Summary: Gohan's mind and identity move between poles. Separately, Trunks and Tights are bracing themselves for Vegeta's response.

By far, Piccolo and Vegeta were now evenly matched in their abilities to look straight through people. It was a badge of honor and, secretly, they bonded over it. They were not close and would likely never be, but they understood each other both as brilliant fighters and as men. Both had moved beyond their lesser, more horrific selves because love found them on a world that wasn't their own. Correction: Love stomped the crap out of them until they submitted kicking and screaming. Love for Gohan had brought the dignified Namekian there, and his manner was stoic and calm as usual. His mind was anything but.

"I suppose you have a place in mind for our conversation?"

"You're a smart man, Gohan. I'll give you one guess."

"Piccolo, really? You want to fly to Break Wasteland to spar? I do work for a living, you know. It is rather late."

"For a living, huh?" He snorted. "And what kind of living is that? Cut the bullshit. Your father-in-law is wealthy and has made a loving home for you. You can dictate your own schedule, and you want for nothing – at least materially – but you are deeply unhappy. This is more than just losing Videl. Put on the clothes."

Angered, Gohan threw the fighter's garments back. "As I said, I don't need another lecture. Just because you remember my old training ground fondly doesn't mean I do these days."

Piccolo flew in front to block Gohan's aerial exit. "I feel it, you know."

"Feel what?"

"The darkness inside of you. Tell me about it."

Gohan's eyes went cold. "There is no darkness. I see the world as it is, like you. Isn't that what you wanted for me?"

"As my student, I wanted you to harness your physical and mental strength, which remain vast, as well as your intelligence. All are deadly weapons that can corrupt their possessors - but you know that already. Besides me, the only other fighter in our group who fully understands the significance is Vegeta because he has lived it, and you now have antagonized him."

If only he knew, Gohan thought. He almost laughed from the irony. He was trying to harness Vegeta's substantial reservoir of weaponry to create a better way of life for everyone, he believed. His intentions weren't evil or dark, and he certainly wasn't trying to make the prince evil.

"Gohan, in my eyes you are a son. Make things right with your family – and with Vegeta."

"Vegeta is his own man. I can't stop him from being who he is, and I will not change course with Bulma unless she asks directly. Right now she cannot, and I am keeping my promise. How are my actions different from respecting a severely ill person's wish to die rather than seeking more treatment?"

Piccolo sighed. "You are not listening. For all of his good works, not one day have I believed that Vegeta could not relapse. Not one. Goku told me about the bloodthirsty look he gave you at the hospital. You risked your well-being by assisting Bulma. Her mate is alive today because the Kais expected him to serve a higher purpose, which he has. I want that to continue, and I am here for the both of you. Think about what I'm saying. For now, however, honor your teacher by sparring with me."

Gohan waved him off. "For what? So you can use your empathic abilities to study my inner 'darkness'? Fine. I'll give you what you want so you'll l leave me alone." He stopped flying midair and stripped naked. Holding all of his student's possessions, Piccolo smirked and flew behind him to the Wasteland.

The moon and stars were the only lights in the otherwise pitch-black environment when they arrived. Piccolo, who saw well in the dark, wondered if his protégé had retained that ability too. He scolded himself for the silly concern. Gohan was still half Saiyan. That trait was likely intact and, later, they would probably generate enough light during their fight anyway.

They bowed. Both stepped one foot forward into ready stance, lifting their arms with their fists closed.

"Are you prepared, Son Gohan?!" Master and student locked fists, laughing from the challenge. Within three minutes Piccolo lay on the ground, paralyzed and unconscious from being drugged. Gohan breathed achingly while closing the Namekian's gaping mouth.

The voice of Kaleb, his alter ego, praised his effort, while Gohan sobbed into his hands. "I am not a monster, teacher! I am not! I could never kill you. I will bring you back. I will make you understand. Vegeta and I need you by our side."

His eyes focused on the rocky terrain. Dr. Gero's old lab, where he worked sometimes, was nearby. He would store Piccolo's body in a hyperbaric tank there. No one would miss the Namekian for a while because of his reclusive ways, and Gohan knew he could lie to Goku about what happened. The sudden drop in their ki happened simultaneously after the fight began, so he could say they agreed to quit instead if anyone sensed the change that night. It was unlikely, but he couldn't afford making more mistakes.

Then, calmness washed over him again. Kaleb's image reappeared looking satisfied and a bit smug.

"Well done, Doctor Son."

"I suppose it was. I should not have lost my composure like that. I meant what I said, though."

"I know you did."

"Shall we go now?"

Carrying Piccolo's body to the lab felt much easier afterward. Thinking as Kaleb now, Gohan then reflected on Bulma's condition. He had finally found someone to do his bidding among her the arsenal of protectors at the hospital. He felt like a spy who had convinced an angry employee to steal classified files from work. This turncoat got "rolled" expertly without much effort. The promise of wealth wasn't the sole motivator for betrayal.

Once the heiress awakened, which he knew she would, there would definitely be no turning back. Bulma's thinking would be fully aligned with his. The thought aroused him. She and Vegeta would rule together, but he would have her – at least once. He licked his lips imagining how he would kiss every inch of her body. Arrogantly, he felt assured that she wouldn't reject him.

"How are things?"

It was 1 a.m., and Trunks sat smoking on the balcony in his bedroom. His father, in particular, was furious when he learned of his habit a year earlier. Vegeta stopped offering to spar for fun after that. Although Trunks felt hurt, he couldn't blame him for reacting that way.

"If you mean is he sleeping now, Tights, then yes. I don't know for how long."

"Are you coming? It would be nice if she sees you first after waking up."

"Don't sweet talk me. The person who needs to see mom first is my father. You know that."

"And you know that each step in Bulma's recovery may be an emotional fault line for Vegeta. Honey, you and I must rely on each other. We've done well so far."

Trunks stared at the cigarette's glowing tip. Counting tiny smoke rivulets had become a form of brooding. "I have watched his behavior lately. He is still upset, as we all are, but he's not two steps away from torching West City to ashes. My little brother is here now. If anything, papa seems more hopeful."

Smiling, Tights touched her sleeping nephew's incubator. "Are you any closer to having a name?"

"There will be no naming ceremony until mom is better – and good lord, if there's any subject you should avoid discussing yet with my father, that one ranks high on my list."

"See what I mean, Trunks? We have to walk on eggshells about everything with him. You know my personality. This doesn't come naturally for me, but Bulma's situation is new territory for my relationship with Vegeta, and not until recently had I understood just how deeply he loves her."

Trunks rubbed his eyes and stood. "I'll be there in an hour or less – and sometimes with papa you just have to confront him. I don't walk on eggshells, usually. It would drive me nuts. I decide how I want to deal with him and prepare for the consequences – good or bad. But I also try to understand where he's coming from, no matter how angry. I'm telling you not to ask about naming my brother because, if I were married, I would want my wife there too. You're making some decisions harder than what they should be."

"You are such a great young man. I wish we could clone you."

Trunks laughed. "Bye now."

He was fully dressed within two minutes – and annoyed that he left his Capsule Corporation jacket the family room. He and Bulma often wore their matching outfits when he drove Vegeta's sports car in the mountains. They discussed life and laughed during these intimate moments. Now, wearing the jacket had become a kind of pseudo talisman to ward-off evil, so leaving it at home was non-negotiable.

"You're awake."

Vegeta had been pressing tiny puzzle pieces into a giant replica of Earth's galaxy, the Milky Way, when Trunks came for his jacket. Everyone worked on the project whenever they wanted, much like the open chess board in the living room. Chess pieces would move around when people were in the house - family or not - but no one ever sat down for a formal game. Those were the rules. The players were anonymous. No one ever knew who got checkmate - or, eventually, won.

"You act like my insomnia is a rare occurrence, Trunks - and I know you felt my presence before entering. Where are you going? And please don't say something stupid. You're not on campus, so I get to ask now that you're living here again."

"To see mom and the baby."

Vegeta looked up. "Is something wrong?"

"No big changes. I need to see them, though, because I want to. I spoke with Tights, and she's says it's fine. You, however, should consider taking those sleeping pills prescribed for you. You're worn out."

"Go."

"Papa, please…"

Vegeta grabbed another handful of puzzle pieces. "I said go. Do not enter Bulma's room reeking of those disgusting cigarettes. It's bad enough that Tights relies on them to relieve her anxiety."

"I won't."

"I want you to quit. You are nearing addiction. I can tell."

Trunks took two of his puzzle pieces and found their spots. "I know you do, and I'm leaving now." They had reached détente in this battle. Separately, each hoped the other would listen at some point.

Doctors had been lowering the coma-inducing drugs from Bulma's system for a few days since the baby's delivery. Her brain activity had stabilized, and she hadn't had further seizures. Tights had given permission to see if her sister could breathe without the respirator, which she could, to everyone's delight. In those late hours before speaking with Trunks, she had decided that the last drug round would end, but she had to be cautious. Doing it quickly would cause an energy spike in Bulma's body that Vegeta would likely sense - and she didn't want him dashing over yet.

She reasoned that her sister could say anything after fully emerging from the coma – and Vegeta would be looking for god-knows-what to "deal" with the situation. That's why she wanted Trunks there first, but he also made a respectable argument to gradually stop treating his father with kid gloves – at least for now. All decisions should be based on circumstance.

Tights took Bulma's hand. "Hey there, smarty pants. It's about time you pulled yourself together." She looked up when her sister's eyes fluttered.

Trunks, who could barely contain his excitement, sat tearfully on the opposite side watching. "I'm here. I'm so ready to see those beautiful eyes. I don't care if they changed color." Bulma's head moved slightly, but her eyes remained closed.

"Kaleb?"

Trunks and Tights' eyes met. Both withheld the extent of their shock and worry that she hadn't said Vegeta's name first. Trunks cleared his throat and leaned over again. "Kaleb?"

"Kaleb..."

Trunks immediately opened a telepathic link with Tights. "It's time to take her off all the drugs now. We'll find a way to handle dad once he realizes that she's awake. I can't wrap my head around this. How can she not ask for him? I don't care about me. This is really bad."

She shook her head. "It is concerning, but I disagree with moving forward so quickly. This Kaleb could be someone real or, maybe, an imaginary person from a coma dream. Let' try to get more information without upsetting her. Her blood pressure is up, but I think we're fine for now. Also, I can't guarantee that Bulma won't say the name again after the drugs are completely out of her system. Her brain still needs to readjust. She may remain in and out of normal consciousness."

"He is on his way here now." Trunks closed his eyes and sighed. "Damn it."

"I guess there's nothing more we can do," Tights replied, squeezing his hand. "Let's prepare for the consequences, good or bad, tough guy."