to her, he couldn't bring himself to move from the room. He had nowhere to go. He had no home. He had no family. He had nothing.

Except that wasn't true, and he was still trying to wrap his head around those thoughts. He did have a home. He did have a family. And he had everything, because of his home and family. He had wanted for nothing - if she were demanding his absence from her home, it was his own fault, his own making, which had led her to such animosity towards him.

Vegeta continued to trace his fingers along the grain, his concentration being taken over by his reflective thoughts. He wasn't aware of the woman and her child, outside of the room, peeking in from the small crack left by the door. He wasn't aware of the look of disturbance and curiosity she wore on her face as she contemplated his presence in the room.

It was only the scent of a freshly cooked meal that got him out of his reverie. By now, he had no clue as to how long he had been in Trunks' bedroom and no idea how he went from the crib to sitting cross-legged in the corner by the bed stand.

"Here," Bulma said, handing a plate piled with goods to him. "You must be hungry."

He grunted his gratitude, taking the plate slowly from her, his eyes locked on hers. He raised an eyebrow questioningly at her.

"You haven't moved for the last three and a half days," she replied flippantly, settling down next to him. "Not even for food. That's vey unlike you."

"Where is the boy?" he asked, picking up the fork as he slowly began to shovel the food into his mouth.

"Mom took him to lunch with the girls. She's showing him off."

He nodded. He looked ahead to the wall facing them, and they both let the silence drag out.

"I assume this will be my last meal here," Vegeta said, swallowing a particularly large mouthful.

She didn't respond, but looked in the same direction his gaze was in. For a woman who always had something to say in any situation, he was unnerved by her silence.

"Isn't it?"

He noticed that she was biting her lower lip, a look of contemplation playing on her face. He waited patiently for her to say something that might reflect her thoughts.

"Why are you here?" she suddenly demanded, her calm demeanor changing into one of anger and exasperation. "You're not supposed to be here!"

He raised an eyebrow at her, but continued eating. He knew she wasn't done reprimanding him, so he remained quiet so that she could continue on her tirade.

"I told you we didn't need you here anymore. You owe us nothing, and I would never ask anything of you that I know you'd be unwilling to give. I get it, Vegeta. You didn't want to be here, so I gave you a free pass. So why are you still here?"

He grunted in response, which only spurred on her frustration.

"I know that I'm the one who invited you to stay here, but I'll have you know that I had a perfectly good life before you came along!"

"With that Weakling?" Vegeta asked, his voice acidic and scratchy from his three-day silence. "Doubtful."

She chose to ignore his comment. "I don't want you here in my house, Vegeta. I can't have you here, under the same roof as me."

Vegeta put aside the now empty plate to his side, before glancing at the woman beside him. Her breathing was shallow, the last statement she gave was said far too quickly without him being suspicious, and there was a tinge of pink gathering around her cheeks.

"Elaborate, I cannot read minds."

She glared at him. "You need to leave."

He pursed his lips. "I can understand why you would want me to leave. But I am unsure why my leaving would be an absolute necessity."

"It's necessary for my sanity," she replied, rolling her eyes at him. "You being here is making me more crazy than anything else ever has." When he said nothing, she continued, "I don't think I'd be able to handle seeing you every day. You would just be a reminder that I'm worthless, of no use, and a constant interference with your life."

He had finally turned his head completely towards her now. For all the time he had known this woman, she had always been confident, unbreakable. She had an ego that could rival his own, and the skill and knowledge to back it up. But to hear her admit that she felt worthless? That was beyond strange.

"You think you're worthless?"

She sucked hr teeth, making a derisive noise. "I don't think I'm worthless. But knowing that you think so makes me feel like crap."

"I hardly said such nonsense, woman," Vegeta said, his tone accusing. "You can think what you want, but I never said it."

"Some things don't need to be said, Vegeta. The fact that you walked out on me and your son speaks volumes of the way you feel about us."

He couldn't think of anything to say to that. She was right. He had walked out on her, and he had walked out on his son. But he was back, wasn't he?

"I'm here now, Bulma."

She stared intently at him, as if she were trying to deduce whether or not he was lying. Finally, she let out a sigh. "You're here now, Vegeta. But what about tomorrow? Next week? Next month? A year from now?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly, pulling up a knee and resting an arm on it.

"And there is my point," Bulma said her voice hardened by frustration. "I can't count on you to be there when you're needed."

"What use would I be to you?"

"You are the father of my child. I need you to be there for Trunks. If you don't want to be with me, if you don't want to be there for me, then I will not hold you captive. But for the sake of my son, I do need you."

Vegeta ground his teeth together. The more she spoke, the guiltier he became, a feeling he was never comfortable with, as it hit too close to home of being in someone's debt.

"I don't want you around if you're not even going to make an effort to be something to our family," Bulma said quietly. Her hand inched towards him, but she stopped right before she was able to touch him. They both stared at her hand.

"This is a home, Vegeta. Not a house, not a place to bunk in whenever you feel like it. It's a home - my home, Trunks' home - and if you don't want us, then I don't want you in our home."

He was still looking at her hand when he said, "I have no home."

She paused briefly, a look of pity on her face, before she said, "No, you don't."

He looked at her from underneath his brows. "For the last three years, I have called Earth home. I have called Capsule Corp home. And now you tell me this is not my home."

She rubbed her eyes with the palm of her other hand. "How can Capsule Corp be your home if you keep running away from it? How can Capsule Corp be your home if you refuse to acknowledge the people who live here? How can my home be your home when you act as though my son and I mean nothing to you?"

He watched as she got up and paced around the room. "Do you even know what a home is, Vegeta?"

A place to sleep. A place to eat. A place to store all of one's belongings.

If was as if she read his thoughts; she narrowed her eyes at him. "A home is a place of belonging. A home is a place where you feel safe and secure. Home is where your family is."

She looked at him expectantly, but he offered no response. So she asked him, "My family is here, Vegeta. Where is yours?"

He turned his head off to the side, as frustrated as she was. He didn't know the answer to that question. He doubted he ever will, unless he stayed behind. And, surprisingly, after days of contemplation, he had come to the conclusion that he did want to stay.

When he didn't answer within a few minutes, he heard her sigh again. She brushed her shoulder-length hair with her fingers, and gave him one last, long look before she made her way out of the room again.

"What do I need to do to make you believe in me?" he finally asked, still shying away from her question. The only way he could ever answer that was if he stayed. And he needed to stay, not because he had nowhere to go, but because just a tiny part of him felt he belonged there.

She paused at the entrance, her hand against the door frame. She didn't answer him right away, and kept her posture stiff and straight.

"Seeing is believing."

She hadn't spoken to him in three months. It was something he noticed quite distinctly, and it bothered him.

Even though she had requested he leave the compound, she did nothing to stop him from staying. Instead, she had gone her way, pretending as if he didn't exist. His meals were still laid out for him, his laundry was still washed, his Gravity Room was still monitored, but other than that, it was as if he wasn't even there.

Vegeta didn't know what to think of this new attitude Bulma had adapted. The old him would've been grateful that he was basically given free room and board, that nobody expected anything from him, and that he was free to do as he pleased, in and out of the house.

However, post-Cell Games, he felt a change in himself. Kakarot was gone; there was no more point really, in training since the one man he wanted to fight would never come back. He was restless with the lack of company, his former lover went on with her life and left him behind, and his son was probably unaware that he even existed.

He didn't like the situation one bit.

She had said that seeing is believing. Wasn't he doing everything he could to prove that? He stayed behind, for crying out loud! He tried to engage her in conversation, only to have her walk past him as though he were just another piece of furniture. He spent an hour every night with the boy while he slept, keeping the child company, if nothing else. He didn't know what else to do.

But to her, seeing was believing. And he was never one to give up on a challenge, no matter how ridiculous it was. So he resolved to keep trying, if not to prove her wrong, then at least to earn the right to stay, and call this forsaken place a home.

"You're still here."

"Yes, I am."


He didn't immediately respond to this question. He felt her eyes on him; he couldn't tell whether she was upset or not this time. They were both standing once more in Trunks' bedroom, but while she was wavering around near the door frame, he was looming over the crib, watching the child sleep.

"Trunks is mine as much as he is yours," Vegeta finally said, not looking up.

"I know that," she replied stiffly, walking into the room towards him. "I've been trying to tell you that since he was born. You chose to ignore me."

"I regret my behaviour, then."

She made a noise, causing him to look at her. He saw that she rolled her eyes. "You can't just discount your behaviour and think everything will be fine, Vegeta. Life isn't that easy, not even for the Prince of Saiyans."

He narrowed his eyes at her sarcasm, but swallowed the insult he was about to give. Now was not the time for verbal sparring.

"You haven't spoken to me in the last four months. Why do you choose tonight to change your course?" he asked, folding his arms together, his feet in defensive stance. He looked at her expectantly.

"I find it unnerving that you have stayed for so long, and wanted to know why," she answered, her own arms crossing. "Why are you choosing to stay, when I have given you leave to go? Nobody would be upset if you do."

"I would," he murmured, averting his gaze. He didn't want to look at her as he said it because she made him feel uneasy.

"You would?" She sounded far too curious for her own good.

"You were wrong, woman," he said scathingly, his arms uncrossing, his hands forming into fists at his sides. "You were wrong."

"Enlighten me, prince."

He cursed underneath his breath before he responded. "The boy is my son too. And this is my home."

She raised an irritating eyebrow at him, her tongue in her cheek.

"You invited me here, Bulma. You allowed me to stay with you. And I have formed a home here."

"A home is not a place where you freely come and go without any consideration - "

"How do you know I have not factored you and the boy in my life?" he bit out, a bit harshly, annoyed that she had interrupted him. "How do you know that I do not value this compound, and everything that comes with it?"

Her voice shook with a feeling he couldn't name as she said, "Because if you held any value to this place, then you wouldn't have left me. If you held any value to this place, you would've willingly looked after your son. And if held any value to this place, then you would've done all you could to protect us!"

"How do you know I didn't protect you or your son?" Vegeta shot back, his head now inches away from her. He snarled. "You were not at the battle. What do you know?"

"You're right. I wasn't at the battle. I have no idea what happened." Her face flushed with years of anger towards him, and she breathed heavily. "Maybe if you opened up for once in your sorry life, then you can help me understand."

"He died!" Vegeta yelled, the force of his voice making the woman stumble back a few steps. "That boy - from the future, he died!"

"I know that," she said solemnly. She quickly glanced at the sleeping baby, and let out a sigh of relief. "I know."

"But you didn't watch him die!" he continued, his eyesight now blurry at he continued his rant. "You weren't there! You don't know what it's like, to witness the death of your only son! You don't understand the turmoil and the grief that goes through you when you realize that you outlive your own child, knowing that he should rightfully outlive you! As hard as it for you to believe, I do have feelings! You dare tell me I have no consideration? If I hadn't considered you, then you and this infant would not be here today!"

He had moved closer to her the angrier he got, and to Bulma's credit, she barely moved back to accommodate his presence.

"I tried, did you know that? I tried to avenge his death. Perhaps I did not acknowledge him as my son at first, perhaps I was selfish. But that doesn't mean I don't care!"

He stood face to face with her, his own breathing unsteady after the yelling episode. She looked back at him defiantly, her own chest moving rapidly up and down, contemplating what he had just revealed to her. Both stood without knowing what to say, because there was nothing else left to speak of.

The yelling and commotion had caused the baby to awake, having been disturbed from what had been a peaceful slumber. Trunks wailed and thrashed around his crib, crying to be picked up and comforted. However, before Bulma could make a move towards her son, the saiyan had grunted, turned on his heels, and headed towards the crib himself. He gingerly picked up the child, hooking his hands beneath Trunks' arms, and held him until the boy hung in the air, facing his father.

"Stop that crying, boy," Vegeta muttered, glaring at his son. "Your added noise is unnecessary."

When the baby began to slowly cease his crying, the saiyan held the boy, cradling him in one of his heavily muscled arms. He walked back towards the woman in the room.

Again, he stood facing her, except now, he took note of the fact that both their breathing had calmed down. Their heads were probably clearing, and their rage was deflating. He stood there watching her watch him, silently, unsure of what to say or do.

He had no idea how many minutes or hours passed, as he stood there looking at the woman he had once called a lover. He noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes, the cracked skin on her hands from the repair work she had been doing too much of recently, her blue hair that was once all her pride glory, that now hung limp and loose past her shoulder blades. She was getting thin, and not in a good way, and she was neglecting her own well-being for whatever reason. He had a feeling the reason was him.

"I don't know what to do anymore," she eventually said, her voice helpless and lost.

And for the first time since he could remember, neither did he.

He found her, later that night, in her bedroom, flipping through pages of a beauty magazine. However, while she usually perused the garbage with utmost interest, he saw that she flipped each page robotically, not taking any notice of the content.

He cleared his throat, which caused her to jump and clutch at the pillow lying by her side. She gave a look of alarm, until she realized that it was him.

He noticed that she didn't invite him in. He didn't want to make their situation any worse than it already was, and so he remained by the door

"For the sake of your son, I will stay," he said, looking directly into her eyes. "I will stay and care for the boy, and I will do my duty to him as his father."

She looked at him curiously, her mouth slightly open. He stood there, waiting for her to say something.

"He's your son too, Vegeta."

He laughed bitterly at this comment. "Four months ago, you said something that would've contradicted that."

"Four months ago, I was angry. Four months later, I am hopeful."


She sat upright in her bed, playing with a strand of her hair. He watched mesmerized at the way the hair looped and twirled around her slender finger.

"He's your son too."

"No," he said, as he turned away from her. But he glanced at her over his shoulder, and said, "He is not my son until I earn that privilege."

And with that, he turned and walked back into the hallway, making for his own room.

A year later, Vegeta could honestly say that he was getting used to being a father.

He wasn't much of a dad, but he was a father. And a pretty good one, at that.

The boy was almost three by now; his speech patterns were by far superior to that of an average small Earthling, he was already showing signs of a great warrior, and he was much too intelligent for his own good.

Vegeta was satisfied.

He had just put the boy to bed after a demanding day of training in the basics of combat, and was shutting the door to the bedroom behind him, when the boy's mother had walked by and stood in front of him.

"He looked exhausted during dinner tonight," Bulma said conversationally, glancing at the door before looking at him.

"Hn. We started learning the basics today," he replied, crossing his arms.


"Stance, footing, attacks, drills."

"Oh," she said, nodding along. "I'm sure he enjoyed that."

"Actually, he did not," Vegeta said, rolling his eyes at no one in particular. "He complained through most of it."

"And I'm sure you reprimanded him through all of it."

He smirked at this comment. She was correct.

He raised an acknowledging eyebrow at her, before stepping sideways to head down the halls. He needed a shower, after having Trunks grab at him with his grubby hands, and the boy wiping his tears all over his training suit.

"Vegeta!" Bulma called out hesitantly. He stopped, but didn't turn around, waiting for her to catch up to him. "Wait, I want to speak with you."

When she was finally beside him, he cocked another eyebrow at her, but this one was questioning. For an entire year, she had avoided direct conversation with him, had done her best to address him as little as possible, and made it more than obvious that she was testing him on his fathering abilities. She had never once let on that she wanted to speak to him.

"What?" he asked bluntly, leaning a shoulder against the wall.

She pursed her lips, playing nervously with her fingers. Except for their initial meeting, he couldn't ever remember her being nervous around him.

"I just... I just - "

He gave her a condescending look, which she didn't take lightly.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Vegeta, stop looking at me like that!" she cried, swatting him on the arm. He rolled his eyes at her.

"What?" he asked again, sounding tired and worn out from the day's activities.

She gave him a long hard look, before shaking her head and smiling slightly. "Nothing, never mind."

"Spit it out, woman!" he growled, blocking her from getting away. "I know you have something to say."

"Geez, control your temper," she said hastily, rubbing an arm with her hand. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

This caught his attention. "What?"

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes at him. "You heard me, Vegeta. I said I'm sorry."

"For what?"

She gave him a guilty look, mumbling, "For treating you so poorly this past year, when you have been nothing short of caring towards my son."

He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. "And also, I accept that I am wrong about you. You were right - this compound is your home. It is where your son is, and it is where you belong."

Vegeta bit his upper lip, absorbing what she had just said to him. He stood there with her for a few uncomfortable minutes. It was longest she had been in the same vicinity as him for the period of a whole year, and he wasn't sure what to do.

"Thank you," he finally said, his voice stilted.

"No," she said, smiling at him. "Thank you, for being here for your son."

"Hn." It was getting to awkward now, and he wished for nothing else but a long hot shower, and a second round of tonight's dinner. He glanced sideways, and she took the hint, stepping back to make room for his getaway.

He watched as she gave him one last smile, before walking in the opposite direction of where he was headed. She was just about to turn the corner, when he stopped her.

"You're wrong, woman."

She froze in her tracks, before turning back slowly to face him, confusion written all over her face. "Wrong about my apology?"

He snorted at her, and stalked towards her. "No, you idiot. You're wrong about me."

"Seems like I'm wrong about you a lot recently."

He ignored this comment, and continued with his own thoughts. "You were right to acknowledge that this is my home. It is where my son is, and it is where I belong."

"Then what am I wrong about?"

He gave her a reproving stare. "You neglect to mention that my family is here as well."

"No I didn't, I said your son was here."

He leaned forwards until his face was practically touching hers. "My son is here, but so are the rest of my family."

It took a while before his words registered with her, and he watched until the realization dawned on her face. She had been staring intently at his mouth the entire time, and had only just hesitantly looked up into his eyes.

"Oh," she said, her mouth small and round. Her surprise managed to help her keep it slightly open.

"Indeed," he replied, smirking into her eyes. He noticed that her eyes were beginning to close, as she tilted her lips up towards his.

"I told you that I was staying for the sake of the boy," he murmured softly, before she could manage to get her mouth to his. She jerked back instantly.

"What?" she asked, slightly dazed. He offered her no answer, but only grinned wickedly. "Ugh, you are such a jerk, Vegeta! What about all that family crap you just spewed out seconds ago?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, crossing his arms across his chest, looking highly amused.

"Woman, for the past year and four months, you made it perfectly clear that you wished to have nothing to do with me," he said, raising an arrogant eyebrow at her. He watched as her cheeks puffed endearingly. "You had no desire to talk to me, let along look at me. And now you want to engage in intimate acts with me?"

She snarled. "Don't flatter yourself, prince. A kiss is in no way an intimate act!"

He smiled slowly at her, making her twitch even more nervously than before. "I beg to differ, Brief. I can recall many kisses between us that were far too intimate."

She bristled underneath his gaze, but didn't turn away. "Do you want a family or not?" she demanded, hands forming into fists.

"I already consider you, the boy, and your challenging parents as family. Perhaps you should be asking yourself that question instead," he said evenly, staring at her intently.

"I do," she replied quickly, avoiding his gaze, opting to stare at her feet instead. "I want a family."

"Then perhaps you should stop acting so cold around me before you start your feeble attempts at intimacy with me."

She pursed her lips once more, lifting her head to narrow her eyes at him. "Are you opposed to having a relationship with me, Vegeta?"

"I don't know," he answered truthfully, uncrossing his arms and letting them hang to the side. "You are still holding resentment towards me."

She nodded, biting her lip. "Yes, that's true. But I'm willing to look past that and work on a relationship for the sake of my family."

He grunted, looking doubtful. Her resentment was much too strong for her to just drop like a hat, and too much had happened in their year-long cold war for them to ignore the past.

"I don't know how to proceed," he admitted grudgingly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I don't know what you want me to do."

"Well," she announced, giving him her trademark grin, "I do."


She shrugged her shoulders, offering up her palms at him. "Can't."

"Then what is it that you propose we do?"

She cocked her head to the side as she peered at him, as if wondering if he was truly up to the challenge of starting a family. He was late by three years, but she had always maintained that it was always better late than never.

He watched her, his eyebrow rising on its own accord. She began to walk towards him, and only stopped until she was directly in front of him. She laid her hand on top of one of his, and squeezed lightly.

"We'll do what we always do, Vegeta," she said, her voice betraying no emotion whatsoever. "We'll start from scratch."