PROLOGUE: Vegeta is my muse by far throughout the Dragon Ball series because of how the significance of his life is redefined. This story doesn't to stick to hard timelines, but it is set about 25 years after Trunks was born. It's my first time writing. I welcome your reviews, and thank you for reading!

Trunks had long missed having weekend brunch at his parents' house. Often on a whim, his mother Bulma would invite friends over to enjoy her and his father Vegeta's cooking. The arrangement was non-negotiable once she decided on it, which irritated her husband to no end. Prince Vegeta was a disciplined planner by way of his military training. The possibility of not having enough to serve their visitors suitably, and all at once, aggravated his already ill-tempered fastidiousness.

Trunks couldn't blame his father, though. Vegeta learned to cook human food from scratch, a notable change for the former mercenary and haughty aristocrat. The downside was he often shouldered the burden of retrieving supplies for however long the party lasted. Being an introvert, he preferred having a convenient exit, especially when everyone else guzzled rounds of cocktails. Bulma always expected the drunkest visitors - usually Krillin and Oolong - to stay overnight. Vegeta wouldn't be seen again until they left.

Trunks stared out the window, hoping this scene would unfold exactly as his mind arranged it. If he had his way, the house would soon be full of food and laughter. Having his sister Bulla there would be even better, but she was on another planet for a year of schooling.

Bulma flung the dining room door open and narrowed her eyes at the sight of him. Knowing he would be tackled, Trunks bent over so she could grab the top of his head and kiss it. It had been their ritual since he was a boy.

"Whatcha' thinking about, handsome?"

Trunks chuckled. This was a trick question. Bulma, in all her morning glory, was wearing a monogrammed lavender robe and slippers - which matched her hair, of course. It was obvious she was fishing for a complement. He thought the ensemble didn't look bad on her, but it wasn't that flattering either. She also looked more tired than usual. Better to avoid the subject altogether.

"Hey, mom. Nothing special. It's just been a while."

Bulma placed her hand on his cheek. "It has been a while. Although you're lying to me, I'm still glad you came. You sneaked in last night."

"Yeah, I trained in the gravity room and slept in the cabin," he said. "I'm kind of surprised your husband didn't come and spar with me. He usually senses my presence immediately."

"Oh, I'm sure 'The Prince of All Saiyans' knew you were around, Trunks. He felt no rush to inform me, obviously."

Trunks looked down and returned to the window. "So what's the deal? Vegeta rarely shuns a chance to beat the hell out of me when I offer it up to him."

"For heaven's sake, son. Can we please not discuss training? I have spent a quarter of my adulthood living out your father's existentialist struggles."

"And we all have to live with our choices. Don't we, mother?"

Anticipating her wrath, Trunks raised a finger to suspend the shoe she hurled at him in midair. Then, with his back still turned, he spun it over her head like a basketball.

"Come on, mom. That was a lousy attempt at a sucker punch. You're losing your touch."

Bulma rolled her eyes. "That's no way to speak to your mother, and quit rubbing it in that I can't do that. You're worse than Vegeta!"

###

Almost an hour passed since the two sat down for coffee. Bulma wasn't up for cooking, so Trunks decided to start a meal - with some assistance from the house robots - and coax her into having friends over later. Then, perhaps, he could use his father's pride against him to get more help.

Vegeta would rather eat rocks than allow me to upstage his cooking, he thought. Yet, he welcomed their reunion. Their estrangement had been hard on him. Oddly, he couldn't feel the full weight of his father's presence in the house, but he shrugged it off. Vegeta was masterful at being conspicuously absent when he didn't want to be disturbed.

That said, unlike Vegeta, Trunks saw no reason to obsessively monitor everyone's ki within a 10,000-mile radius, including family, at least not before breakfast. If the threat were significant enough, he felt assured that he would know.

The echoing of Bulma and Trunks' voices had roused Vegeta from his slumber. He sat quietly in his bed holding a small picture of Bulma and himself. After he and Goku defeated Majin Buu, he never left home without it, even when he trained. She didn't know, and neither did anyone else. Over the years, he fantasized that her world would remain peaceful as long he carried it. It had been ages since he and the other Z-fighters faced mortal danger. Unlike when he first arrived on Earth, he didn't long for another lethal battle without carefully considering the outcomes.

This wasn't one of his better days physically. His chest ached from coughing, and his arms and legs felt like lead. He had no intention of staying in bed, though, at least for a while. When he wanted something badly, he had no qualms about ignoring how his body felt to get it.

"My stupidity and pride motivate me," he muttered to himself, and he needed to see his son.

He also couldn't resist hearing what Bulma was up to either. She had never been a quiet person, but her laughter from the kitchen was the closest she had ever come to cackling. If any of her jokes were about him, the fight was on. No one in their family could trash talk better than he. Still, he was pleased that she was enjoying herself instead of worrying about him. Trunks was a different matter. Even in his weakened condition, Vegeta sensed his son's melancholy from the time he arrived. He expected it. They hadn't spoken directly in a year, and the reasons were complex. A lot could be said between them, but he wondered whether some things should be said.

Bulma was waiting for him to take the lead, he figured. Hearing their chatter, he knew she hadn't told Trunks about his illness and their disagreements over it. That would come soon enough. He leaned on the wall and began to cough as he approached the kitchen. Suppressing his energy had begun to take its toll.

Bulma bit her bottom lip and faced the door.

"Trunks, hand me that glass next to you. Your father's coming in."

As he entered, she took Vegeta's arm and rubbed his back. Her response soothed him, but he waved her off.

"Just give me a minute, Bulma. Do not worry. I will be fine."

"Quiet, Vegeta. Drink this. I set it aside for you."

Confused, Trunks stared at them. "Mom, what's going on?"

After a few minutes, the couple moved in opposite directions to collect themselves. Relieved by Vegeta's recovery, Bulma caressed his chin.

"You really need a shave," she whispered in his ear. "Well, maybe not. I forgot how sexy your grubbiness can be sometimes."

"Hn." Vegeta crossed his arms and turned his head. "I see nothing humorous in your comments about my appearance."

"You may not, but I sure do. That's what you get for eavesdropping. You really should be in bed, though. If you're a good Saiyan prince, maybe I'll come take care of you, if you know what I mean."

"Ugh." Trunks shut his eyes. "Can you please not go there, and would one of you tell me what's going on?"

Vegeta breathed heavily as Bulma locked her arms around his waist and kissed his forehead. "You can be so vulgar, woman."

"I learned from the best, sweet cheeks," she said with a bright smile. "You know you love it."

Vegeta's calmness surprised Trunks. His parents were fiercely devoted to one another - and were still hot for each other, no doubt - but his father often reacted self consciously when Bulma carried on like this, even in front their children.

"And just what are you staring at, boy?"

And so it begins. His father's attempts to open conversation almost always caused tension. The Prince liked it that way because people usually got to the point faster. His greetings had become more entertaining over the years, too. They were running joke among their family and friends.

Bulma glanced at her watch and sat down. It had been days since Vegeta felt well enough to be pain in the ass. He was more pleased to see Trunks than she expected, and that pleased her.

"Well?" Vegeta said. "Have you lost your ability to speak?"

Trunks shook his head and sighed. "Well, hello to you too, sunshine. I apologize for staring. I'm just concerned. You don't sound so good."

Vegeta had also lost weight, but Trunks knew better than to say it. Their family was a vain bunch: No one tolerated repeated assaults on their appearance without eventually seeking revenge.

"He has bronchitis, son," Bulma said. "Dr. Atkins is treating him."

"That doesn't make sense, mom. He's never been sick a day in his life. I thought Saiyan immune systems had evolved enough to prevent illnesses like that. Isn't that what grandpa and Dr. Atkins determined years ago?"

Vegeta tapped on Bulma's shoulder to sit next to her. "Trunks, I am not one of your lab rats. I get enough of that from your mother."

Bulma frowned at him. "We know full-blooded Saiyans' immune systems are incredibly tough, but they aren't perfect. Remember when I told you about Goku contracting that heart virus when the androids arrived, when you were a baby? It was a miracle that he lived."

"Right, Bulma, a 'miracle' indeed," Vegeta said. "From what I recall, Kakarot did have some help."

"Give it a rest," she said. "You know what I mean."

As usual, her husband's sarcasm amused and annoyed her, but the predictability of their bickering felt comforting. Bulma never to read ki, but she felt Vegeta's emotions as if she lived inside of him. Some feelings he could never verbalize even if he tried, but she always knew when he was reconciling with parts of himself. Even as he joked, his weariness was obvious. It troubled her.

Bulma rubbed the back of Vegeta's neck and smiled at him. "Honey, why don't you return to the room? You've been up for a while. It sounds like medicine in the water helped, but you should probably take some more of it now. Trunks will bring food later. Try to eat more this time."

Vegeta bowed his head and stood. "As you wish."

Uh oh, Trunks thought. I know that look. He's going in for the kill.

"Woman, before I leave, you should know I am very disappointed with your use of seduction to monitor my vital signs," Vegeta said. "I know what that watch of yours does. Have you no honor? You could have just asked me."

Bulma removed the timepiece and twirled it on her finger. "Of course I have 'honor,' you arrogant bastard, but you should know by now that I've never had any shame. Now get out of here."

"You speak the truth, princess. All things considered, perhaps you should apply more of that shamelessness during sex. I have grown bored playing 'doctor' with you."

"And you call me vulgar? Get out, Vegeta!"

Given the circumstances, Trunks found his parents' behavior baffling. It was the most love struck - and lewd - they had ever been in his presence. The two even managed to grab each other's behinds before leaving the kitchen together.

After about an hour, Bulma returned to the kitchen in jeans and a T-shirt. She closed her eyes and gripped the side of the kitchen table.

Trunks put his arm around her shoulder. "You really are worried."

He immediately felt stupid for stating the obvious - and for sounding like he didn't share her concern. Bulma straightened herself and smiled.

"Trunks, would you pour fresh coffee into a thermos, please? He's sleeping now. I'm sorry I took so long, but I wanted to watch him until the medicine kicked in fully. Now, let's take a walk outside."

###

Bulma's cat, Flash, pawed at her ankles while she and Trunks stretched out in a field behind her estate. She wanted a cigarette badly, but it had been years since she smoked. She stopped after Vegeta stormed into her lab one day and said they wouldn't have sex for however long it took until she quit. That choice was easy. He gave her the cat after she got through the first year without lighting up. Considering how much he hated cats, she appreciated his acknowledgement of her sacrifice.

"How long has he been like this?" Trunks said. "You're sure it's bronchitis?"

"It's chronic bronchitis, and we don't know what caused it," she said. "You know he never tolerated my smoking around him. I noticed he was coming home more winded after training off and on this year, but I didn't think much of it at first. Then, within the last few months, everything seemed to hit all at once. He was having these bad coughing fits in the morning, so the doctor had to step in. This just isn't a normal progression for this condition.

"I mean, he's pushed so himself hard for so long, Trunks. Unlike when we were younger, I felt he had a better sense of his limits. Of course, he's never had many limits, but I haven't seen him and Goku fight together for a while either. He did pull back from helping Krillin train students."

Trunks wondered if other friends noticed something long before this. Someone had to. Maybe Goku knew, but he remembered that his mother's best friend - and Vegeta's longtime rival - was visiting another planet.

"I'm surprised that Krillin didn't find that strange, mom. Did you notice how he's walking too? He's unstable."

"And then there's weight loss," she said. "I haven't observed the doctor's examinations, as usual."

"I still don't understand why you made that deal with him. You never told me why."

Trunks' question annoyed Bulma. "It's not for you to understand, but let me help you anyway. Would you want me watching the doctor examine your balls at your age?"

She had a point, but his father was right about her brazeness. They all had their moments, but she absolutely had no verbal filter anymore. He felt somewhat embarrassed for being so prudish.

"I was never thrilled with the arrangement," Bulma continued, "but Vegeta and the doctor have never hidden stuff from me. Anyway, they both said I need more rest, so that's why he's sleeping in the guest room. I'm not sure how well that's going. He's using oxygen at night now. I just can't sleep until I know he can."

Trunks sat up and looked at her. "My god. Why did you wait so long to tell me?"

"Your father said you needed to return here on your own free will - not because of this - and that he expected you would show up sooner rather than later. I couldn't take it anymore, so that's why I asked you to visit. I wasn't sure if you sensed anything was wrong. It's obvious to me now how much you both missed each other."

Trunks nodded. "Yeah, I suppose we have. So what's his course of treatment?"

"Well, an immunodeficiency or autoimmune disorder could've triggered the bronchial inflammation," Bulma said. "Understandably, the doctor doesn't want to prescribe antibiotics to prevent a secondary infection until your father agrees to further observation in a clinical setting. Vegeta said he's had enough exams and that he wanted the least invasive treatments first - but he's so worn out, Trunks. I just don't understand. He knows damn well this condition won't suddenly clear up. Dr. Atkins said he could develop pneumonia at any time, depending on how his immunity has been affected."

"Mom, is there anything else you can take from grandpa's and Dr. Atkins' research, or maybe from somewhere else?"

"Honey, it's been almost 30 years. They did a lot to reconstruct Vegeta's medical history after he settled here. Dr. Atkins, especially, has worked hard to manage the data from the space pod your father traveled here in, and from Vegeta and Goku's genetic profiles. But Dr. Gero probably had the most advanced research on them - while he was creating the androids to kill us all - but whatever. That asshole can rot in hell."

Bulma turned on her side and picked at the grass blades. She wasn't bitter about that part of her past. Her father once called it her and Vegeta's "maturation era." Before then, she was "just" the gifted scientist and spoiled brat from a wealthy family. The arrival of the Saiyan Prince and, later, the androids on Earth ushered in unparalleled dangers and disappointments. She always had a fighter's spirit, but the struggles she faced back then strengthened her sense of self.

Her pregnancy with Trunks was an act of rebellion, too. He gave her hope despite Vegeta's hardened refusal to commit at the time. From then she was determined to live vibrantly until the day she died. Every day with her family and friends was a gift. After the fighters' near-fatal battle with Cell, when Trunks was a toddler, Vegeta's choice to remain in her life was a tremendous exercise in patience. She wanted him there, but she didn't allow him to stay out of some misdirected sense of desperation.

"Son, I still worry that you and your sister may develop a health problem you're ill-equipped to handle later on, especially now with your father and all."

Trunks picked up the cat and handed it to her. "Well, we both know the human side has more than its fair share of faults over the Saiyan side. It's not like Bulla and I didn't get colds when we were kids - and the flu, and chicken pox, and…"

"And would you stop being a smart ass, please?"

"OK, OK. I'm sorry, mom. Let me talk with Vegeta some more about all of this."

"Actually, I need you to help me sedate your father and move him to the hospital."

Trunks couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Have you lost your mind? He will be pissed."

"Look, Trunks, I don't give a shit about his pride right now. Effective today, I'm on leave as Capsule Corporation CEO to focus on him. I really need your support, honey. Please."

"I'm not sure this is the best plan, but fine. Vegeta will likely be too focused on irritating me to notice what I'm doing anyway."

Bulma laughed. "Maybe, but you should know by now to never underestimate the power of a true Super Saiyan. Be ready."

"I hate to say it, mom, but I'm astonished you haven't had some shouting matches over this. How could you joke like that in the kitchen just now?"

"Darling, your father and I have seen the best and the absolute worst of each other. Some disagreements may never resolve in a marriage, but you need humor to get through them - to remind you why you love that person. Vegeta didn't come to the idea of 'family' easily, Trunks. He's loyal to our relationship because I always understood that, and I kept my self-respect. I never told you this, but we considered separating after his battle with Majin Buu, but there was just no way. We wanted to protect you, and I think it would have broken something deep inside of him. And, well, we loved each other."

Bulma considered how much their children didn't know about Vegeta's past. Some parts were too painful and embarrassing for him to share. It was all for the best, she believed. It was his story to tell.

"Mom, what is it? You all right?"

"Yup, I'm just admiring the tulips over here. I planted them before your grandma Panchy died. I miss her."

Trunks squeezed her hand. "Yeah, I miss her too."

"Let me change the subject for a minute." Bulma wiped her eyes and faced him. "Your aunt and uncle are moving to Earth. They should be arriving soon. I wanted to surprise you."

"Really? You got them to move?"

"Nope. Vegeta asked Tarble and Gure more than a year ago to consider it. I was shocked - and they were thrilled. I'm glad they're coming, though. They're so calming to be around."

Trunks recalled the first time he met his uncle when he was a boy. A foot shorter than his older brother, Tarble was remarkably humble and deferential, especially for a Saiyan. No one knew, not even Bulma, that the Prince had a sibling until the younger man arrived on Earth seeking help.

"Do they know how he's doing?" he said.

"We've spoken recently," Bulma said. "Tarble didn't dwell long on Vegeta's condition. He asked me to take better care of myself."

###

As he lay in bed, Vegeta recalled the times he emerged stronger and wiser from his numerous battles. His conceit often led to some humiliating failures, but he worked hard to redeem himself over the years. He never stopped working hard to be the best - he and Goku.

Many indignities came along with being sick, which depressed him somewhat, but he didn't resent the experience. It had been a long time coming. He had managed to hide his physical decline for some time, but now he needed to conserve his strength. His spirits improved once he saw Trunks peeking through the door. The smell of the food alone was enough to wake him, even if he couldn't enjoy it completely.

Knowing that his father probably wouldn't eat that much, Trunks didn't bring a full platter fit for the typical Saiyan appetite. Considering what he planned to do, he also prayed for strength to mask his unease.

Vegeta raised himself on the bed. "It is rather pointless to hover out there like a thief, you think?"

"All right, I'm coming in," Trunks said. "I thought you were sleeping. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Am I safe to assume Bulma covered every last detail about my condition during your outing?"

"Of course. She told me everything, father."

Vegeta smirked at him. "You honor me with your modesty, son, but why do you not call me 'Vegeta' in my presence, as you do with your mother?"

Trunks was amused by Vegeta's glee over his discovery. Bulma was right. His father had missed him more than he thought.

"You just can't resist the wisecracks, can you? Look, here's some food if you're up for eating."

Vegeta's heart felt heavy as he looked over the spread. Trunks had prepared some of his favorite dishes.

"This looks very good," he said. "Have some with me."

"Uh, are you sure?"

"Take the opportunity while you can, boy. You know I am not fond of sharing my meals, not even with your mother."

After grabbing multiple plates of pork cutlets, ramen, and fruit from the food cart, Trunks placed a smaller tray on the bed. Vegeta fought the urge to laugh out loud as his son gorged himself. He was amazed that Trunks had waited so long to eat. If the situation were reversed, he wouldn't have.

After a while, he cleared his throat. "I believe you have questions for me, son."

Trunks paused and glanced at oxygen device next to the bed. "You aren't well."

"I am fine right now," Vegeta said. "Ask your questions."

Trunks sat down on the floor. "What's all this about? Why are you resisting help? I know you have your 'pride' issues, but how can you not see that you're being selfish? Mom may put on a good show, but she's really hurt over this."

"I am no stranger to selfishness, son, but in this case I am not resisting anything. There is a difference."

Trunks pursed his lips to stay calm. Was his father mocking him?

"Just what the hell does that mean? We haven't seen each other in ages, and this is what I get from you? A deflection?"

Vegeta surveyed him. "You are more than entitled to your anger, but the source of it has less to do with your concern for your mother. I do not make things easy for anyone. Never have. Perhaps it is time, though, for you to stop allowing what you think and feel about me to run your life."

"Oh, that's rich," Trunks said softly. "You really are a piece of work. I have spent my life trying to meet your expectations. Remember the first time you said you were proud of me, the first time you hugged me?"

Vegeta felt the muscles in his face tighten. He vowed to be patient, but this question shamed him.

"Of course I remember, Trunks. You were eight years old. It was before I left you to fight Majin Buu. I was confronting certain death. I meant what I said to you, as I had never said it. I had not realized how foolish and incomplete I was as a man until that moment."

"Well, as I got older, I felt like you shut off part of yourself to me. Not so much to mom or Bulla - just me. What did I do wrong? We've had good times, but you have no idea how painful it's been to have you look past me - rather than at me - as a person, especially when we disagreed."

"I am looking at you now, Trunks. Now look at me."

"Go on."

"Son, I have accepted my flaws and tried to work on them the best I could. I hope that one day you will make peace with my mistakes as a father. You did nothing wrong, and my emotional burdens are not yours to shoulder. They will not become your legacy unless you allow it."

Trunks raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. "The truth is, while I know you love me, you wanted a son more like the Trunks from the other timeline. How could you not? He fought Frieza and the androids. He risked everything to protect everyone."

"That has never been the case," Vegeta said. "The young man who fought with me showed insight and caring in ways I could not back then. It affected me deeply, and you grew up to be just like him, thankfully.

"Memories of my past overwhelmed me when you became a teenager. So perhaps I did 'shut off' at times, but I feared falling into another depression... a self-destructive one. I could not risk everything Bulma and I have fought hard to preserve - not ever. Beyond that, you needed a strong teacher, you were my son, and I had no intention of letting anyone else replace me, especially after Piccolo and Kakarot trained you in my absence. Then your mother and I had Bulla. She needed me too.

"I never intended to hurt you, but I did, and for that I am so very sorry. I expected a lot from you because I knew the innate depths of your strength, intelligence, and, most of all, your decency. I still expect a lot - I am still your father, after all - but my pride has little to do with it."

Trunks looked down. "Papa, I…"

"Do me a favor and eat the rest of this." Vegeta pushed the tray toward him. "It would be disgraceful to waste such a fine meal. We have answered our questions honestly, yes?"

"I guess so, but not entirely," Trunks said. "You know, mom asked me to drug your food, but I chose not to. I prefer that you just go to the hospital so she won't talk crazy anymore."

"Hn. Bulma's scheming does not surprise me. What nerve she has, having you do her dirty work."

"Well, yeah, but you're deliberately missing the point. Here, have some more water. Use the straw this time."

"Use the straw? I will do no such thing. I am not an invalid yet. Just give me the glass and call your mother in here. I need to speak with you both."

"She's on lockdown in her laboratory right now," Trunks said.

Vegeta blinked and shook his head. He started to feel dizzy and cold, but he didn't want to worry Trunks. There was more to discuss. The tightness in his chest set off another round of coughing despite his best effort to stop it.

"Let her... work then. She is soothing her anxiety, I suppose. I should probably rest more anyway until… before… we speak."

Trunks moved in closer as Vegeta became glassy-eyed and began to wheeze and cough harder.

"What is it?" Do you need more water?"

"No… son. No more water. I am feeling cold. It will pass. Would you turn on... no, I mean, hand me that pillow?"

"Sure." Trunks knew he needed to work fast before Vegeta's breathing worsened. "Rise up some for me. I think you're coming down with a fever. You're shaking."

As he leaned forward, Vegeta felt a jab in his left shoulder. He reached up to stop it, but the tranquilizer Trunks injected worked faster. His chest pain vanished, and he began to feel weightless and detached from his body. His consciousness embraced its relief from reality.

After a few minutes, Trunks bent down and attached an oxygen cannula to his father's face.

"Do you recognize me, papa?"

"You… look like my son."

"That's because I am your son. Now lie your arm down for me."

"Yes, of course. You are… my boy. I am so very tired."

Trunks placed his hand on Vegeta's wrist and sat on the bed. "I know you're tired, papa, but you're going to be fine."

###

Bulma felt guilty about her deception, but she believed it was more important for Trunks and Vegeta to settle their differences. After that, maybe her husband would do what she wanted. His pride would recover. The end justifies the means. She continued working while Trunks delivered his results onscreen from Vegeta's room.

"How is your father?"

"He's sedated and receiving oxygen," Trunks said flatly. "He's also murmuring a bit, but no fighting or any crazy hallucinations. Heart rate is up, which is probably more from the ketamine I gave him, and he has a fever. Chills began after we ate, but he didn't eat that much. Is the transport ready?"

"It is. Thank you, honey. I'll take it from here. Meet me at hospital later. I know this wasn't easy. How are you?"

"I'm fine, mom - really."

"We're still doing the right thing, Trunks."

He closed his eyes. "Right, yes."