Heh, I just had to pull this. That stupid comment of Chi-Chi's and it put a bug in my brain. Now, I can't decide. Should this be a one-shot, or should it continue? It would do good either way… I think.

--------------------

Bulma watched Goku playing with the boys, her mind a jumble of memories. Their first meeting, his first bath. Swimming parties, tournaments, and all the crazy things they'd done and dealt with on their dragon ball searches. The tournaments, his wedding. Finding out he was a Saiyan, learning he'd died. Going to Namek, that horrible dream where Vegeta had been trying to kill her, and then actually meeting the temperamental Saiyan.

Goku's almost unfailing happiness, Vegeta's never-failing moodiness. Constant smile and constant scowl. And yet, she'd fallen for the shorter Saiyan, and fallen hard. Her gaze drifted to him. He stood apart from the others, staring out the window. He looked little different than he had when they'd first met. Oh, more defined, more chiseled, a little older, but he hadn't changed much. He even still watched the stars, straining to see the faint light that had once been his home.

She looked back at Goku. He had never cared that he had been born a Saiyan, or that his home planet had been destroyed. He'd lost all memories of such very shortly after he'd arrived on Earth, and considered himself an Earthling. He never made any bones about not caring much about his old race, in spite of Vegeta constantly trying to instruct him in the ways of a true Saiyan. A fond smile crossed her lips, if Goku recalled any of what Vegeta told him, it was probably fighting styles or techniques.

Bulma glanced at Chi-Chi, then followed her husband's gaze out the window. Yes, the stars, as she'd thought. She wondered if anyone had ever told Chi-Chi what Goku had said on the Kai world, then grinned. No, Goku was still alive and in one piece.

"What's so funny?"

"EEEP! Oh, Yamcha! Don't sneak up on a girl like that?"

"Why not? Most girls like having me sneak up on them."

"Very funny."

He laughed. "Come on, Bulma. You don't seem to be enjoying yourself much. Maybe you need some more food."

"Not me. I don't have a Saiyan's appetite!" But she agreed to dance with him, and chatted easily with him as they danced.

Vegeta stared out the window, looking for the faint red light of his destroyed home world. The dim lighting of the party made it harder to see outside, but he didn't allow that to hinder the search. The slightest of smiles crossed his face, a sad regret lingering in his eyes as he found it.

Home.

He missed it, for all that he had been taken away very young, for all that it had been destroyed before he had ever had a chance to return. True, he had a new home, a new family, and even a fellow Saiyan to fight with. Yet still…. He shook his head, fighting off the melancholy.

He turned from the window, his gaze roving over the revitalized party. Goku had arrived, and those who had planned to leave had stayed, instead. "Come on, Bulma. The king wants his dinner."

The king. He turned again to the window. King. His eyes sought the red star that shone so faintly, the light of his dead world. King Vegeta, he would have been, just as his father had been. King of the Saiyans. The Prince of all Saiyans, that was what he called himself. A lie. A lie, and he knew it. There was only one other Saiyan, and that one did not call him Prince or King, did not consider him as a prince or a king, merely a friend and convenient sparring partner.

Goku paused in the act of taking a bite out of the latest drumstick he held, having decided a snack was in order. "Fwt!!!" He swallowed hastily. "She didn't!"

"Uh-hu, Daddy. She said he wasn't as sweet, but he was more dependable," Goten replied earnestly.

"Oh wow. Gee, I must've made her a lot madder than I thought." Goku shot a look at his wife, laughing at something 18 had said. She didn't look mad, but she'd sure yelled at him when he'd got here. He finished off the drumstick, managing to tickle both boys at the same time. They shrieked, and took off running.

Man, did I really make her that mad? Mad enough she'd trade me for Vegeta? But, she hates Vegeta. I thought she hated Vegeta. She gripes about him more than she does about me… and I live with her. Oh, man, what if she meant it? What if she really doesn't want me around anymore? It's not like I've really been there for her.

Already wide eyes widened a bit further. Ah, man, I haven't been there for her. When I was alive, I was always off fighting someone, or training for a tournament, or just training for fun. And I couldn't be here at all while I was dead, and the one time I did come back, I was fighting instead of spending time with her. Goku felt sick suddenly. She must mean it. Cause I haven't changed at all. I'm still not here for her, even though I'm alive again.

He got up from the table, walking slowly through the room. Krillen and Oolong both talked with him for awhile, and he knew he was saying something to them, but he was so frozen he didn't know what he said. His smile was firmly in place, laughing just like always. Roshi joined them, raving on about some new magazine, and he excused himself from the conversation.

He found himself out in the garden, where the stereo played. Gohan and Videl were dancing, Yamcha and Bulma. Goku's smile slipped slightly, but he recovered quickly. The song ended, he asked Bulma for the next dance. Yamcha laughed and released her, heading back inside to talk with Krillen.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself. Wasn't the last time we danced at your wedding?" Bulma adjusted his hands for him, he didn't seem to know what to do with them. "You still don't know how to dance well, do you?"

"Ah, no, not really. Like this?" He began moving, taking care not to step on her toes.

"How about I lead instead?"

"Sure."

"You don't sound happy to be dancing with me, Goku," she teased.

"Chi-Chi… wanted to trade me…" he whispered.

She looked up, a little surprised that he knew. He still smiled, but his eyes were full of agony. "Oh, Goku, she was just teasing. You shouldn't take that seriously."

"Are you sure?"

He sounded so uncertain that she stopped dancing, and pulled him outside. "Goku, what is wrong with you? Of course she was just teasing. You don't seriously believe that Chi-Chi would ever really want to live with Vegeta, do you? I mean, think about it!"

"I did." He sank onto one of the garden benches. "I did. I think she meant it. I really do."

Bulma sat beside him, cupping his face with one hand. Her other settled lightly over one of his. "Goku, there is no way Chi-Chi meant what she said. She wouldn't be able to tolerate Vegeta's attitude for more than an hour, and we both know it. She thinks he's arrogant, mean, full of himself, bossy, selfish, and unbelievably rude."

"I know. But he's dependable." A single tear brimmed and fell. "I'm not. I know I'm not."

"You help with the chores. Vegeta doesn't. Ever." Her tone was slightly bitter. "How long would she put up with that?"

"She's used to it, Bulma. I was always gone. Fighting, or dead, or training. I'm always gone."

"No, Goku. You spend more time with Chi-Chi than Vegeta does with me. She loves you. She won't trade you for him, not now, not ever. Stop worrying about it. She was just mad, she didn't mean it."

"But why? How did I make her so mad? What did I do?"

"It's what you didn't do, Goku." Bulma sighed, her thumb brushing gently, comfortingly, along his face. "You were supposed to come with her to the party. You were supposed to be there. And you were off watching eggs hatch, instead. She was dancing for us, and Dende said something about…" Bulma paused trying to remember his words. "Um, how only Goku's wife would dance like that. And I said that it just wasn't the same without you, and that's what happened."

"It wasn't the same?" Another few tears fell, she wiped them away. "But why trade me? Am I such a horrible husband?"

Bulma caught his face with both hands, forced him to look at her. "Goku, she does not think you are a horrible husband. She thought you were very inconsiderate, and she was right. You were horribly inconsiderate. But she does not want to trade you. She only said that because she was mad. She was just mad. She didn't mean it. Goku! Chi-Chi will not trade you for Vegeta. Understand?"

"Yeah." His voice was very small, but he was nodding. Bulma stood, ruffling his hair.

"Good. Now that that's settled, why don't you take her home?"

"You don't want me around, either?"

"Goku, the sun is coming up. I am going to send everyone home. They've been here all night! Your son needs to go to bed."

Bulma stretched, then shimmied the silken nightie over her hips. Vegeta was in bed, sound asleep. Unusual for him, normally he was getting up to train now. But then, he hadn't been in bed very long. She slid in next to him, glad it was a weekend. She didn't have to be anywhere today, so she could sleep and recover from the party.

A little grimace appeared as she thought over what had happened. She still couldn't believe Chi-Chi had made such a ridiculous suggestion. Trading Goku for Vegeta. As if they would ever do that! And yet, Vegeta hadn't gotten upset at all. He smiled. That was it. A little smile. No freaking out, no objections. I would have expected that - but I was madder and more offended than he was. I don't understand. Why wasn't he upset? As jealous as he's always been of Goku, as often as he tears him down if I praise him, he didn't worry that I might agree? He goes on and on about Goku being nothing more than a low-class Saiyan, even though he knows Goku is stronger than he is, if I mention anything Goku and I did when we were kids. But he's not worried when Goku's wife offers to trade me the Saiyan I decided not to take?

Her thoughts turned to Namek. Namek… the planet that had brought Vegeta so permanently into her life. She remembered being afraid of him, terrified, actually. She remembered watching the clouds, wondering if she'd let the good one get away. Had she? Bulma reached out, almost touching her husband's face, then withdrew her hand. No, she had a good one. Vegeta is good to me. We fight a lot, but I give as good as I get. I used to yell at Goku all the time too. But… did I admire him more? He was just a kid, but he was always doing such insane things - like beating an entire army by himself. Vegeta was Mr. Evil when I met him. It took him a long time to come around, to begin to show that he cared about anything other than power. He even would have let Trunks and I die when the androids came. It wasn't until much later…. She sighed. It doesn't really matter.

"B…Bulma?" Bulma turned, seeking the owner of the hoarse whisper. "Bulma?"

"Goku?" She sat up, confused. "What are you doing in my bedroom?"

"Bulma?" She heard his voice catch, the shaky release. "Bulma…" Suddenly, she had a lapful of Saiyan, a shivering, trembling Saiyan who was crying too hard to talk.

"Goku?! Goku, what's wrong?" She patted his head, stroking her fingers through the spikes. "Calm down. What's happened?" His answer was to wrap his arms around her waist, burying his face more firmly into her lap as he cried.

"What is going on?" Vegeta muttered, still more asleep than awake.

"I don't know. Maybe you can get through to him?"

"Him?" Vegeta sat up, took in the sight of his greatest rival and friend sobbing like a child in his wife's arms. "What the… Your wife throw you out again?"

"She…" That was the only word Bulma was able to understand, but Vegeta seemed able to tell what he was saying.

"SHE WHAT?" he yelped. "I will NOT."

"What?"

"She expects me to go stay with her in exchange for him staying with you," Vegeta snarled. "Is the bitch insane? I'd miss too much training!"

Bulma's comforting hand suddenly clenched Goku's hair, pulling hard enough to cause a pain-filled yelp to escape from among the heartbroken sobs. She patted his head gently to apologize for being mean. "I guess that means I have to calm him down. You're already late for your training."

Vegeta seemed to suddenly realize the sun was well up. A moment later, he was gone. Bulma's breath caught slightly, but she returned immediately to the task of soothing her oldest friend. "Goku, please. Tell me what happened."

She got the story in bits and pieces. He'd done as she said, and taken his family home. They'd put Goten to bed, and then gone to get ready for bed themselves. He'd done something to make her mad, and wasn't really sure what. All he'd done was get ready for bed, but Chi-Chi had rounded on him suddenly, yelling at him for "being me, I guess. I didn't do anything different. I didn't even rip my clothes, or drop them on the floor. I put them in the hamper, like she always tells me to. I don't know what I did. I don't, Bulma, really I don't."

He was sitting on the bed by the time she got that much out of him, his head resting against her chest, arms still wrapped around her. "She kept saying something about a garden. I thought maybe I was supposed to have weeded ours, but when I asked her if that was what it was, she hit me. I was at the top of the stairs, and fell all the way down. And she…" He hiccupped, scrubbed at his streaming eyes. "She told me to get out of her house. That I wasn't welcome… that I should go stay with you… and have you send Vegeta to her. She said he'd be a better mate than I was. She said Roshi would be a better mate than I am." He dissolved into incoherence again.

Bulma blinked. She knew Chi-Chi had a temper, and occasionally had whopped Goku with a frying pan for getting into food before he was supposed to, but knocking him down the stairs? And telling him that Roshi would be a better mate than he was? Maybe Vegeta had a point about her being insane.

Goku's words became clear again, as he told her about sleeping outside, then weeding the garden, trying to undo whatever bad thing he'd done, or simple thing he'd forgotten. He'd taken care of the wood, gotten all of his chores done, even taken out the trash and cleaned the kitchen. He told her how he had groveled, literally on his knees, pleading for his wife's forgiveness. Chi-Chi's answer had been to smash her foot between his legs and her fist into his nose. She'd kicked him in the ribs a few time for good measure, and told him again to get out. Then she'd gone inside and slammed the door behind her.

"What did I do?" He drew away enough to look at her. "What did I do?"

"I don't know, Goku." Bulma snatched a tissue from the bedside table, mopping his face gently. "You can stay here until she gets over it. I've got plenty of room."

"No. No, I have to go home. I flew here, I'll fly back. She shouldn't still be mad when I get home. She doesn't stay mad at me for very long." He sounded like he was trying to make himself believe it, sitting back and gathering the remaining shreds of his composure. "I'll just… I'll just get myself cleaned up and go on home, Bulma. I'm sorry I cried all over you like that. She was just mad. I… she didn't mean it."

"All right, Goku." She ruffled his hair once more, then steered him to the bathroom before snuggling back into her pillows.

Goku flew home slowly, going over everything he'd done. He'd been late for the party, but Chi-Chi hadn't seemed all that mad at him, after the initial outburst. He'd behaved himself, and had even eaten less sloppily than normal. He'd laughed and talked with all his friends. He'd danced with her, with 18, with Bulma. So he'd behaved properly, hadn't he?

He'd taken her and the boys home, helped with getting Goten ready for bed. He'd checked in on Gohan, reminding him to make sure he got his homework done when he got up. That certainly couldn't have been what made her mad. Then, he'd gone to their room. Had he done something wrong there?

Goku turned over every action in his mind as he flew along. He couldn't think of a single thing he'd done that would have made her so angry. How could he apologize when he didn't know what it was he'd done wrong? Oh well, he'd try. There was the house, just ahead. He slowed, dropping down to land just outside the gate.

Vegeta punched air, dodged a bolt one of the training bots sent at him. His body was drenched in sweat, each movement causing him pain now. Still he fought the shadows, until at last he lay on the floor, gasping. He called out the command to stop the program, forcing himself to flop over onto his back.

He gazed up at the ceiling, a customary scowl darkening his face. Waking up to Kakarot in his bedroom, wrapped around his wife, had not been the best way to wake up. Discovering the fool's wife had repeated her insane request to trade mates hadn't improved his temper any. Remembering the conversation he'd overheard between the clown and his wife had sent him to the gravity room to beat up his demons. She kept saying how Chi-Chi would never actually trade Kakarot for me. But not once did she say she would not trade me for Kakarot.

His gaze grew introspective as he turned that over in his mind, considering the implications. She had been trying to soothe Kakarot, of course. It was Kakarot's wife whom had proposed that ridiculous trade, after all. Bulma had seemed miffed. Yet, she hadn't tried to make Kakarot leave their room, had seemed more concerned over Kakarot than about him. Was it possible that she would consider such a trade? Gah, he was so tired he wasn't making sense.

Perhaps he should consider returning to bed. He was halfway there when he sensed Kakarot behind him. "What do you want?"

"My grandpa."

The answer was so strange that Vegeta whirled around to confront the larger man. "What makes you think…" he began as he turned, only to stop and stare in astonishment. "What happened to you?"

"It's not a good idea to try to apologize for something when you don't know what you did wrong, and the woman you're apologizing to has a big knife in her hand." Goku swayed unsteadily, one hand gripped tightly around the wound in the arm he held against his gashed chest. His normally orange gi was dark with blood, and slashed up. "Could I stay here for a few days?"

Vegeta snorted. "As if Bulma would let me say no. Go ahead, choose a room. I certainly don't care."

Goku took two steps, and fell flat on his face. The back of the shirt was ribbons, his back running freely with blood from the numerous wounds. Vegeta shut his gaping mouth and moved with amazing speed, given his own condition. He sent a servant after Bulma, and put Goku in the first guest room he came to. He'd gotten the other man stripped by the time his wife arrived.

"His wife wasn't happy to have him come home." He walked from the room, knowing perfectly well his wife would be well able to tend her friend. She'd had to tend him often enough, he was sure Kakarot wouldn't be nearly as much trouble. His own wounds he would tend himself.

"Goku? Oh, Goku!" Bulma set to work immediately. She never seemed to have any senzu beans when she really needed them. "Oh, what happened?"

"Chi-Chi was still mad."

"CHI-CHI DID THIS?!!!!" Bulma yelped, pausing momentarily in her work to repair him.

"I shouldn't've said anything," Goku murmured tiredly. "I shouldn't've gone home so soon, I guess."

"You just plan on staying here until you're all healed up, Goku," Bulma said firmly. "You're in no condition to go anywhere anyway."

"Is it okay if I take a nap now?"

In spite of her anger, Bulma had to laugh. "Yes, Goku. Go to sleep."

"You stabbed him, Chi-Chi! What in the world did he do?"

"As if you don't know!" the other woman snarled.

"How could I?" Bulma asked, completely confused. "He couldn't stay awake long enough to tell me anything other than that you were still mad! Honestly, I don't think he knows what he did."

There was a moment of silence from the phone. "In the garden, at your party. Ring any bells?"

"At my party?" Bulma frowned. "The garden?" A perfectly manicured fingernail rubbed thoughtfully at her nose. "Oh! Do you mean when I was trying to calm him down?"

"CALM HIM DOWN????!!!"

"He'd heard about your offer to trade him for Vegeta. He got really upset…. I took him outside to calm him down. I told him you weren't serious. But he seemed to think that he had to be a terrible husband, since you'd suggested it, and it took me forever to convince him that you were just mad because he'd put something else ahead of you again. Although I don't think I got that through his thick skull. He kept saying you had to be serious because he knew he wasn't dependable."

The silence this time was very long. "I was serious. I still am. Don't bother to send him back." The line went dead.

Bulma hung the phone up. She walked to the kitchen, and began making enough sandwiches to feed three starving Saiyans. After a moment of reflection, she made enough for four. Goten was probably with Trunks. She piled a great many of them on a tray, and made her way to Goku's room. "Hey. You hungry?"

Goku eyed the tray of sandwiches. "Always!"

"I thought so." She set the tray down, helped him get comfortable, then settled it across his lap. "Enjoy. I never did learn more than the basics in the kitchen."

"You didn't need to," Goku said through the mouthful of sandwich he'd bitten off.

"True, but I married a Saiyan. I should at least learn to burn a steak properly." She stared out the window, not noticing that Goku had put down a half-eaten sandwich.

"Is something wrong? I mean, with you and Vegeta? Should…" Goku winced suddenly, realizing that offering to talk to Vegeta was one of the stupidest things he could suggest. He couldn't keep his wife happy, how could he advise Vegeta on such a thing?

"No, not really. I'm used to it."

"What? Used to what?" Goku sat up, reaching out for her without thinking. "OWWW!" He slumped back against his pillows.

"Goku?" Bulma turned from the window. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." He grinned, as if to prove it. "What did you mean, used to it?"

"Him being himself." Good an explanation as any, Bulma thought. "Me being me."

"Ummm… okay." He picked up his discarded sandwich, disposing of it in two bites. The remaining sandwiches followed swiftly. "I just thought something was wrong."

Bulma looked at him, sheet up to his waist and bandages covering most of his exposed body. "There's nothing wrong with me, Goku." She couldn't bring herself to admit that something was wrong. How was she supposed to tell her best friend that his wife really didn't want him back?

"Is it me?" He touched the bandages. "I'm healing okay, aren't I?"

"You're healing fine."

"Oh, good. I really want to go home." He blinked at the look he caught as she whirled to stare out the window again. "B… Bulma? I can go home when I'm better, can't I?"

She turned from the window, picked up the empty tray. "I have to go feed the boys. Trunks brought Goten home again."

"Bulma?" But he spoke to the closed door. "I… can't go home?" He fell back against the pillows. "I can't go home?"

"What do you want, Kakarot?"

"To train. I need to train. I've been in bed too long."

"Yes, you have." Vegeta proceeded with his own training, only occasionally glancing at the other Saiyan. Something finally penetrated. "Kakarot, I thought you said you needed to train."

"I do." Goku continued with his exercises.

"Then why are you goofing off. Train!" Vegeta lobbed an energy blast at the other. Goku barely managed to deflect it. "You're barely concentrating!" A series of blasts followed, and Goku hit the floor of the GR with a resounding thud. "What is the matter with you? Your wounds healed days ago."

"I can't go home."

"Why not?" Vegeta threw several lightening fast punches, shadow boxing with himself again.

"Chi-Chi doesn't want me there." Goku rose slowly from the floor, one hand pressed to his chest.

"Whose house is it, yours or hers?" Vegeta sniped.

"It's hers. Her father gave it to her when she decided to marry me."

Vegeta turned, shocked. "It's hers? You allow a woman to provide for you?"

Goku blinked twice. "Um, isn't that what Bulma does for you?"

"I am a prince, Kakarot. The people I protect are supposed to take care of my needs. You are a low level soldier! You should be providing for your family, not the other way around."

"Oh." A defeated little whisper of sound, lost in the swishing of Vegeta's movements. "I have to go, Vegeta. I have… stuff to do."

"Whatever."

A failure. He was… a failure. He'd never realized it before, but there could be no doubt that he was. He had never taken any thought to anything but fighting, not really. Fighting and having adventures. His marriage had been an adventure, but had soon palled. Chi-Chi nagged. About everything. But… she'd had the right. He had been failing her all this time, and now he knew it.

"Goku?" A hand touched his shoulder. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"They aren't worth that much."

"I thought you were going to train with Vegeta today?"

"I did."

"It doesn't look like it. You're both usually battered beyond belief when you finish training with each other." Bulma settled beside him on the ground, looping her arm companionably over his shoulder. "Want to talk about it?"

"No." He couldn't help leaning into her, though. He needed that comfort. "Bulma? Can I have a hug?"

Bulma wrapped him in her arms, holding him tightly. "I'm so sorry, Goku. I never thought she meant it."

"I was never very dependable, was I, Bulma?"

"You were."

"I was?"

"I always depended on you to protect me, to beat the bad guy. And you always did. You could always be depended on to give anyone a second chance. You can definitely be depended on to empty out the refrigerator and the pantry. And I expect you will train and keep yourself in shape until the day you die, just in case you need to save the world again."

"But I'm not a dependable husband."

"Oh, Goku…" Bulma shook her head. "Saiyans don't seem to be."

"You mean," he looked up in shock, "Vegeta isn't dependable?"

"Oh, he's dependable, all right. I can depend on him to train the greater majority of any given day, conveniently forget to do his chores, be irritable at most times, constantly hungry, always demanding, and to make me feel like the most special woman in the entire world when he wants to. Saiyans do not make good husbands. You guys are far too self-centered as far as training and fighting are concerned, and not interested enough in taking care of your families. I think training your sons is the only thing either of you have been consistent about where family is concerned. Neither one of you have jobs, you both live off what Chi-Chi and I make, or the occasional tournament wins. Well, you do the tournament wins, anyway. Vegeta doesn't even do that."

"But… he's a prince. He protects you, so you provide what he needs?" Goku couldn't quite make it a statement.

"Vegeta is your prince, not mine, and you've protected me a lot longer than he has. Did I ever have to provide for you?"

Goku thought about it. "You always had the capsule stuff. Doesn't that count?"

"Would you have expected me to give you what I had just because you were there?"

"Well, no. I guess not. I wasn't really used to people, you know."

"And now that you are?"

He blinked. "But… I'm not. Not really. I know you, and Yamcha, and Chi-Chi, and Krillen and 18. I know the Ox King, and Vegeta and Piccolo, and the boys. I know Turtle and Master Roshi and Baba and King Yemma. I know King Kai and Old Kai and a lot of dead guys. I know your parents, and Hercule and Videl and Buu. I know Dende and Puar and Oolong and Mr. Popo, Yajerobe and Master Korin. I'm not used to people."

"But what about all the people you met on our adventures and your training journeys? What about them?"

"I met them. I don't really know them. I don't see them anymore, and only met most of them once. You know that. The rest of you guys I know." He grimaced. "I know Shenlong better than I know most people."

Bulma blinked. "Would you expect them to give you stuff just because you were with them?" she repeated, determined to get him to answer the question.

"But Bulma, most of them did. They gave me food, or shelter, or training. They gave me clothes and sometimes a little money. I've never really not had anyone helping me, except the time between when Grandpa died and I met you. I got everything for myself then." He rubbed at his nose. "I'm not dependable."

She shook him. "Stop saying that!"

"But I'm not, Bulma."

"You are too. So stop saying you aren't!"

"But, Bulma…" His eyes widened in shock as she shut him up in the only other way she could think of. She kissed him aggressively, nipping at his lips if he tried to talk. Finally, he shut up and started kissing her back.

Blood. He was covered in it. Bruised, battered, cut and bleeding. Vegeta staggered from the GR, made his way to the shower. He tipped his head back, allowing the warm water to rinse the blood from his face, hair, and the still sluggishly bleeding cut above his eye. Again, he'd worn himself to nothing, again destroying several of the training bots. However, he hadn't managed to dodge all the shrapnel, and would have a few new scars to show for it.

What was Kakarot's problem? Had he never provided for his little family? Vegeta frowned, leaning against the shower wall. If he were to admit the truth, Kakarot had done more to provide for his family than Vegeta had for his. All he had was his birthright. His home destroyed, he no longer had the riches or prestige that came with it. Still, he was a prince, and he acted it. He kept his mind and body sharp, in the event he needed to protect his small family, or his adopted world. He strove to be the best, though he knew he would always take second place to Kakarot.

Kakarot. It was well and past time the man went home. He had his own family, no matter how badly he provided for them. Vegeta was beginning to become annoyed by the amount of time his wife was spending with his friendly rival. It didn't help that he still couldn't shake the impression that Bulma would trade him for the other Saiyan.

An impression that solidified as he walked out into the garden in search of his wife, only to find her wrapped in Kakarot's arms and obviously the aggressor. He watched numbly as his wife, completely oblivious to his presence, seduced the man. She silenced his objections, and soon the two were intimately entwined.

Vegeta turned, made his way blindly to his room. This he had never expected. Not even knowing that Bulma would always take Kakarot's side, that Kakarot thought Bulma prettier than his own wife. His heart, once cold and uncaring, had thawed. Now, it cracked. His age and his anger worked against him. He slumped to the floor.

I shouldn't have done that. She'll be angry. She'll be so mad… What can I do? What should I do? It shouldn't have happened. I knew better. I did! Why didn't I stop? Vegeta will kill me if Chi-Chi doesn't. How can I ever go home now? The tears tracing down his cheeks were his constant companions these days. He didn't leave his room anymore, pretended to be asleep if anyone came in to check on him. I am truly a failure now. I thought I was after what Vegeta said, but now I know it. I can't even keep my promises anymore. I broke my wedding vows! How can I be anything but a failure?

He probed the area carefully, feeling none of the energies that indicated the members of the house. He slid from the bed, closing himself up in the bathroom only to slump against the shower wall. If I had provided for them, would Chi-Chi have been so angry with me? If I had paid more attention to her instead of to my training, and saving the world? I thought…. No. I didn't think. That was… is… the problem. Chi-Chi yells at me so often for not thinking. I didn't think when Bulma kissed me. I just reacted. Like I always do.

He soaped himself absent-mindedly, though being careful of half-healed skin. I could go back. The worst she can do is kill me. I've been dead before, I suppose I have to die again sometime. At least if she kills me, I'll die at the hand of someone I love.

The thought arrested his hand, and he stared down at the soap for a long moment before continuing his shower. He wanted to die. For the first time in his life, he wanted to die. He wasn't willing to die if that was what was necessary. This was different. He rinsed off, slipped into his clothes. He took a deep breath, and settled two fingers to his forehead.

Goku reappeared at his front door. He stared at it a long moment, then set trembling fingers against it. She had rejected him twice now, three times counting her original offer to trade. Suddenly, the door swung open.

Pain-glazed, drugged eyes opened slowly, took in the surroundings. "Why didn't you let me die?"

"I love you."