Chapter 1)

She was paralyzed. The more she tried to will her feet to run the harder she found it was to even contemplate the action. Her throat was swelled shut, the inability to scream tormenting her brain in a way of psychological torture. He walked towards her, slowly, with purpose. Knowing she had no where to go, knowing she had no one to come save her. She could feel the beads of sweat forming at her brown as she again prayed to any one listening to get her out of this situation. All hope was lost though as he snaked a pale green hand out to wrap itself around her waist. His cold fingers digging into her soft skin, instantly bruising her. He pulled her towards him, her feet seemingly willingly moving her body for her as she tried to protest. He chuckled darkly, seeing the agony in her eyes. His face was very much human, but everything about his screamed monster.

"What's wrong Princess?" he whispered in a tone that may come across as seductive had it been anyone else. Anyone human. He used his other free hand to slide across he contours of her stomach, tracing a sick line from her naval, between her breasts, and resting on her collar bone. She bit her lip finding it the only release she was allowed from this torture. He laughed as he leaned his face down close to her neck. Inhaling the scent she gave off. "Don't you want this?" he teased as he nipped at her ear, drawing blood while pain surged through her nerves. Her mind shook and screamed while her body betrayed her with it's stillness. She never even feel him move as suddenly her shirt was torn from her body and his hand was on her again. Roughly squeezing her breasts until she felt she would pass out from the pain. Instead her face remained impassive. He snaked his tongue across her lips demanding entrance as he forced her knees apart with a single motion, instantly breaking her left hip in the process. Her chest pounded wildly begging for this to be over, defeat at the situation filling her soul. She was too weak to stop him. He would use her and kill her. She closed her eyes as tight as she could trying to ignore the sudden hardness rubbing against her center, trying to find it's mark.

"What's wrong Princess?" suddenly the voice changed to a more familiar husky sound. Vegeta's voice pounded in her ears forcing her to open her eyes, only to be met with the cold pink ones of Cell smiling back at her as he shoved the length of him inside of her. Finally she was able to scream as a blood curdling sound of death freed itself from her throat. "I thought you liked your men evil?"

Bulma shot up from bed her heart racing, the sheets glued to her body from the heavy coat of sweat she wore. She immediately felt with her fingers along her body. Checking for bruises, for broken bones, for any sign that the dream hadn't been a dream at all. That he had been there. Cell, coming after her. Attacking, molesting, raping and destroying her. She couldn't stop the tears from falling freely down her face though she refused to sob. The nightmares were becoming more frequent over the past few months though she had no idea why. She had never even met the monstrous Cell, never been within a dangerous distance of him, and still he tormented her. What was worse though, was when his voice switched to Vegetas. Sometimes he would have his face. Sometimes it would be his scent, his taste…but to hear his voice attached with that horror…

She glanced to her left and saw Vegeta lying on his back, staring directly at her. She wanted to jump again, but found herself paralyzing herself by her own fears.

"Cell?" he asked. His voice tense and accusing. She nodded knowing he didn't require or specifically want a more detailed answer. "He's dead Woman. He's been dead for six years now." She nodded again, dragging her knees up to her chin to bury her face in the blankets. She couldn't expect him to understand the true horror behind these nightmares. The statements that always concluded the dreams with his own personal touch.

"I thought you liked your men evil."

She felt the bed jerk and knew that Vegeta had gotten up. She twisted her head an inch to watch him stretch his back, the muscles tearing across his skin before grabbing a plain black tshirt from atop the dresser and throwing it on. He must have slept in his training shorts, she mused.

"Where are you going?" she asked when she finally found her voice despite already knowing the answer. The routine had been the same for a few years now but she always found herself wishing just once he would stay with her. Help her fall back asleep and protect her from the nightmares.

"To wake the boy." He glanced over his shoulder at the woman still sitting in the bed. Misery was etched in her face, her blue eyes wide with fear and panic. It reminded him too much of the females from planets he would purge. He knew how to cause this look, not cure it. "We'll be back for breakfast by seven." He gruffly said before pushing out the door.

Bulma looked at the clock sitting on Vegeta's bedside table and frowned. It was barely four in the morning. She knew she should try to fall back asleep but the effort felt useless. She would toss and turn without Vegeta there to calm her nerves. Even though he would physically do nothing to comfort her, just having him close made her feel safer. Sighing she tossed the sheets to the end of the bed and paced around the room, looking for some clothes in the dark. She was half dressed in a causal red dress when she decided she should probably take a shower. As she walked into their bathroom she distantly heard the sound of the gravity room powering on.

Vegeta pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked the distance from his room to his sons. The woman's nightmares were becoming more violent as the nights passed. Months ago she had merely woken up slightly out of breath and a bit worried, but had fallen back to sleep fairly quickly. Now, she tossed and turned for hours. Screaming out in her sleep as twisted looks of horror flashed across her face. He would wake immediately, unsure how to rouse her but even more unsure of what to do once she was awake. He was confused as to why these nightmares plagued her. She had never had the pleasure of dealing with Cell first hand, and she lived in a house with two Saiyan males. She was more protected here than if she slept in a steel bunker with the army guarding her door.

He rubbed his eyes as he approached Trunk's room, standing outside the door for a moment to collect himself and put the issue to rest. He hadn't been getting much sleep lately, staying alert to keep an eye on the woman as she tossed and turned, but he would not let exhaustion prevent him from fulfilling his goal. His son had to be stronger than Kakarotts brats.

A deep sense of regret filled his chest as he thought of his former nemesis. Once again Kakarott had found a way to avoid partaking in the fight that would finally prove Vegeta's strength against the lower class Saiyan. A fight that would restore his honor for his people, his family, and himself. He cheeks automatically colored a bit in embarrassment at the fact that it had been Kakarott, not he, to defeat Freiza and end his terror on the galaxy. It had been Kakarott, not Vegeta to first rise and ascend to the greatest honor of Super Saiyan, and it was Kakarotts half-breed brat that rose to the occasion and beat Cell while he helplessly stood by the side. Vegeta ground his teeth and straightened his shoulders. Yes, he may have been bested by a teenage half-breed but he would not let that be an issue any longer. He would not stop until he and Trunks were once again rightfully place as rulers of the galaxy as the world's strongest fighters.

Vegeta twisted the knob and walked into his young sons bedroom and crossed his arms over his chest. The boy slept exactly like his mother did when she had a peaceful night. One arm draped over his eyes and the rest of his limbs spread apart as far as possible. Almost as if he'd fainted onto the bed. He cleared his throat and smirked when Trunks jumped straight into the air, his stance ready for an attack.

"I would say that was adequate except I was clearly able to just saunter in here with you still dead to the world. If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead." Trunks lowered himself back to the floor and yawned, stretching his arms and back as he did, mimicking his fathers earlier movements. Vegeta carefully analyzed his son's current condition, debating with himself whether to push his son to the brink, or slightly past. The child's eyes sagged with sleep deprivation and his hair stuck up in several places. He desperately needed a shower, a long nights rest, and a warm meal but Vegeta knew these conditions would only spoil his son into thinking that peace would always exist. To Trunks' credit though, he never complained. He stood there silently and respectfully as his father gave him a once over.

"Are we practicing outside or inside today Dad?"

"Hn. Outside. I don't think your frail human limbs could tolerate much of the Gravity Room today. Trunks glared at his father.

"I'm not a frail human. I could easily withstand three hundred times this planets gravity." Vegeta smirked. It was the exact response he had been hoping for. It was times like these that Vegeta felt genuinely closer to the boy, as they mocked and looked down on the human race. As time passed he found himself tolerating their pathetic excuses for technology and strength, but it was lonely being the absolute best and having no one else to talk about it with. Bulma was under the impression that she was a genius. As while for this planet, yes she was considered beyond her generation, Vegeta knew of distant galaxies that made her look as if she had barely begun to think outside of the box. Not that Vegeta prided himself on his scientific research, he knew he was a warrior first and foremost, but after witnessing cultures that could build machines capable of restoring life and healing wounds in a matter of minutes…band aids and aspirin didn't seem very impressive. He had raised Trunks to be respectful of his human half, but to lay all pride on his Saiyan heritage. He was royalty after all, even if the planet was long dead and gone.

"Then quit your pointless mouthing off and get your ass to the training chamber."

She sat at the table flipping through a magazine as another dozen waffles appeared in front of her, only to disappear a second later by greedy fingertips. The cooking bot immediately went back to preparing another batch trying it's best to keep up with the two famished Saiyans as they shoveled food into their mouths at lightning speed. Another page turned, another dozen waffles gone. She couldn't help but smirk as she glanced up from her words and caught sight of the man she had come to love so deeply. His cheeks bulging ungracefully, a dot of syrup glued to the corner of his mouth. In every way the man carried himself as a regal, except when it came time to eating. She once again wondered if this was a common trait for all Saiyans regardless of class, or if perhaps Goku and Vegeta ate this way because their parents were taken away from them before they were taught their table manners.

A quick glance in the other direction gave proof towards her nurture over nature theory though as Trunks, while eating extremely quickly for a boy his size and age, managed to take bite sized portions, and thoroughly chew before putting more food in. The boy ate Saiyan portions, but at a human pace.

"More eggs?" she asked while handing the plate automatically to Vegeta. He grunted in acknowledgment before dumping the entire portion onto his own setting. Barely noticing the giant yawn that stretched across her entire face.

"Are you ok Mom?" Trunks asked in between bites. "You look tired." Bulma tried her best to smile as reassuringly as possible.

"I'm fine, just a bit sleepy. I'll take a nap a little later today. More importantly," she leaned forward, pushing her magazine off to the side. "We should talk about what you want to do for your birthday." Trunks eyes lit up in excitement until he heard his father stop chewing. He only needed to meet Vegeta's eyes for a moment before the message was received. Only Humanscelebrate birthdays.

"Um, that's ok Mom… I think I'm getting a little bit old celebrate my birthday." Bulma could hear the strain in his voice as he tried his best to lie convincingly. When she heard Vegeta's fork scrapping back against his plate she understood.

"Trunks, you're turning eight this year! You're supposed to have a party with all your friends, and cakes and presents…or we can go somewhere like an amusement park or the zoo…" Bulma sank back in her chair noticing sadly that disappointment etched itself deeper and deeper into the young boys face at every suggestion he would love to act on, but forbidden to do so. Bulma bit her bottom lip to keep from screaming as Vegeta slowly and deliberately scrapped the food off his plate before piling it in his mouth. Monitoring his sons response to his mothers suggestions. "Sweetheart why don't you take your plate in the living room and watch some cartoons? I want to talk to your father." Her voice dropped on the last word and both men's heads snapped up.

Vegeta was in no way afraid of the woman sitting next to him, but something in the glare she now gave him made him swallow just a bit harder than he intended. Trunks decided not to waste this rare opportunity and grabbed his plates before dashing off to the living room before his mother could change her mind. When he was out of earshot Vegeta set his fork onto his plate and pushed his chair back from the table.

"Vegeta."

"Yes?"

"Can you please tell me why our son doesn't want a birthday party?" She folded her arms across her chest, a habit she long ago picked up from the man she now addressed. He shrugged and matched her arms with his own. Both parties silently alerting the other they were not backing down from this.

"Because it's a waste of time. Every year we throw him a stupid birthday party with all of your friends attending where all they do is eat and talk and then leave. I can think of at least a thousand ways to better serve the time."

"Vegeta a birthday party is a celebration of the day you were born! It's a fun excuse to get together with friends and have a party. I wouldn't consider fun and socialization to be a waste of time."

"Of course you wouldn't. Because when the time comes that a persons strength is tested you are never anywhere to be found. The boy must train to become stronger."

"Trunks is only eight! What possible threat could come along that he would need to defeat? And better yet, what could possibly come along that would need him to fight alone? Are you honestly that paranoid of not being the best that you can't take a few hours once a year to have some fun?" Vegeta's face burned red as he turned his face away from her.

"Not every was able to grow up without reason to be paranoid." He spat. "Some of us were forced to learn at an early age that safety and peace were luxuries few and far between. Do not mock my reasons for training the boy when it will end up saving his life and most likely saving yours. I will raise my son as he would have been trained on our planet. I will train him to be royalty and respected. I will train him to defeat the weakness of this mundane mud ball and I will train him to destroy our enemies!"

"So basically you're trying to turn him into you!" she shouted back. "News flash Vegeta, up until very recently you were MISERABLE with your life. Always fighting and worrying about who else is out there, who could possible be stronger…this…this intense dependence on your stupid pride… don't you ever miss smiling or laughing or just having fun? God Vegeta, I know I would love the chance to actually have some fun with you. Do you realize that we have NEVER been on a real date before? That we have NEVER done ANYTHING as a couple besides the fucking?" She shoved her chair back and stormed out of the room needing to get away from him. "I love you Vegeta…I honestly do…but sometimes I just wish you were more…human."

Vegeta felt as if he had just been slapped in the face. He let her leave, knowing that if he saw her again he wouldn't be able to contain his anger. Her words stung him deeper than she could possibly understand. He sat in the kitchen for what felt like hours mulling over her words as they tossed themselves around and around in his head. Was he really miserable? True, he had grown up a slave, forced to work for the creature responsible for destroying millions of lives, including those of his own family. He had been beaten, tortured, forced to watch horrible acts against humanity and been forced into partaking in things that were still unspeakable. He had lost his pride to a third class clown, tarnished his blood line with that of a human female, and had let himself fall to a place where said female was allowed to speak to him with such disrespect and remain alive. Was he miserable?

Yes.

But not with his past. He was Saiyan. He was from a race that thrived on the battle. Yearned for the blood of his enemies, and found excitement in the hunt. They never had any fun? Bulma could never stomach Vegeta's form of entertainment. Purging an entire planet…forcing the parents watch as their children begged for mercy. Fun was having the power to flaunt over everyone and seeing the recognition in their eyes as they realized how helpless they truly were. He struggled to understand her concept of fun. Sitting in a dark room silently listening to people play music? Sitting in another dark room silent to watch a movie? Sitting in a silent room watching other people walk around and talk? Humans found entertainment in laziness. In watching others partake while they lounged in silence. Vegeta needed activity. Bulma craved stillness. Still, he knew that he would cave to her. Because this was her home. Her planet. And as much as Bulma tried to make this his home as well, Vegeta knew he would always just be the evil Saiyan alien.

But he kind of liked it that way.