With a gasp, Vegeta sat up in bed and stared blankly around the room before his surroundings came into focus. He realized that he was home. Capsule Corp. His bedroom. The curtains were drawn and the blinds across the balcony were pulled closed but, judging by the slants of sunlight that peeked through, it had to be late in the morning. A glance at Bulma's alarm clock confirmed his suspicions. It was 9:32 a.m.

Shit, I've been asleep for over fourteen hours? He couldn't remember a time when he'd ever managed more than six.

"Rip van Winkle finally awakens," Bulma's voice carried over and he saw she was seated in the divan beside her vanity, typing on her laptop. She pulled out the ear buds to an iPod and got to her feet. "How do you feel?"

"What? I guess I feel . . ." The word 'good' was poised on his tongue but he didn't say it out loud. It wasn't a word he could ever recall using before this morning but it seemed to go along with the odd detachment of his thoughts. While he was trying to puzzle it out, he was interrupted by a hearty gale of her laughter.

"I see that you must have had a great dream," she said, giggling.

"What the hell are you-" he looked down and saw that he had an erection tenting the blanket at his waist. "Oh, grow up," he grumbled and made as graceful an exit to the bathroom as was possible under the circumstances.

When she heard the shower start running, Bulma sat down on the edge of the bed as if the strength had gone out of her legs. She hadn't caught more than a few hours of sleep all through the night, interrupted by Vegeta's restless thrashing or the odd muttered word. Both were usually normal for him but knowing what he had gone through, and having no clear understanding of precisely what Gure had done to his mind, she had worried herself into a frenzy. This morning she was relieved to see that he seemed to be right back to his usual surly self.

She was waiting for him when he emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later. He stood in the doorway with a towel around his slender waist and was rubbing another through his heavy mane. "What happened to me last night?"

Very carefully, she countered with, "How much do you remember?"

His brows furrowed in thought. "I forced an Oozaru change on Tarble and his mate attacked me. I remember that much. I could have sworn I went Super Saiyan three . . ." he looked at her doubtfully.

"Yes, you did."

"Hnh. I'll be damned," he betrayed a slight smile before it faded. "Ascensions like that are created out of extreme emotional states. I don't remember getting upset. I don't remember . . ." There it was again. That sensation of calm that interrupted the normally chaotic flow of his thoughts. It was as out of place as a sun blazing from the sky during night time. "Gure screwed with my mind," he said in a deadly calm voice. He spared Bulma a level stare. "Why?"

She regarded him calmly despite feeling chilled to the bone with the speed he had detected Gure's tampering. The little alien had warned her that he might have sensed it and, after lying awake for so many hours considering this very occurrence, Bulma figured she had her response all worked out. "Do you want to know?" she asked honestly. "Really?"

Silence fell between them as he worked it out in his mind, taking his time. Whatever had happened had been bad enough for him to lose complete control. He caught flashes of Gure's face and Bulma's and - and-!

His hand flashed up to his temple as if he'd been struck. Trunks! I hurt him. I hurt my son! He could envision his hand curled around the boy's throat and the child's pained thrashing beneath his tightening grip. Kakarrot had appeared and tried to restrain him, and in the conflict he had ascended to level three. After that, everything went alarmingly black. Yes, he remembered certain events but not the catalyst that had set it all into motion. When he tried to push it, all he got back was the memory of his two day shore leave on Planet #32. It had been one of his better times as a soldier and experiences like that had been few and far between.

But it wasn't right. It just wasn't . . . right. He looked up at Bulma. "Do you know?"

"If you told me then Gure must have taken that away from me, too," she responded. It was the truth, even though she had no clear recollection of when the tiny alien might have removed her knowledge of the specifics of Vegeta's pained memory. It made sense she supposed. If he had wanted to reclaim what had been lost, he could have simply taken it from her mind and the cycle would have potentially repeated itself. "Vegeta-"

He held up his hand, cutting off her words. Do I really want to know what made me get so out of control? he brooded, crossing his arms. He dropped his eyes to the floor, battling with his pride and his conscience. It was a bitter, inner conflict considering his pride, which had been at the forefront of his thoughts until all that Majin bullshit, had the most experience dictating his actions. Usually to catastrophic results. He struggled for several minutes before betraying a weary sigh, his rigid shoulders drooping in surrender.

"No," he finally muttered, more to himself than to her. "I . . . guess not."

She tried not to betray her extreme relief. She had hoped that he would be rational but hadn't counted on it. As usual he managed to surprise her. "I'm glad to see that you finally look well rested."

"I don't feel it," he responded, rubbing his neck. His entire body ached. "That stage three state seems to be different from the others. It took just about everything I had. Small wonder I was out of it for that length of time."

"Yeah, small wonder," she said neutrally. He seemed to be debating about whether to return to bed and she solved that by patting the area beside her. "Was it a good sleep? You were tossing and turning for most of the night."

He settled beside her and then stretched back, rubbing his face. "It was full of strange dreams, that's for sure. You were there."

That surprised her. "I was?"

"Yeah. You had four tits, though."

"Well, don't expect that to happen in reality," she mocked, tracing one of the scars on his stomach with a light finger. "What would have made you think about that?"

"It was a barmaid I'd met on Planet #32-"

Her face hardened. "I don't want to hear about any of your conquests-"

"It wasn't a fling. We never did it. I wanted to but I was just a dumb, horny kid and she-" He pulled a face. "I fed her every lame pick-up line in the book and she shot me down each and every time. I had no idea how pathetic my come-ons actually were. Until now. Crap . . ." He placed his hands over his eyes as if to block it all out.

"Oh come on," Bulma chided. "I dated Yamcha, remember? His lines were the absolute worst. How bad could yours be?"

He waggled his index finger in a "come closer" gesture. When she leaned over him, he whispered softly into her ear, "'Let me show you what I learned from Planet Cunnilingus'."

"Oh my God!" She fell backwards across the bed, shrieking with laughter.

"I told you," he said with a wry smile, watching her smother her mirth into the coverlet.

The laughter eventually passed and she looked up at him with bright color in her cheeks and kissed him. It was like the dream all over again only this time the woman was here in the flesh. Her mouth was open and waiting and he responded by deepening the kiss, a long and industrious fusing of lips and tongue. His strong arms encircled her and pulled her on top of him, keeping her close, not wanting to break the contact.

When they finally parted for air, she said breathlessly, "I'm so glad you're all right." She meant it in many different ways but it all amounted to the same thing; he was still the man she had married eight years ago: The villain turned hero, the loner turned family man. Her husband, lover, and best friend all rolled into one. He was safe and sane. And hers. "I love you, Vegeta."

"I never would have guessed," he parried and favored her with his patented smirk.

"You know what I'm going to do to you?"

"Surprise me."

She gusted softly into his ear, "I'm going to show you what I learned from Planet Fellatio."

Vegeta quickly discovered, to his extreme delight, that she'd learned quite a lot.

Snapping out of a troubled doze, Gure looked over at the far wall with her head cocked to the side and reached out with her psionics, evaluating what she felt. The rigid set of her spine gradually eased and she slumped back into her chair with a sigh of relief.

"Everything alright?" Tarble asked from his place on the bed. He was lying on his stomach with a heating pad over his lower back, reading through an enormous stack of glossy Earth magazines. The various cultures of Earth simply fascinated him but he found that he preferred to read about it than watch it all on the television. He had a hard time determining what was "reality" TV and what was make-believe.

"It is now," she said, sparing him a strained smile. Like Bulma, she had not slept well the entire night, although for different reasons. Like with the emotion of anger, she was ill-equipped to deal with the suffocating guilt for her past actions. She couldn't be at peace until she was sure that all was well. "Vegeta has accepted the memories I implanted. He's much calmer than before. His mind is finally at peace."

He smiled at his mate. "I never doubted you could do it for one second," he said proudly, extending his hand towards her.

She took it and he pulled her up on the bed. "So . . . what now?" he asked.

She blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Are you ready to return to your world?"

"Are you?" she whispered, trying desperately not to betray her eagerness.

Tarble didn't answer right away. Gure had told him what she had seen in Vegeta's memories: That the prince had purposely lied to Frieza and kept Tarble's identity a secret despite all of the horrors he had endured while under the tyrant's rule. Tarble had been touched, but hadn't been all that surprised. He had come to understand his brother better during their short, strained interactions and had made his own conclusions: Vegeta was conflicted and haunted, but he also possessed a humbling nobility that was inspiring. He was a man of great pride, tempered by his interaction with his Earth friends and family. Being on this planet brought out the best in him and that was the reason he stayed. He didn't need any reminders of his years in space; he had endured a lifetime of that barren harshness. Sadly, Tarble understood that he was just a relic of that old life and things would never really improve between them because of it. Too many years had passed by and now they were both too fully committed to their own unique lives to have any interest in the other's.

"Yes, I'm ready," he said, in answer to her question. He had thought that it would bother him to say it but was surprised to find that the words came out quite easily. His smile broadened, creating dimples in both cheeks. "I want to go home."

Gure hugged him, crying tears of joy.

"I'm gonna knock you out!" Trunks grunted, propelling his fist forward so fast it was a blur.

"No way!" Goku said, ducking and countering with an uppercut. "Take that!"

"Hah! Not even close!"

The pair were in the living room playing the boxing game on the family's Wii system. Bulma had redesigned the controllers to put up with the abuse of super-fast and strong hybrid children but hadn't accounted for a pure-blooded Saiyan adult. Goku ducked again, his eyes glued to the huge screen on the wall, and punched out with full strength. The remote snapped in half and took off like a bullet towards the couple who were coming downstairs.

"Shit!" was all Vegeta had time to say before grabbing Bulma and forcing her down just as the remote sailed directly over her head. It smashed into the wall hard enough to disappear into the plaster. "Kakarrot! Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Oops. Sorry . . ."

Bulma stared in complete astonishment at the hole the remote had made. It had to be at least a foot deep. She raised a hand to her head just to make sure it was still attached to her shoulders. Death by Wii, she was thinking numbly. What a dumb way to die.

Trunks slapped Goku on the arm. "Great job! Now there's only one remote left. It's boring playing with just myself."

"I'll make you another," Bulma said when she'd composed herself. She made it to the landing and immediately flopped down into the nearest chair. She couldn't seem to stop staring at the hole.

"Can you do that right now?" Goku asked eagerly. "We don't have this game at home. It's great!"

Vegeta looked at his wife in exasperation. "Why is he still here?" he asked, as if the fighter wasn't standing just eight feet away.

"I was worried about you," Goku responded.

"He's been here since yesterday. He spent the night," she said and didn't add that Antony the chef, and both of his assistants, had asked her point-blank when her ravenous guest would be leaving. After serving him just one supper and a breakfast, they were poised to quit. The offer of a substantial raise increase was the only thing that had finally placated them.

"Trouble at home?" Vegeta asked snidely.

The younger man said with false enthusiasm, "Nope! Everything's just great!"

"Right." Dismissing him, Vegeta looked over at Trunks and cleared the distance. He grabbed the boys jaw and gently tilted his head one way and then the other, noticing the fading bruises on his throat. He released him and sighed. "How many hours in the park is this going to cost me?"

The answer was immediate: "Five."

"Five?"

"One for each finger."

Vegeta relented. ". . . Fair enough. You can invite Goten to tag along if you want."

Trunks' eyes got very wide. "Seriously?"

"I figure I deserve extra penance for hurting you. Chaperoning the two of you is as good a punishment as any," the Saiyan responded honestly.

"Wow! Thanks, dad! I'll go call him right now and find out when he's free." Like a shot, the boy flew up to the second floor and ran to his room. When he was out of sight, Bulma said, "I'll be tagging along to watch you guys, you know."

"Great."

"Can I come, too?" Goku asked hopefully.

Vegeta snapped his head around to glare at him. "Absolutely not. Haven't you ever heard of the expression 'five's a crowd'?"

"I thought it was 'three's a crowd'."

"It's a paradigm that applies to any odd number."

"No kidding?" Goku looked over at Bulma who offered an indifferent shrug. She didn't want her old friend to tag along either, but didn't really want to say it out loud. It was best to let Vegeta do the actual heart-breaking. "Aw . . ."

"Stop sulking. We need to talk. Outside," Vegeta said, heading to the balcony. When they were both out on the deck and the doors pulled closed, he said, "The stage three transformation . . . It's different than the others."

"Yeah," Goku confessed, scratching the back of his head.

"It hurts."

The younger fighter nodded gravely. "I never noticed it when I used the form in the afterlife," he said. "That's because I was, y'know, dead and all. It wasn't until I came back to Earth and used it in a physical body that I noticed what a toll it took on my system. That's why I had so much trouble powering up."

"You haven't used it since," Vegeta said, leaning against the railing and crossing his arms.

"No, it's not a form to use for sparring. It's pretty much reserved for last-ditch efforts. We haven't had one of those situations since Kid Buu."

"But Trunks and Goten can become Gotenks, and he's capable of maintaining the stage three transformation until the fusion wears off."

"That's because there's magic involved. If you and I learned the dance-"

"Not on a bet, Kakarrot. Our one fusion was more than enough."

"Aw c'mon, it wasn't so bad." Goku had sidled up to his short friend and playfully elbowed him in the ribs.

"Idiot," Vegeta muttered under his breath but didn't retaliate, a fact they both noted with surprise. Maybe it was because he was well-rested for a change, or perhaps because he was still savoring Bulma's earlier treat; all that he knew was that he was finding it difficult to get seriously angry.

"I think it's cool that we're back on a level playing field again," Goku remarked.

"Sure, until you trip over the next transformation and then I'll be spending the next few years breaking my neck trying to match it," the prince said bitterly.

"I don't think there's another level after this."

"You don't? Why not?"

"Our bodies can barely handle level three. It's just too much power for a mortal form to manipulate. That's why it only really works in the afterlife or when there's magic involved. Maybe there is a level four but . . ." the fighter spared a glance towards Heaven and then looked back at him.

". . . We'll have to be dead to find out," Vegeta finished.

"Been there, done that," they said in perfect unison and then looked at one another, shocked.

Vegeta grunted and Goku burst out laughing, slapping his old rival in the shoulder. "I guess I'd better be heading back home," the younger man said. "Chi Chi probably has her hands full with Abo and Cado. I don't suppose-"

"Don't you dare send them here. I've got my own pair of misfits to deal with."

Goku's smile flagged, remembering Tarble and Gure. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry that things aren't really working out between you and your brother."

Vegeta looked away and didn't respond.

"It's gotten me thinking a lot about Radditz lately," he said slowly. "I'm really starting to regret my part in killing him. I didn't understand who or what he was, and I didn't take the time to find out. Piccolo and I should have gone about dealing with him in a different way . . . "

"It wouldn't have mattered. He was crazy. We both were back then."

"I'm just saying-"

"I know what you're trying to say, Kakarrot," Vegeta interrupted harshly and then dropped his voice to say in a calmer tone, "But there are some things that no amount of time can fix. Tarble has his life and I have mine. They are not compatible and neither are we. It's just the way of things sometimes."

"Huh. I guess I kind of understand that."

"Then we're done here."

Goku got the hint. "You know where to find me when you want to spar," he said and offered the other man a curt wave before winking out of sight.

For some reason Vegeta was under the impression that he wouldn't be going out of his way to look for a fight any time soon. He wanted to stay home and return to his usual routine: train alone, train with Trunks, and enjoy the time when he wasn't training to be with Bulma. It felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders but he was damned if he could figure out what it had been.

Do you want to know? Really? Bulma asked in the back of his mind.

No, he thought again. Along with that came the reassurance that whatever had happened, whatever Gure had changed, it wasn't a bad thing. Perhaps even a necessary thing. He wasn't a coward and had never backed away from a challenge but he vaguely understood that it would be for the best if he didn't dig too deeply into this mystery. Everyone had gone out of their way to help him for probably good reason. Perhaps some things were best left alone.

He spared his adopted city a long appraising look. It didn't appear to have suffered any lasting damage from his insane power-up the night before. He absently wondered if anyone had been seriously hurt or killed and that made him falter. Since when had he started to give a damn about the humans? Not since wishing Earth back two years ago, at least. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, massaging away the stiffness. I'm getting soft and sentimental in my old age, he brooded. In another few years I'll be just like-

Tarble. He wondered how the younger man was adjusting to the loss of his tail. No doubt better than he was, that's for sure. He turned around and saw the odd couple in the living room talking to Bulma and felt his muscles immediately start to tighten up. Taking a deep breath, he reluctantly joined them.

"Brother," the small Saiyan greeted when Vegeta returned to the living room. "How are you?"

"Propriety dictates that I ask you the same thing."

"Ah! It gets better by the hour," he said, comically wiggling his behind.

Vegeta closed his eyes at the sight. "Don't do that."

Gure walked over and stood with her head craned up until he noticed her. "What?" he asked guardedly, forcing himself to remain in place and not betray his unease around her by taking a step back. Reading his apprehension, the little alien held her hands out, palms up. I over-reacted the other night, Vegeta. I'm very sorry, she whispered into his mind, conveying her guilt and shame along with the exchange so that he would believe her.

- You believed you were protecting your mate, he responded frankly. I don't precisely know what happened. I don't want to know, but in the course of those events I achieved ascension. As far as I'm concerned, the slate is now clean between us. He offered her a vague nod.

It wasn't exactly forgiveness but it was close enough to placate her. –Thank you, Prince of Saiyans, she said sincerely, adding a curtsey.

"We've come to ask when our space pods can be released," Tarble said, looking at Bulma.

Trunks pulled a face. "What? You're leaving?"

"I miss my kin," Gure said.

"But you haven't even been here a week!"

"It took us a year to get here and it will take us another to return," she explained patiently. "I have never left my home for so long a time. The silence in my mind actually hurts from their absence."

"And I won't let her travel alone," Tarble added, just in case there was any doubt that it wasn't a mutual consensus.

"I'll make a phone call and have the pods delivered here," Bulma said, surprisingly accepting of the decision. She stepped out of the room to make the necessary arrangements.

Trunks was surprised that she hadn't tried to talk the new arrivals out of leaving. He looked over at his dad and saw that he was regarding the pair with veiled eyes, apparently lost in thought. Tugging on his shirt, he whispered, "Aren't you gonna insist they stay, dad?"

Vegeta didn't answer. Meeting his brother's gaze, he walked over and said in a low voice, "Walk with me, Tarble," and left the room.

When they were out in the hallway, Vegeta stopped and said to him, "I've made peace with your mate. You and I are another matter."

Tarble looked down at his feet in shame. "I should never have said what I did-"

"For all their malice, they were just words. I physically attacked you. There was no call for me to do that," Vegeta said stiffly, staring at the far wall.

It was dawning on the younger Saiyan that his brother was trying to apologize. "I understand why you did what you did. I'm not angry at you."

Vegeta didn't appear to be swayed. "If you give me a day, perhaps two, I can collect the Dragonballs and make the wish that your tail be -" he stopped as Tarble fiercely shook his head. "Why not?"

"You gave me an amazing gift, Vegeta," he said, smiling sadly. "For the first time in my life I felt powerful, carefree, and alive in ways I'd never thought possible. It was an incredible sensation but I can see the danger in having that ability. It has the potential to be addictive. I understand now why you train as hard as you do. The sensation of true power is extremely appealing. If I had my tail back, I can't guarantee that I wouldn't seek out a way to feel like that again. I won't place Gure or her kin in jeopardy. I appreciate your offer, but I must decline. I'm perfectly happy without my tail."

"It took me years to adjust to the loss of mine," Vegeta admitted, speaking slowly. "After my defeat on Earth I went to one of Frieza's planets for aid, and when I emerged from the regeneration chamber the medical technician apologized for it not having healed my tail. I told him that it would grow back . . . but it never did. I've never understood why. I only know that-" He looked at Tarble and admitted, "Without it, I don't feel whole."

"Would having it back help or hinder your life here on Earth?" Tarble asked him.

I think that Bulma could certainly learn to enjoy it, was Vegeta's first thought but he realized that his younger brother was trying to make a different point. Having his tail back would create several dilemmas, the task of trying to explain it to Earthlings being just one among many. He would have to hide from the full moon each month, and be even worse company than usual while doing so. Ignoring an Oozaru change was hard on the nerves and difficult to resist, as Tarble had discovered. There was no place on this world for a Saiyan Great Ape to go rampaging around. Especially not one as powerful as the creature he would potentially become. If his power were to increase tenfold, and he had just achieved a level three transformation, there was no guarantee that this world would even survive such an event.

Tarble saw a range of varied emotions pass over the older man's face; frustration, regret, anger, realization. "What's inside of us is all that matters, brother," he said, thumping his chest for emphasis. "We aren't defined by things but rather, by what we feel. You may have lost the throne, our people, your tail, but you do have your family. It's all that you'll ever need. We are all comforted by the love we have for each other. It sustains us through-."

"Tarble."

"Yes?"

"It's just as well that you're leaving."

"Oh? Why do you say that?"

Vegeta regarded him sourly. "Because if I have to listen to your sentimental bullshit for just one more day, I'll have to kill you. Or kill myself. Again."

"I know what you feel, even if you don't want to admit it," Tarble said with a slow grin spreading across his face. "After all, I'm you. Remember?"

"I'd rather not."

"I wouldn't have these emotions if you hadn't had them first, brother. We are one and the same."

"Yin and yang . . ." Vegeta muttered under his breath.

"Who are they?"

"Never mind," he said, getting back to the matter at hand. "Once you return to Gure's world, what will you do about the remnants of Abo and Cado's army?"

"Gure's kin have probably already dealt with them. Only Abo and Cado were immune to their psionics. Once the soldiers leave, the planet will stay cloaked to prevent any future invasions," Tarble said, the pride in his adopted people was evident in his voice when he spoke of them.

Ever the pessimist, Vegeta persisted, "What if the soldiers are still there? Are you just going to rely on your wife and her people to protect you?"

"What else can I do?"

"I can show you a few things," the prince offered. "Give you some tips on how to get the maximum efficiency out of your defective power level."

"I'd like that," Tarble said honestly.

They went into the gravity simulator together. It had since been repaired, but for a change Vegeta wasn't interested in showing off his tolerance to high gravity. He genuinely wanted to help Tarble and just needed a large room where ki bolts could be fired without damaging any structures. The younger Saiyan had forgotten a great deal of his bodyguard's teachings and was reluctant to attempt even the simplest of hand-to-hand basics. Displaying an extraordinary amount of patience, Vegeta concentrated more on helping Tarble focus his waning ki reserves into firing several small, short bursts rather than wasting energy on one large blast.

"It's about timing and concentration," he instructed, holding up Tarble's arm and aiming it towards a target drawn on the far wall. "You don't need a lot of power to knock someone off their feet."

"Why would I do that?"

"It'll give you a head start so you can run away," Vegeta said scornfully, recognizing his younger brother's preference when it came to fighting: He preferred to avoid it at all costs.

"Oh."

Tarble's aim was just about as terrible as his power level. He managed twenty-two weak shots before exhausting his reserves and only five of them managed to hit the target. Still, Vegeta wasn't entirely discouraged. "With some time and practice, you should do better. I can only show you the basics. The rest is up to you."

Leaning up against the wall and gathering his strength, Tarble smiled weakly. "Thank you, brother. I promise to practice when we return."

Trying to submerge his irritation, Vegeta shrugged and looked away. A part of him had been hoping that they would have finally found some common ground during their little training session. It had only served to widen the gap between them. He couldn't understand how a Saiyan, even one as gentle as his brother, could treat the pursuit of power as a bothersome chore. "We're done here," he announced, unlocking the door. "Let's go into the kitchen. It's best to enter stasis on a full stomach."

Tarble responded to the prospect of eating with far more vigor than he did to the training.

Vegeta wasn't surprised.

Gure and Tarble's space pods were delivered to the backyard of the compound as soon as the meal was over, as if it had been planned that way. Bulma was normally a gracious host but she was aware that she had put this whole mess into motion by inviting the alien pair to stay at Capsule Corp. and now wanted her family's lives to return to normal as soon as possible. Like her husband, she had nothing in common with either Gure or Tarble and would privately be happy to see them on their way. She supposed that she should feel bad knowing that she would probably never see them again, but found that emotion curiously lacking. They were the final loose ends of a cruel monarchy and a war-torn star system. They really had no place here on Earth.

Staying near his father as he watched the pods being prepped for launch, Trunks absorbed the scene with uncharacteristic silence. His eyes darted over to his mother, up at his father, and back again. He was watching his parents acceptance of this sequence of events and feeling their restrained impatience and was trying to sort all out the paradox he was witnessing. He had learned from his mother, practically since birth, that family and friends were important. He could barely recall any times that his grandparents, or Goten, or the rest of Z Fighter's hadn't been around sharing stories and laughter. On the opposite end of the spectrum, his father seemed to thrive on a desperate separate identity. He seemed to convey, through actions and manner, that relying on one's own resources was all that an individual needed to survive. The couple were opposites if ever there were one.

Gure and Tarble were family and yet, in this rare case, his parents seemed united in their haste to let them leave. Trunks uneasily rubbed his neck where the bruises of his father's attack were still visible. It slowly dawned on him that the crazed conflict of the night before wouldn't have happened if not for the pair's unannounced appearance. His father had been out of sorts the moment they'd appeared and his mother hadn't been much better. Trunks had ended up getting hurt and all he could think of was that was the reason behind his relatives hasty departure.

He looked back up at his father, chewed on his bottom lip, and whispered, "Dad . . . is this my fault? Are they leaving because of me?"

Vegeta frowned at him. "Of course not. What makes you think that?"

"Things were fine until you- until I got hurt," he said miserably.

"You were a casualty of the situation, Trunks, not a catalyst. And things were most definitely not fine even before the events of last night."

"Really?"

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"We-eee-ll . . ."

Vegeta's eyes narrowed a fraction. "Say your good-byes, boy."

Trunks got the hint. He ran over to where Tarble was getting Gure settled in her space pod and cleared his throat to get the other man's attention. When the small man turned to look at him, he held out his hand. "It was a pleasure knowing you-"

"Come here, nephew!" Tarble said and pulled the boy in for full body hug. Trunks was caught entirely off guard while Bulma laughed out loud at the shocked expression on her son's face. Trunks was used to being cuffed on the shoulder, which was about as affectionate as Vegeta got, and he found his uncle's affection utterly embarrassing. "Okay, okay! Jeez!" he sputtered, managing to push himself away from the innocent embrace. "Haveanicetripyoutwo," he said, backpedaling, and quickly retreated to where his father was standing.

"Smooth," Vegeta muttered.

Trunks ducked his head, his cheeks brilliantly crimson.

Bulma was still laughing when she easily exchanged hugs with the alien pair. "I made this for you," she said to Gure and handed her a gaily wrapped present.

"Oh! It's so beautiful! Thank you, Bulma!" the petite alien gushed, holding it against her flat chest and nuzzling the bow.

Struggling to keep a straight face, Bulma said, "Uh, that's just the wrapping paper. You have to tear it off to see the actual gift."

Gure's round face was utterly aghast. "But . . . this is too pretty to ruin."

"Honestly, you'll like the present better."

"Oh no, I couldn't rip apart such a painstakingly, thoughtful gesture as-"

"Gure, it's an Earth tradition to-"

Moving in with that unbelievable speed of his, Vegeta plucked the present out of the small alien's grasp, shredded the gold paper with one quick movement, and handed it back. "Problem solved," he said shortly.

"Vegeta!" Bulma hissed at him.

"What? This is taking forever!" the Saiyan shouted back.

The exchange was lost to Gure when she realized what Bulma had given her. "Thank you, Bulma!" she said, holding a duplicate copy of "The Book" that chronicled her Earth's family's events over the last dozen years.

"I've included all of the pictures we've taken since you've arrived here as well," Bulma said, opening it to the last page that had the picture from Trunks cell phone of the two brother's sitting together out on the deck before everything had fallen to pieces. It was a fitting last image if ever there was one.

The two got settled in their space pods and finished preliminary launch diagnostics. Just before the door to Tarble's pod swung closed, Vegeta appeared and leaned in to stare at his brother directly. In a low voice he said, "If you encounter any of Abo and Cado's forces, let them know that I died on Namek. Understand?"

The small man looked astonished. "Why would I say such a thing? I'm happy that I found you!"

Vegeta scowled. "I know how fast word can spread along the space lanes and it wouldn't take long for the wrong people to listen. The penalties for planetary genocide have no expiry date. I know that countless systems exist that still curse my name to this day. I don't need them to rally together and come to Earth to settle an old score. It would end . . . badly."

Translation: There would be a high body count involved. Vegeta might be in self-imposed retirement on Earth but that didn't mean he wouldn't revert back to type if his family were threatened. Tarble certainly didn't want to be the one who could potentially put all that into motion with a careless slip of the tongue. "I can ensure that Gure's kin broadcast that I never found you, if you'd like. It would be subtle and put to rest the rumors that originally brought me here in the first place."

"That would be fine. Prince Vegeta of Planet Vegeta, Elite soldier of Frieza's Planetary Trade Organization is dead," he said. "On Earth, I'm just a non-entity. The husband of Bulma, father of Trunks."

"And brother of Tarble."

". . . Yeah. That, too."

"It will be done," the little Saiyan assured him, holding out his hand. "Thank you for all of your help."

Vegeta shook it but didn't offer any words of farewell. Just an absent nod. He returned to where Bulma and Trunks were standing and, as a silent unit, they watched the two pods blast out of the courtyard until they disappeared from sight.

There was almost a full minute of silence before Bulma finally announced: "Well, that's done." She looked over at the man beside her. "You okay, tough guy?"

"I'm fine," came the expected answer.

"Uh huh." She recognized that pensive, stolid expression on his face and turned to Trunks. "Let's get you inside, young man. With your relatives gone, you can't put off your homework any longer and I know that you have a report due in two days."

"Aw mom . . . "

"Have you even started it?"

"We-eee-ll . . ."

Bulma sighed and steered him in the direction of the building. "That's what I thought. When I was your age I did the same damn thing except in those days . . ."

Their light banter continued as they went inside but Vegeta barely noticed. Head cocked back and arms crossed, he stood outside for a very long time, silently looking up at the azure sky, lost in thought.

Three days later, Vegeta honored his obligation to escort Trunks and Goten to the park. True to her word Bulma tagged along, and for that the Saiyan prince was privately grateful. The two little half-breeds wouldn't dare try even one-quarter of the shit they usually got up to with her included in the mix. The main reason was because of Goten's fear of his mother which carried over to any maternal figure. He deeply respected Bulma and would go out of his way to impress her. Without his usual partner in crime, Trunks had no choice but to cooperate.

For a change, the Paparazzi had dropped the ball and no cameras or film crews were in sight. Yet. The odd civilian whipped out their cell phone for a discrete picture of the wealthy family but were wise not to disturb them. The four enjoyed a filling picnic followed by a trip to the zoo. Vegeta had always avoided this particular area on principle. Animals were things to hunt and eat, not to stare at and fawn over, but he quickly discovered that these pathetic creatures behind their bars and glass were so apathetic that it was little more than one big petting zoo. He stuck to the paths with Bulma while the boys tested the limits of the barriers in their eagerness to see the various animals.

"One time when I took Trunks here I let him out of my sight for just an instant and when I looked back, he had escaped out of his stroller and was trying to climb into the polar bear exhibit," Bulma was telling him. "I just about had a heart attack!"

He frowned. "When was that?"

"Oh, years ago. Trunks couldn't have been older than three."

"You never told me that."

"Sure I did. It just went in one ear and out the other, as usual." She cocked a knowing eyebrow at him. "You and your training."

He grunted, staring over at a lion that was pacing impatiently back and forth from one end of its cage to the other. It's bored, he thought, making eye contact. I know how your feeling. The tawny cat froze in step and lowered it's head, fearlessly matching the gaze. Of the two Vegeta looked away first and the animal went back to its aimless circles as if the exchange had never happened.

"You know, I heard what you said to Tarble before they left," she said.

He stopped in mid-step and looked at her.

"You're not a non-entity," she continued.

"Since when have you developed Namekian hearing?"

She refused to be baited. Her vibrant blue eyes were trained on his face. "Seriously, is that what you think you are?"

"I think where Earth is concerned that you're the queen of this particular empire. I'm just your trophy husband."

"My trophy husband, huh? Jeez, what contest did I lose?"

"Har de har har," he sneered.

"Seriously, you helped build my so-called empire, remember? If I'm the queen, then you're the king. Fifty-fifty, buddy."

"I don't want anything to do with your business. That's all yours. And Trunks," he said stiffly.

"What if Trunks doesn't want to take over Capsule Corp.?" she mused. "I've been thinking about that a lot lately, especially since your brother showed up."

A look of alarm crossed the Saiyan's face. "There's absolutely no way that little wimp could run your company-"

She interrupted him with a surprised burst of laughter. "Oh, god no! That's not what I was thinking at all!"

"Good," he said in relief, instinctively looking for Trunks and Goten and saw that they had moved far ahead, racing to some unknown destination. That wasn't good. Distance lessened the intimidation factor that he and Bulma possessed and without the fear of reprisals, mayhem usually ensued. They had to get the two troublemakers back in close sight before-

"I want to have another child."

The boys were instantly forgotten as he swung his head around to gape at her. ". . . What?"

"Ah, you heard that. Good," she said with a gloating smile.

"You honestly want to get pregnant again? You told me that last time nearly killed you."

"Yes, I told you because you weren't there." She saw the flash of anger in his black eyes and quickly added, "But this time will be different."

"Why's that?"

"Because you'll be with me this time, silly," she said, favoring him with a dazzling, broad smile. Her face was open, and trusting, and completely in love. With him. Just him. How could he not be affected by that?

The tense set of his shoulders eased as he stared back at her. "Yes, I suppose I will," he said, almost as a sigh.

She touched his bottom lip with a perfect nail. "You just 'suppose'?" she whispered, closing the distance between them. "Don't you know for sure?"

"It's a daunting request," he said, smirking slightly. "I might require some . . . persuasion to stick around."

"And what, pray tell, might pique your interest, my dear prince?"

"Oh, I could think of a few things."

"Naughty things?"

"Very."

"Uhm. Just how I like them," she gusted against his lips. They were poised for a torrid kiss when there was a sudden scream from the other end of the zoo. They blinked at each other as if coming out of a spell.

"Those damn brats," Vegeta snarled and ran off like a shot.

Bulma lost sight of him but it wasn't hard to puzzle out where he had gone. Everyone was rushing to the arctic exhibit and she kept even pace with the crowd. Movement slowed around the penguin pool and the people seemed to be gathering there so she elbowed her way to the front and found Vegeta staring down into the huge display. His hands were clasped around the railing so hard that the metal had buckled under his grip.

Trunks and Goten were swimming back and forth in the water trying to catch the frazzled birds. The boys were leaping and diving around and having the time of their lives.

"Hi mom! Hi dad!" Trunks said, adding a wave as he did the backstroke past the stunned audience.

Flashbulbs went off in a flurry and Bulma saw with dread that the cursed Paparazzi had finally made their appearance. Great. More articles for her mother to cut out of the next day's papers and put in "The Book". "Trunks! Goten! Get out of there right now!" she shouted down at them.

"Are you kidding? You're just gonna yell at us!"

"I am not!"

"You're doing it right now!" he shot back and the crowd tittered with amusement.

Goten put in his two cent's worth with: "The water's really nice, missus Bulma. You should join us. You can even take your top off like you do at the pool at home."

This time the crowd exploded into laughter while Bulma blushed.

Throughout it all, Vegeta was looking at his wife. "Another kid. Seriously."

"A girl," she responded. "I've come to the conclusion that all of you boys are insane. I want a daughter this time."

"I don't exactly have control over that, Bulma," he huffed.

"You want a repeat of him?" She pointed down into the exhibit where their son had managed to catch three stunned penguins and was trying to juggle them.

A muscle started jumping in the corner of Vegeta's jaw as he processed the request. "I'll do what I can," he finally muttered and vaulted over the railing to retrieve the two wayward exhibitionists.

In the chaos that ensued, on camera and on film (and later that evening, on the six o'clock news), Bulma had time to reflect that all relationships, for good or ill, carried memories that could later be evaluated, even savored. In a few days she would be laughing herself silly at the sight of Vegeta paddling around the penguin pool as he wrangled the two thrashing youngsters. In spite of some strained events, even Gure and Tarble had contributed their share of positive memories to the Briefs eclectic household and for that, Bulma was extremely grateful.

Yes, family was important. Even if all members did not get along, efforts had been made and she knew her troubled husband was now better for the encounter when all was said and done.

For that matter, they all were.

~ End.