Note: This story is a direct sequel to my earlier story, "Empty House". While there is nothing written in the laws of any nation I am aware of that state that you must read that story first, it is recommended. Like most sequels, there are numerous references to the previous story.

Whether you read the other one or not, I sincerely hope that you enjoy this story!

/

It was three days after the Briefs household had been gloriously reunited. They had flown home immediately and quickly set up everything just as it was a month earlier, replacing everything that had been taken down and, as Trunks had put it, 'unpinkafying' Bulma and Vegeta's room. The rest of that day had been spent with all of them together, simply sitting around and watching movies. All three of them had been battling exhaustion, among other things, and sitting around was all any of them seemed to have the energy for.

The next couple of days were spent quietly. The family tried to fall back into their former routines, but it was proving to be much more difficult than any of them anticipated. The strain of the past month had taken a far more extreme toll on them than anyone had thought. Old traditions like having dinner as a family were awkward, stilted moments that involved little conversation and even less eye contact. They kept themselves isolated from the rest of the group, claiming that they were enjoying some family time, but they had been anything but enjoying it.

Bulma had only gotten parts of her memories back. While there was certainly enough for her to begin reforming her family, it had quickly become apparent that there were still enormous gaps missing. When her son brought something up, she found herself able to catch the reference far fewer times than she would like. Most of the major events were there, but most of the little moments, the ones that people treasure and make them who they are, seemed to still be gone.

It was incredibly frustrating for her. She had been hoping for more 'magic moments' where simple things done around the house would stimulate the right part of her mind to bring back a memory, but since they had returned to Capsule Corp, she had not had another one. She found herself increasingly agitated as she tried to force a jump start on her memories with no success. The harder she tried, the more withdrawn she became.

She felt obligated to spend time with her family, knowing fairly well what they had been through, but at the same time she just wanted to be left alone. As such, she would occupy the same room as her husband and son, but barely interacted directly with them.

Her odd behaviors were lost on no one in the household. Trunks and Vegeta had tried for a few hours to pull her back into their world, to engage her actively in things she had developed a love for in the past decade, but her resistance against them wore them out quickly. They were not interested in starting unnecessary fights with her. Vegeta, in particular, was oddly accommodating to the woman's wishes. He seemed hyper aware of any time she seemed to be getting worked up, and he was mindful to avert them whenever he could. After all, their last big fight they had pushed Trunks to ascend.

Trunks was struggling enough with his own problems. The ascension had forced a radical change to begin in his body that he could not control. He found himself battling fatigue and he found himself prone to breaking out into random sweats. His focus was often shot, and every once in a while it seemed as though he was unaware of his surroundings altogether.

So three days later, the little family sat in their enormous kitchen with their breakfast, and not one of them looked up. The tension in the room was all consuming, and it was more than the youngest prince could endure. He slammed his hands down on the table and screamed, "Oh my god, why won't you even look at us anymore?"

Both adults looked up. Bulma blinked, extremely confused by the outburst. "What?" she asked.

"Trunks!" Vegeta scolded.

"No! I am so sick of this!" the child cried out. "I can't stand the fact that you're so damn hung up on your own problems that you won't even look at us! I swear, Mom, it's like you don't care about us at all!"

Vegeta glared at his son, shouting out, "Trunks!"

The lavender haired boy glared right back at his father with a daring that he had never before shown. "What, you're going to yell at me now? That would actually be fine by me! That's what you do, Dad. But ever since Mom got hurt, I don't even know who you are anymore! I swear, you're worse than Gohan!"

Bulma frowned and reached out for her son. "Honey, please..."

"Don't you dare 'honey' me!" he hissed, pulling away. "You don't get to do that, Mom! You don't get to blow me off and expect me to just deal with it because of some damn term of endearment!"

Vegeta shot to his feet and slammed his hands against the table. "Boy! That is enough!"

Trunks knew that he was walking on thin ice as it was, but he did not want to stop. He had been bottling up so much for so long that he just wanted to scream until it bled out of his system. But he knew that he could not do that, and that there were enough other problems without him having a total meltdown. Frustrated, the child shoved his plate away and stormed out of the room. Neither parent moved after him.

Bulma let out a breath that she did not even realize she had been holding. She slumped down in her chair and looked at the doorway her son had just exited through. "What is the matter with him?" she asked.

Remaining on his feet, Vegeta slowly turned his glare toward his mate. "Are you serious?" he balked.

The heiress raised a drawn in eyebrow at her prince. "What?"

"He just told you!" Vegeta shot back. "How much more clearly does that need to be stated for you? If I can figure out, anyone can!"

Bulma could feel her cheeks turning red, but she did not want to appear as distraught as she felt. "Well," she casually answered, "I think he's exaggerating..."

"The hell he is!" her husband yelled. "You have avoided directly interacting with us since the first morning we were back here!"

"That's a damn lie and you know it!" the heiress furiously defended. "I've spent the entire last two days with the two of you!"

Vegeta circled around the table, approaching her from behind. "No," he lowly spoke, "you have spent the last two days in the same room with us. You have been only allowing us to partake in activities where you do not have to actually talk to us."

Bulma glared at him from over her shoulder, choosing to keep her back to him. She was already tired of the fight, so she tried to change the subject. "So you two don't like movies?" she lamely attempted. "That's what this is about?"

Grabbing her and pulling her up to her feet, Vegeta glared at his woman. "Stop pretending that you're innocent," he hissed. "Stop pretending that you don't care. Stop pretending that everything is fucking fine!"

With anger burning in her eye, Bulma full faced her husband. "Well, it's not like I chose to have this happen to me!" she screamed.

"You think we did?" the Saiyan shot back.

Bulma's eyes grew wide, and she took a step away from the man. "That was low, Vegeta," she whispered, her voice dripping with hurt. "You know damn well that I'm still trying to get back on my feet, and I don't think it's all that unreasonable for me to need a little time before I'm back to whatever self I was before this accident happened!"

Still glaring, Vegeta fully let go of her shoulder. "Fine."

Bulma blinked. "What?"

"Fine," he repeated. "If you need some time, you will have some time. But you need to pay attention to the boy, too. Your life was not the only one that got torn apart, and you know that."

"Well what do you expect me to do?" she genuinely asked.

Vegeta snorted. "Looking at him would be a good start," he growled.

Fury crossed Bulma's face as she hissed back, "I do look at him!"

"Only enough to not run in to him," the prince shot. "You want to get some of your life back? Ask the damn kid questions about your past!"

Slowly, Bulma could feel herself calming down. "I guess I could," she admitted. "Look, I really am sorry about the last couple of days. I got swept up in that first day because I thought that everything was going to come back to me. I thought that this whole damn thing was over. But that didn't happen, and I'm just...I'm so confused about everything."

Vegeta sighed and sat back down, his meal completely forgotten. "I know."

"I just want this to go away," Bulma softly went on, also taking a seat. "I want it to all go away."

"It's not going to."

Paling slightly, the heiress slowly turned her head toward her husband. "What did you say?"

"I said…"

"Why do you have to say that?" she interrupted with a horrified gasp.

"Because it's true," he callously replied. "I fail to see what lying to you would accomplish other than building up a hope that cannot possibly be fulfilled."

Frustrated, Bulma got back to her feet, smacking the table as she went. "Why can't you ever be supportive?" she demanded in an accusatory tone. "Why can't you ever do something for someone else?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" the prince shouted back. "I have bowed to your every need since you went over that damn cliff! I have done nothing to harm you or upset you!"

"Oh, don't give me that crap," the heiress sneered. "You were deliberately goading me on just a few nights ago!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes but remained in his seat. "Goading you on is not harming you," he reasoned.

"It is when I'm an emotional wreck!" Bulma retaliated.

"Well, you didn't seem all that upset when I started!" Vegeta shot back. "You claim to desire a return to normalcy for us, but the few moments we spend actually behaving the way we normally do, you immediately shut down! It is not going to be fast, Bulma. It is not going to be easy. And it sure as hell is not going to be fun. But if you actually want to get your damn life back, stop blocking us out!"

The room fell deathly silent. In all the years they had been together, rarely had Vegeta opened up to that magnitude. In fact, with Bulma's broken memories, she could not even remember that handful of times. It was a wild departure from what either of them were comfortable with.

Letting out a very frustrated huff, Vegeta shook his head. "You want time?" he bit out. "Fine." He shoved himself away from the table and began to leave the room, fed up. The urge to crank up the gravity as far as it could go seemed so satisfying at the moment. That usually helped.

But his path was blocked by the balded human woman. "No," she firmly stated. "Don't go."

"Why, are you not done blaming me for your problems yet?" he retorted.

"No," the heiress calmly answered, "I just…" She sighed and shook her head. "You made a good point."

That certainly was not what the prince had been expecting. "Come again?"

"You were right," Bulma restated. "I need to let you guys be yourselves. I've been trying too hard to control everything, and that's clearly not helping. So I guess the next step is to try to engage in what you two would deem to be the norm." She sighed and shook her head again. "I really, really want to get it all back." Softly, gently, she looked her prince in the eye. "I want to get everything I had with you back."

Feeling oddly fatigued, Vegeta simply watched his wife. He remained silent.

Slowly, the heiress took two steps toward her man. "To that end," she seductively stated, placing a hand on his broad chest, "I believe that it would be mutually beneficial for us to engage in the one activity that I know we do very, very well together."

Although they were stressed and worn and emotionally drained more than they would dare to admit, they barely hesitated before grabbing each other. They quickly made their way up to their newly decorated room, breaking in their navy blue sheets. It was where they were comfortable. It was where they were free. It was where they secure.

At that moment, it was all they had.