By QueenSaiyajin
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of its characters, and am writing this fanfic purely for entertainment purposes.
TIMELINE: This story takes place immediately after the first Brolly movie, during the ten days before the Cell Games begin.
Chapter One: Return
Vegeta shifted uncomfortably in the space capsule that had been designed to carry far less passengers than it held right now. The stench of blood and human sweat was revolting. He wanted nothing more than to get away from this group and escape to the solitude of a hot shower, and the peace and comfort of his own bed, with his woman nestled in his arms…
His woman. There would be hell to pay for the way he had left this time, and he knew in his heart that he deserved it. She would most likely scream her head off at him about how he had deserted her and the baby without so much as a word, at the promise of a new Vegeta-sei that needed him as King, and a Super Saiyan whom only he would have the power to destroy…
It had all been a sick, cruel joke. A ruse to lure him, his son, and the other remaining Saiyans, to their death. All for the revenge of a madman who blamed his father, King Vegeta, for trying to kill him and his son Brolly…
As the father of a small child, Vegeta could, on some level, understand Paragus’ fury. The infant Brolly had been guilty of nothing but an incredibly powerful ki. Paragus had tried to convince King Vegeta that the child could become a loyal servant to his son, the young Prince Vegeta who had been barely four years old himself at the time. But Vegeta knew full well what his father had feared, and against his own conscience, approved his decision. Strength was all that mattered in the Saiyan Empire. Vegeta would have only ruled as long as he was perceived to be the most powerful. His father had had great dreams that the Prince would someday become a Super Saiyan, that he would be “the Legendary” reborn. What pride his father would have felt to see that he, and his son, had ascended even beyond Super Saiyan…
And what shame and disappointment would have eaten away at the old man as he’d seen his only son, the Prince of all Saiyans, cowering in fear at the sight of Brolly’s incredible power?
He couldn’t even bear to think of it. The fact that he had gotten up to fight, eventually played a role in Brolly’s destruction, was meaningless. He had been a coward, and all those who were present right now had borne witness to his disgrace.
Once again, Kakarot had saved the day. And Vegeta both admired and hated him for it.
“You were great, Dad,” a bloodied, but grinning Gohan was telling his father. What admiration the boy had for his father. Would baby Trunks ever look at him with such pride? He glanced over at Trunks’ older self, remembering with regret that he had called the boy a coward for warning him to be cautious. Yet with pride and astonishment he had seen the boy fight just as fearlessly as the rest. Vegeta realized suddenly that Trunks was looking back at him, and he looked away. There were so many things he wished he could say, but now would not be the time, even if he could find the strength to say them.
“I never would have been able to do it without you guys,” Kakarot was saying with a humility that was sickening. “If you hadn’t all given me your power…he was about to blast me into the next dimension.” He said it so carelessly, almost as a joke. Was there any fear in the son of a bitch at all? Just then, Kakarot turned to him. “Thank you, Vegeta,” he said with an unexpected sincerity. “I know it’s not the way you would have wanted to do it, but I couldn’t have beaten him without your power.”
Vegeta just nodded and grunted, taken too much by surprise to think of a comeback. He glanced at his son and saw that Trunks was nodding his approval to him as well, his light smile saying something he wouldn’t dare aloud.
Vegeta just turned away. If his son did have any pride in him, at the moment he was convinced it was undeserved.
Bulma stood on her balcony looking into the night sky for some sign of the capsule she knew was on its way. Baby Trunks had long been asleep when her father had come to tell her that he’d detected the ship’s approach. She’d sighed with relief when he’d said there were eight life signs aboard. They were all coming back.
Vegeta was coming back.
She’d been in shock when he’d taken off so abruptly, and for the first time in her life, at a loss for words. Life with him hadn’t been easy, even after Trunks had been born. He’d go off for days at a time to train, claiming that she and the baby distracted him too much. But he’d always come back. And in those precious moments that they shared alone together, she knew that he was happy with them. It was something he would never show publicly, but that she could feel through the bond that had grown stronger between them each day. The special Saiyan bond that connected a Saiyan and his mate for all time, he had told her. It had begun to form the night they’d first made love, their minds and spirits seeming to meld together even as their bodies became one. It was through this magical connection that she’d felt the love he could never bring himself to voice aloud. His thoughts had begun to touch hers even when they were apart, giving her the strength to go on whenever he’d been away. Yet this time, as he’d left with the strange Saiyan Paragus, she’d felt nothing from him. No regret at having to leave her behind, no reassurances that he would return. Just a dark obsession with his own power, and need to prove himself yet again…
She wasn’t sure how she would react when she saw him. Part of her wanted to run into his arms and cry with relief that he had come back to her. Another part of her wanted to slap him hard and scream at him for abandoning her yet again…
She knew that neither would go over very well. But the decision became moot as a tiny dot in the sky began to grow brighter. He was home. That was all that mattered now.
Bulma ran downstairs just as the ship landed not so delicately on her front lawn. She held her breath as the hatch slowly opened…
…and her son stumbled out.
“Trunks!” She hugged him tightly, feeling him nearly slump in her arms. “Are you okay?” she asked worriedly, looking into his pale face. She’d known that Piccolo had taken Senzu along, and couldn’t imagine why Trunks still seemed so weak.
“I’m fine, Mom,” he said, forcing a reassuring smile. “I just need a good night’s sleep.”
One by one they piled out, Goku looking less exuberant than usual, Gohan bloodied and tired but in one piece. Master Roshi was going on to Oolong as if he were still drunk, and Krillin was helping his master walk straight. Impatiently, she turned to Trunks. “Where’s your —?“
Trunks motioned to the ship just as Vegeta emerged. “I promised you I‘d bring him back,” he told his mother softly.
Her heart leapt as she saw him, clothes tattered and spotted with blood. She wanted to run to him then, but knew it would mortify him in front of this group. Their eyes met, and for a moment she could feel his thoughts touch hers, warmth and gladness mixed with an inexplicable…shame?
Then, even as she approached him, he was off into the night sky.
“Vegeta, you bastard, get back here!” she cried without even thinking, her fury and humiliation rising as one.
“Take it easy, Mom,” Trunks told her gently. “He’s been through a rough time.”
“That’s no excuse to---“ She stopped mid-sentence, feeling her tears of despair about to spill out with her anger.
“No, it’s not.” Goku’s voice was deeper than usual, and as she turned to him she could see a dark controlled rage that he had displayed very few times in the years she had known him. “He’s got to start thinking of someone besides himself. I won’t let him go on treating you this way!”
Bulma simply stared at him, wondering what the hell had gone on in their absence. Goku had always been the one to see the good in everyone, even Vegeta. How many times had he calmed her with reassurances that Vegeta really cared about her, and just had difficulty expressing it? What had brought this sudden anger to her friend’s voice?
Luckily, Trunks broke the awkward silence. “Uh, Goku, I think we all just need to get some sleep. Senzu can’t do everything.”
“Yeah, come on, Daddy,” Gohan beckoned him cautiously, obviously just as surprised as Bulma at his outburst. “Mom’s probably up waiting for us.”
Goku hesitated for a moment, as if trying to get his thoughts straight. He turned to Bulma. “Will you be all right?”
She nodded.
“Okay, come on, son.” They flew off, and Krillin turned to Bulma.
“That was…weird,” he said simply. “Goku doesn’t usually get pissed off so easily.”
“There was something strange in their ki,” Piccolo said with concern. “Both of them. I think we should keep an eye on them.”
As soon as they had gone, she looked at Trunks. He seemed somehow…shaky. “Come on, let’s get you to sleep,” she said leading him inside.
Even before he had left the space capsule he had known she was there, felt her presence wrap around him like a warm comforter in winter, as her mind reached out to his. He’d held back to the last, at once yearning for and dreading this reunion. His pride has been shattered in more ways than he cared to contemplate, and the familiar comfort of solitude beckoned him even as his woman’s spirit called out to his.
Then their eyes met, and she gave him that smile that always seemed to heal even the wounds in his pride. The warmth of her feeling for him sought him out even before she started towards him, and for the briefest of moments he felt the peace that only she had been able to restore to his soul. But then, an errant thought brushed his mind, as her despair settled over him, and her voice whispered to him. Why, Vegeta? Why did you leave us again?
The soothing spell was broken, as guilt and self-deprecation overwhelmed him once more. His failure was complete. As a Prince of his Saiyan race. As a husband to Bulma. As a father to their son. He sank deeper into his depression even as he shot into the air.
He flew without thinking, her angry cries ringing in his ears even as he cursed himself anew for his cowardice. Away from Capsule Corp, away from those who had witnessed his humiliation, away from the woman he had failed time and again. Away from the infant son he’d found so difficult to hold, and the grown son he’d insulted and ignored. He couldn’t face them, not right now…
The sun had begun to come up when the anger that had fueled his furious retreat finally dissipated into a dull exhaustion. He stood on a cliff side looking down at the pathetic ball of rock that had become his home, suddenly conscious of the fact that it was more beautiful than he’d ever realized. Hadn’t he and Bulma lain here once together? That day when she’d forced him to put aside his training, when he’d discovered there was so much more in life he thirsted for than power and strength…
He breathed deeply, a swirl of emotions rushing through him more quickly than he could define them. All he knew was that he was tired. And he wanted to lie with her again.
Their home at Capsule Corp was still quiet when he flew into the balcony. For a long moment he watched her face, so angelically peaceful in sleep, wanting nothing more than to crawl in beside her. He smiled to himself as he decided that he absolutely reeked, and didn’t want to awaken her with the aroma of blood and battle. He showered, the hot water beating upon his strained muscles, relaxing them to the point that he almost felt he would drift off while standing. He was about to reenter their room when a thought struck him, and he slipped quietly instead into his infant son’s nursery.
Remarkably, Trunks seemed to have grown in the last few days. Now that Vegeta knew his potential, he was anxious to begin his training. Until he had met the Trunks from the future he had never imagined that the boy would become so powerful, thinking that his human blood would weaken him. But on the contrary, the older Trunks had proved himself to be not only powerful but courageous. A pang of regret touched him as he thought of how in that other time, he had missed seeing his son grow up; Trunks had barely even known his father. In this time, Vegeta had avoided death at the hands of the Androids. But as the Cell games rapidly approached, he wondered if this Trunks, too, would grow up without his father. It would be my own fault, he thought bitterly. If he had destroyed Cell when he’d had the chance…
The baby stirred suddenly, and Vegeta reached down gingerly to rub his back, as he’d seen Bulma do. The child’s warmth seemed to flow into his own body with the rare contact, and he vowed silently that this son would not grow up without him.
Vegeta wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but suddenly he reeled as the room seemed to spin. Outside of battle, he’d never felt like this before. Chalking it up to his fatigue, he looked down at the baby once more, then headed straight for his bed.
Bulma was still lying asleep, her back to him. Gently he eased himself in, spooning against her, slipping his arm around her flat stomach and burying his face in the sweet scent of her hair. He’d be content to lie here like this forever…
Or at least until she woke up to scream at him.
Bulma had cried herself to sleep, physical and emotional exhaustion consuming her as the sun had begun to peek over the horizon. Only when she awoke to the sound of the shower did she relax for the first time in days, with the knowledge that he was home.
She’d drifted off again when she felt him slip quietly in behind her, holding her close as he molded his body against hers and buried his face in her hair. Her heart began to flutter with the contact that both soothed her and excited her at once. His breath was hot against her neck, and as his lips gently caressed her skin with a tender kiss, a flush of desire for him surged throughout her body.
For a long while he lay there against her, probably thinking her asleep, and Bulma fought the urge to turn to him and take him into her arms. Too many times it had been like this. He would disappear without a word, to train or to deal with his personal demons, leaving her to wonder when and if he would ever return. Then he would appear, his battles won or lost, and reach out to her in the only way he had been able to express his love for her. And in his gentle but passionate lovemaking, she would forget her anger as he opened his soul to hers through their bond, baring himself to her completely. In those moments she would know undeniably how much he loved her, in a way that mere words could never set her mind at rest.
But this time, his leaving had hurt her too much. Her pain and anger was something that begged to be said, and not merely washed away in his silent reassurances. This time, he would have to answer to her.
At first, she thought that he had fallen asleep, until his lips began once more to taste her skin, tiny kisses on her neck, then her shoulder, that sent a rush of warmth through her being. Then his hand on her stomach began to caress, moving downward, leaving heat in its wake, as she could feel his own arousal growing against her…
“Vegeta, no…” she forced herself to whisper even as his fingers played gently at the core of her desire, and her body betrayed how much she wanted him.
“Don’t deny me, woman,” he said huskily, in that commanding voice that she had come to recognize as more of a plea. He gently turned her to face him, and she was struck by the troubled gaze he rested on her as he nearly begged, “I…need you.”
Kami, she needed him too! But even as she wrestled with her own desire for him, she knew that she couldn’t give in. “I need you too,” she said softly but firmly, looking into his eyes. “But not just like this.”
Bulma, please… She could hear a weak desperation through their bond, tugging at her heart as only he could.
“Vegeta, you can’t keep doing this to me,” she blurted suddenly in a gush of emotion that she’d held back for too long. “You really hurt me this time! Going off into space without a word, leaving me to wonder if you were ever going to come back to us—“
“I would not have deserted you or my son,” he said stiffly, as if the admission were self-evident.
“You went off because someone promised to make you king of a new planet,” she said, knowing how ludicrous it sounded. “This wasn’t exactly like going off into the mountains to train—“
“I do not wish to speak of it,” he said with finality, a mixture of anger and embarrassment falling over his face.
“You have to! You can’t just take off with no explanation, then slip back into our bed as if nothing had happened. I’m your wife, not your servant and personal whore—“ Her voice broke off as she choked back her tears. She had never stated it so plainly, but it was precisely how he had made her feel. She could see that her words had stung him; could he truly not have known that he was doing this to her?
“You are my wife,” he said shakily. “And we have bonded for all time. To a Saiyan that means significantly more than the pathetic verbal promises that you humans make and break at a whim. There should be no question in your mind as to my feeling for you and the boy—“
“That doesn’t mean that I don’t need to hear it from time to time!” she cried as if she were talking to a wall. “You didn’t even have the decency to speak to me as soon as you got off that ship. Instead, you flew away as if I meant nothing to you! Do you know how humiliating that was in front of all of my friends? They must think I’m pathetic for letting you treat me this way!”
“This is absurd,” he said angrily, rising from the bed. “And I’m sure your friends told you all about what happened on that planet. So there was no need for me to—“
“They told me nothing,” she interrupted him. “Goku knew his first duty was to get back to his wife!”
He glared at her, and she knew that comparing him to his rival had enraged him. But she didn’t care.
“So Kakarot didn’t bother to tell you how he saved the day again?” he snapped bitterly.
“No.” She wasn’t cruel enough to tell him that it didn’t surprise her. “Trunks told me a few things before he went to bed.”
“And did he also tell you about how his father behaved?” he accused.
She shook her head. Trunks had mentioned very little about Vegeta. “He just said you all gave Goku your power to defeat Brolly.”
“Well then let me tell you, woman, if you want so desperately to know!” he cried, seeming almost feverish. “I was a fool and a coward, and I fell right into Paragus’ trap, then cowered in fear of Brolly’s power! The Prince of all Saiyans was paralyzed by fear while mere soldiers fought nearly to their deaths! Is that what you needed so desperately, Bulma?! For me to admit to you my failure and humiliation?!”
Bulma stared at him speechless, realizing the severity of what she had forced him to dredge up. She would have never imagined it, much less expected him to verbalize it. “I…I didn’t know,” she managed finally, reaching for his hand. “Vegeta, I’m sorry—“
He pulled his hand from hers, grabbing a pair of black training pants and pulling them on.
“Where are you going?” she asked quietly, almost afraid.
“To train,” he answered without looking at her.
“Vegeta, please, don’t go,” she begged. For a moment he seemed to hesitate in indecision, but then he left without another word.
Bulma collapsed back on the bed, crying into the pillows that still held his warmth and scent. Vegeta, please come back! I’m sorry! she sent to him through their bond. But even if he heard her, she was not surprised when he did not respond.