**Of Two Minds**

By Lilian

Author's Note: I dislike GT. A lot. The 'stache is just the first of many qualms I have with that series, which most of the time I refuse to acknowledge even happened. There are a few things I enjoyed, though (I happen to like SSJ4. I want my very own furry!Vegeta yesplz). I rewatched some of it recently, and this just popped into my head and wouldn't let go.

For those of you who haven't watched/refuse to remember GT: the end of the first arch deals with Baby, a parasitic robotic lifeform who comes to Earth to exact its revenge on the Saiyans for destroying the Tsufuru (original inhabitants of Planet Vegeta). He does this in the most idiotic way possible, by possessing everyone on Earth. And by everyone, I mean everyone, including all of our favorite Saiyans and their significant others. Surprise! Goku saves the day. I was intrigued by the Baby!Vegeta/Bulma dynamic, and how that would work given Baby's complete hatred for everything Saiyan. I also wanted to explore the aftermath of such a possession, particularly on Bulma.

Let me know what you think!

When she closed her eyes, Bulma could still feel it inside her head. A pressure right behind her eyes, like the beating of incessant drums. Bow to me, it used to say, worship me. And damnit, she had! She had done everything that—that thing wanted, going as far as to actively attempt to murder her dearest friend. A vile taste in the back of her throat, rage, violence, the thirst for revenge… they were not HER feelings, except that for a while, they had been hers. His. Baby's. She shook her head. It was difficult to separate her emotions these days, to hold on to Bulma-the-human as opposed to Bulma-the-Tsufuru.

How do you recover from something like that?

She sighed, eyeing the mess of wires, circuitry and bolts that lay splayed across her work desk. She'd thought coming down here tonight would help with her insomnia, but it clearly hadn't. The black cloud of memories had followed her into the basement, ever threatening like a storm.

Since Earth had been restored after Baby's attack with the Namekian dragon balls, she and her small family had returned to their everyday lives but so much had been lost! Months spent in the service of that monster, bending to its will, happily acquiescing to its every insane request. More than that, what ate at her incessantly was not the mind control (for that was one the first time she had encountered such a thing), but the mockery Baby had made of their lives, of their hopes and dreams.

And that was the crux of it all, wasn't it?

During Baby's possession of the entire population of Earth, most people had been allowed to continue their daily lives. What use did Baby have for an enterprising housewife or a successful lawyer? No, he didn't care for them, just wanted them under his control. Others, like her, had been recruited to help in his absurd plan to destroy Son Goku and restore the Tsufuru Empire. And Bulma had done so, happily developing weapons to destroy her oldest, dearest friends. And she had loved it, every minute of it, because it was in the service of her lord. How humbling, she thought, to remember yourself completely submissive to somebody else. Especially for somebody like her, who prided herself in being her own woman, a proud, empowered, brilliant scientist, the closest thing Earth had ever had to a Queen.

You should have been Tsufuru, he'd told her, brushing a strand of teal hair behind her ear, and with you at the helm perhaps my world would not have fallen to the Saiyan invasion.

Bulma shivered, remembering the shock of pure, unadulterated bliss at his compliment. Oh, to have lived through the First Tsufuru Empire, she'd thought then, stark raving mad with devotion to Baby and his plan, to have seen the blazing red sun of planet Plant. Before the Saiyans came, before the world ended… Eyes blazing with fanatic glee she'd told Baby, voice shaking in barely contained triumph: All those filthy, disgusting Saiyans will pay! Their blood for ours, our revenge is here!

The fact that her family were Saiyans had not seemed to make a difference to her. It was a matter of no consequence, that her own children had the same evil eyes she could see in the mirror, that her own husband had been stolen from her by that parasitic life form. They were Tsufuru now, cleansed of their sins by Lord Baby's eggs, reborn just like the Empire would be when they were done. Saiyans were animals, thoughtless and blood-thirsty, and the universe would be a better place once they were all gone.

Bulma closed her eyes, trying to keep the treacherous memories away. But they would not be stopped.

Baby had indeed taken her as his second in command, going as far as to flaunt her in front of her friends. She had been held by him, high up in the air, her husband's muscled arm around her and they had leered down together at the huddled masses of pitiful humans. Together they had designed the empire, technology and weaponry, politics and law. Away from prying eyes, however, things were different. Quite different indeed.

Goten and Gohan, Trunks and Bra would be sent on scouting missions, eliminating rebels that had somehow escaped Baby's possession. Baby had delighted in it, watching Earth's mightiest defenders slaughtering innocents for sport. You are either one of us or you are against us, he'd said, Vegeta's features distorted in a scornful sneer, silver hair standing out against all too tanned skin.

And you, he'd drawled, turning those red-rimmed eyes towards her, you are the nastiest one of them all, aren't you? Bulma could still hear him, like he was standing right next to her, alive and inside her husband's body, mocking her. I only serve to please you, my lord Baby, she'd said, not understanding his sudden turn of mood.

Baby had approached her slowly, long, measured steps that were so different to Vegeta's smooth gait. He'd walked around her, small circles around and around, stalking her like a shark in still waters stalks wounded prey. Oh yes, Bulma dear, you of all people betrayed us the worst.

Conversion to Tsufuru worship complete, the accusation had been like a dagger to her feverish heart, and tears had sprung to her eyes as she vehemently shook her head in denial. No, lord Baby, never! I would die before betraying you!

Bulma's fingernails dug crescent moons into her palms as she fisted her hands. Kami, she could still taste the bitterness of her fear, Baby's sneering smirk burning itself on her brain. Wrong, so very wrong, and yet she could still see it, his mocking gaze as she kept pacing around her. But you have, Bulma, you have. You laid with the Monkey Prince, by your own free will took him to your bed.

Her life, her choices, her children—it suddenly all became twisted and distorted, an insult to their great Lord, a smirch on their wondrous destiny! She had remembered Vegeta's embrace, hard and passionate and sometimes brutal, and it had revolted her. She had seen Trunks for the first time, small and red and screaming, tiny little purple tail wrapping around her wrist, and it had turned her stomach. She had heard Bra, her first word 'ass'ole', and she had blanched.

Whore, Baby had said, using her husband's voice, her husband's face, filthy, disgusting, monkey-loving whore.

Now, she was horrified. Horrified at exactly how NOT horrified she'd been as he spoke. All she had been able to feel was great distress at having failed her lord, her fervent worship of the alien parasite seemingly unending.

Indeed, my dear, not one but two bastards you gave him, heirs to the accursed throne of Vegitasei. Blood of Saiyans, blood of murderers.

No, no! I didn't—it wasn't—

Baby had paused his incessant pacing, slanted black Saiyan eyes layered in Tsufuru red as he leaned in close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheeks.

Blood of monkeys.

"Shut up!"

Her voice was loud, louder than she had intended it to be. But it was repulsive, to still have those thoughts, those memories in her head. Dear Gods, she had believed all of it! Every word out of Baby's mouth had been gospel, and she had repudiated her own fucking family because of it!

She slammed her hands on the table, sending cogs spinning every which way. She had heard it all before, the whispers and gossip about her children and her mysterious alien boy-toy, the media throwing itself into a frenzy when she refused to confirm or deny any of the idiotic rumors. She had never listened to them, and she had never cared. But this, this had been different. When Baby had possessed her, it had been her own voice whispering these things in her ear, his control of her absolute.

And she had honestly, truly, to the very core of her being, believed every single word of it at the time.

Her fingernails scraped the metal surface as her arms literally shook in anger, wishing she could resurrect Baby just to be able to kill it again. Baby had been smart enough to know to keep her close. Her brain was too valuable to discard, and her abilities as a techmaster too useful to ignore. She had begun work on the Blutz wave generator almost right away. However, his hatred for Saiyans had quickly extended to her, once he had possessed Vegeta and had learned of her existence. The vile little thing had actually enjoyed keeping her close, both attracted and disgusted by her, a lethal combination of emotions that he transferred to her with delight, spreading it like an infection.

Angry, she was so fucking angry! She was not one to take abuse lightly, as many of the people in her life had come to realize at one point or another, but this… this was different. This was like a disease, festering in her soul, the memory of her hate for the people she loved the most.

Bulma suddenly felt old, every single one of her fifty-six years weighing heavily on her shoulders.

It didn't even make sense. Baby had been insane, driven by revenge and madness, his plan a completely circuitous paralogism. It had been built to destroy the Saiyans, and yet it had begun re-building the Tsufuru nation by possessing every single remaining Saiyan on Earth. It was a stupid plan and ultimately, useless!

"So everything we went through, it was all for nothing?"

She didn't even know who she was asking. While the omniscient Kaio-sama's of one galaxy or another were probably watching (all perverts, the lot of them), it wasn't as if they'd materialize from thin air to soothe her exposed nerves. Perhaps Dende, although she suspected the gentle Namek would be dealing with his own actions during his time as Baby's slave.

"Talking to yourself again, woman?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice, heart hammering in her chest. Vegeta stood by the lab's door, fresh out of a shower judging from his still damp hair and the towel around his neck. It was past three in the morning, but that was just standard Vegeta operating time. He had never needed much sleep to begin with, and it seemed he required less and less as the years went by.

Startled out of her reveries, she lashed out at him without even thinking: "Goddamit, Vegeta," she barked, "you're gonna give me a heart attack!"

He smirked, head tilting slightly to the left as he appeared to listen to something only he could hear. Apparently satisfied, he shrugged in response. "Your heart sounds just fine to me. You are just enamored with drama as always."

Bulma didn't even bother answering him, the back and forth sniping a habit of theirs they had never quite managed to shake. Not that she had particularly tried, mind you, she very much enjoyed their verbal spats. Had from that first day, when she invited him into her home. Instead, she took to reorganizing the mess she had made of her work bench, hoping he would simply move on and leave her to her dark thoughts.

Of course, that was too much to ask of the Saiyan prince. He was exceedingly observant, and he could be almost precognitive when it came to her. However, he was also not a talker, so when she said nothing, neither did he. He did not leave, either, just leaning there against the door, a silent wall of muscle and sinew that was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

Nerves frayed by her nightmares, Bulma's patience was running thin. "Are you just gonna stand there all night?" she hissed at him, voice uncommonly harsh. She had never been good at emotional crap either, so she reacted the way she knew best: anger.

Luckily, over the years, and particularly after Bra's birth, Vegeta had indeed learned a thing or two. So he didn't rise to the bait, simply raising one eyebrow as if to say 'really? We're really doing this now?' It made Bulma angrier, because when had she become the irrational one in their relationship?

When you were infected by an intergalactic parasite, that's when, helpfully supplied her brain.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. This would get her nowhere. Couldn't he just walk away for once? But she knew better. Vegeta could be like a dog with a bone once he knew he was on to something, picking at it until he had it all figured out. It was what made him such a good fighter in the first place, a remarkable strategist that could see the forest beyond the trees.

"Where are the children?"

She knew she was using diversionary tactics, attempting to distract him with inane talk. Who knew, perhaps if she asked him enough boring questions he'd decide it wasn't worth the effort and leave.

Vegeta did that strange head-tilt again, clearly searching for their children's ki signatures. "The brat is out for the night and Bra is asleep." Bulma couldn't help but smile. Despite having met (and begrudgingly befriended) Trunks not once but twice in his lifetime, Vegeta still referred to their son with that old nickname from time to time. It was no longer an insult, though, but a part of Vegeta's twisted sense of humor. Trunks didn't mind, and Bulma thought it was actually rather sweet, the way Vegeta steadfastly refused to acknowledge he adored the boy beyond all reason.

She busied herself with the screen in front of her, opening up design software and blueprints for her latest invention. "Well, you can go to bed now. I should be up there shortly."

His chuckle echoed across the empty lab, making her look up at him once more. He was shaking his head, the short spikes of his hair waving back and forth. "You were always a damn awful liar, woman." Hackles raised, she narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly not caring anymore. If they were gonna fight, they were gonna duke it out like only the two proudest people in the world could. Anger she could understand, and what better way to shush the dark whispers of her mind than to some good old tongue lashing?

"What do you know, Vegeta? I'm just having a bad day, ok? Go away and leave me alone!"

He looked at her for a long while, lips taut and those obsidian eyes boring into hers. Cold sweat accumulated low on her spine, and she was suddenly afraid, so very afraid that he could see right through her.

"Have the nightmares started yet?"

She paused. Whatever she had been expecting him to say, that had not been it. He couldn't possibly know, could he? She had kept her shame to herself, careful not to let in show in front of anyone. It wasn't something she felt she could share with anyone, much less him! He was so proud of his heritage, the last of the pure-blood Saiyans, a Prince among men, and she loved that about him! She'd made sure both Trunks and Bra understood the importance of their ancestry, so that something of Vegitasei would live on. How could she explain that she loved it, but could now distinctly remember hating it as well?

"What are you talking about? What nightmares? You know I hate it when you get all cryptic on me, Vegeta, and this late at night it's just not—"

He took a step closer to her, further into the halo of the fluorescent overhead lights. They hit his face and just for one second she saw it again, Baby-in-Vegeta's-body, silver hair and red face tattoos, red eyes shining with a zealot's glee. She cried out, hand coming up to ward him off… then Vegeta moved again and the illusion disappeared.

He did not approach her further, allowing her to calm herself down. When she could breathe without heaving again, Vegeta spoke, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "They come when you are sleeping, which means you try not to sleep at all. You bury yourself in your work, attempting to keep the demons at bay. But they always find a way in."

She was speechless, heart still thumping away in her chest. She could only nod slightly, barely a movement at all, as he continued: "You remember his voice, like sibilant whispers in the dark. He always finds you, no matter where you go."

Bulma had to gasp. He was voicing her torment, speaking to her calmly like one would a rabid dog, motionless but for his right hand clenching and unclenching by his thigh. She didn't think he was aware he was doing it. She also suddenly knew that if he still had his tail, it would be thrashing behind him in agitation.

"How?" was all she managed to utter, throat suddenly closed and scratchy, the thundering of her heart like a typhoon in her ears.

Vegeta shrugged. It was not easy for him to talk about these things, she knew, but she could see he was making an effort. Watching his handsome face contort as he struggled to push past his own barriers, his own fears to allay her own, and her heart swelled with love for this man who would deconstruct himself for her like this.

"I know what it is to despise who you are by the will of another."

He had a distant look in his eyes, glaring right over her shoulder and probably decades into the past. She paused, uncertain he had heard him correctly. If there was anything that rivaled this man's devotion to his family, was perhaps his pride as a Saiyan Prince. How could he—It hit Bulma suddenly, arising from the depths of her sleep-deprived brain like a golden bullet.

"Frieza."

The word escaped her lips before she could stop it and to his credit, he did not flinch. He simply nodded, still lost in his memories of a time before they met, when a tyrannical, deranged space lord had him in its claws.

"It is—unsettling."

Vegeta had always been the king of understatement, but this did force a dry chuckle from her. "I'll say," she muttered, brushing a hand across her face. It was a strange tableau, these two people, standing in opposite corners of the empty lab, sharing intimate confessions they would probably never discuss again.

"How did you—what do I do to make it stop?"

This time it was him that chuckled, laconic and exactly like she expected him to after all these years. "If you figure that out, be sure to share it with me."

He shook himself, almost like a cat, forcing those memories down into the deep, dark recesses of his mind. "While they never quite leave you," he continued, "their voices do soften with time."

Hearing him say that did soothe her frayed nerves some. She could never imagine what he had gone through (even after all these years, she would wake to find him perched on their balcony railing, eyes dark and closed, and she now knew better than to disturb him), but he had never, not once, lied to her.

She managed a smile, and watched some of the shadows lift from his gaze as she did so.

"Besides," he said, raising an eyebrow at the Blutz wave generator designs up on her massive computer screens, "some good things did come out of this whole incident, no?" Bulma eyed the blueprints slowly rotating in virtual space, and the seed of an idea began forming in her mind. There was so much information Baby had downloaded into her servers, decades of Tsufuru research on Saiyan physiology and biomanipulation…

She was already turning towards her keyboard, mind spinning a thousand miles a minute, when his hand grabbed hers. The searing heat of his body – something Baby had never been able to emulate – immediately ignited a response in her, and she only half struggled when he began pulling her out the door. "Vegeta, I wanna get this down before I forget it—"

"Woman, you already spend too much time down here. I am done with my training and if your failing hearing is still working, I just said the brats are out of the way for tonight."

You didn't have to be a genius to get his meaning.

The end.

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