He punched at the air, grateful for the therapeutic effect it had on him. The last few weeks had been...well.
Taking a step back he crouched, replaying a old fight in his head, replaying all the moves he used and tweaking them to get them just right. He would not fall again, not now.
Pausing for a split second, he contemplated the thought behind that statement.
Growling, Vegeta kicked at the air behind him, spinning and catching himself when he slid just a bit too far to the right. His muscles burned in protest at the movement, screaming at him to stop.
Having cranked the GR up to the highest he could stand in, he reveled in the pain. This was his own self imposed punishment he concluded, watching as his arms twitched slightly over each new wave of pain.
He should be resting, letting his mind and body recover after the battle that had happened weeks ago.
But that was a sign of forgiveness, and that he thought with a feral snarl, was something he did not deserve.
Kakarot had long since died in that damnable battle with cell. Lucky him he supposed. Vegeta might have killed himself if he had to look into that fool's eyes after it all. After all his boasting, all his hard work, he had gone and very nearly cost everyone's life.
Refusing to dwell on his past mistakes, Vegeta paused for a moment, locking up those thoughts in his head to visit much, much later.
With his ever present scowl, he resumed his training, content he could save himself the mental torture he would put himself through for another time. The physical was enough for right now.
Snapping his head to the direction of the door, he felt the only one on the whole damn planet aside from his son that he tracked constantly.
Bulma.
Not for the same reasons though, his son was out of some twisted protectiveness he'd been feeling lately. Bluma was however out of pure necessity to avoid her.
Lately she'd got it into her head that he was something more than just the father of their joint child. Before Cell she wouldn't even call him a friend, and now... now he didn't quite know where they stood, and it irked him greatly.
He was perfectly fine with the previous arrangement, the one he imposed by leaving as soon as he found out she was pregnant (he was NOT running dammit) and only returning once he had reached his goal. Their reunion wasn't what he expected, he had been prepared to march right up to her and the child and blast them straight off the face of the earth if he found them to be a nuance, but once he found himself standing there...
He had still yet to put a name to the feeling, but the second he laid eyes on her holding the child in the dark of the nursery, believing herself to be alone and hearing her whispering, so quietly that he had to strain to hear her from the other side of the room.
"Daddy is off training Trunks, he'll protect us, don't worry baby...it's going to be alright...shush..."
He was gone the second he smelt her tears, off to the other side of the compound, then the city, then continent. Once he stopped, he was half a world away and still hearing her words ring in his head. Unmoving in the highest altitude he could breath comfortably, he digested the fact that now he knew he couldn't kill them, and he secretly doubted her ever could kill Bulma.
He returned some hours after the sun had risen, and made his presence known to Bulma by waiting in the boy's room for her. He didn't go over to see the child, but waited patiently while she walked past him to retrieve the baby early in the morning, not seeing him until she turned.
She was so surprised she almost dropped him. Almost, if Vegeta hadn't strode over and caught his son immediately, and without a word, began inspecting the child without so much as looking at Bulma. The child looked back at him with wide, intelligent eyes, eyes that held no hate, no distaste for the man holding him. Vegeta idly wondered how long that would last. Once he was satisfied, he handed the child back to Bulma who had been watching with stunned eyes.
"His name?"
"Trunks...I named him Trunks."
"His tail?"
"The... doctors removed it... I'm sorry I couldn't-"
With a wave of his hand, Vegeta turned and stalked out the room, heading towards his old bedroom for a much needed shower.
"He needs to be fed. See to it, Women."
And that was how they had proceeded, up until recently anyway. After Cell, the routine had altered slightly, whether it be the looks she now shot his way or how after every time they talked she bit her lip as he walked away, almost as if she needed to tell him something but couldn't get the words out. Or the way her hands lingered on his when giving or receiving Trunks, or the way she fussed over his wounds, or...he could go on and on. It was then he noticed she had been repressing some form of feeling for him, and try as he might he found that thought far too pleasing then he should have.
But with this revelation came another, one that centered around the fact the he was, Prince Vegeta, and at his core he was nothing but a ruthless killer. One who had destroyed planets on the whims of a tyrant who had massacred his entire race...and he did it with a fucking smile on his face.
Here, on this mudball planet he found something pure, something he had helped create, and he would be dammed if he let himself ruin this ones life. And Bulma... Bulma, for all her downfalls, the most obvious one being that she was human, was everything Vegeta had ever wanted. She had intelligence, beauty, wit... not physical strength, but mentally she could match him blow for blow, and that alone made him crave her more then he felt was healthy. So he would simply be a protector, and a father to his son. Nothing more, nothing less. He planned on training the boy, the only parenting he felt he could do, the boy needs a father, he did. And a mother Trunks needed her...he needed her...
It was for this reason he ignored her completely, this reason he refused to allow himself what he needed. That one night with her had been a blur of passion and pleasure, but also words he never wanted to speak, and emotions he long ago left for dead had come back with a vengeance. She was perfection, and he...
He could destroy her so easily, without meaning too, and not by his hand. He was hated, despised, and feared throughout the galaxy as one of the deadliest and cruel warriors to ever come out of Freeza's army, and yet she let him in. She hadn't known that, he was sure of it. There was no plausible way she would have known that and allowed him in her home, much less her bed.
He was terrified of losing her. Of losing his son.
So he pushed her away, blocked out everything he ever felt about the women with the striking blue hair and matching eyes, locked them down beneath the fear and hate and rage he held in his heart and continued on with his life.
They only spoke about Trunks, and rarely spent time together unless the baby was between them. He wouldn't allow himself to spare a thought to how Bulma felt about it. He had already let her close enough, he couldn't risk her getting closer.
He did not want her to know how badly he craved her, and he might just break if he heard that damn emotion in her voice again, the voice she used talking to Trunks that one night...
No, Vegeta thought has he hardened his gaze at the door, he would not let her in, not again. If he had learned anything from the past few weeks of imposed isolation from her, it was that she felt something for him now, and it was killing him to deny her.
But he had promised to protect them, even from himself.
And she refused to make it easy.
This was not the first time she'd come looking for him over the last few weeks, but it was perhaps, the first time she'd come at nearly three am, armed with nothing but what he could assumed was her fiery determination and the unlock codes for the GR.
He sighed, steeling himself for coming battle and when the door to the GR opened, he stood tall and proud, scowl in place and arms crossed across his chest.
The look she gave him spoke volumes, her eyes like blue flames, embodying her determination and passion.
Internally he cringed, wishing she had not pinned him with those eyes.
How many had he burned alive with that same shade of blue?
Bulma...his son...
They could never know, he would lose them...
He would lose everything...