It just didn't seem right splitting this into two chapters. I tried to do it a couple times. In any case, I hope you enjoy it. Keep the reviews coming, and thank you!

Bulma sat next to her sleeping husband to watch him breathe. For someone so strong he seemed thoroughly exhausted. He hadn't eaten dinner that night either, but she decided not to wake him.

She loved him so much. Vegeta almost always knew when she cried at night no matter how silent she tried to be. He would awaken to hold her without saying a word. Sometimes she cried from physical pain. Other times she wept at the thought of becoming an "old lady" in the traditional sense. It got on her nerves. Men were considered distinguished as they aged, while some women became invisible. She tried not to wonder how soon it would happen with him, even though she knew the fear was irrational.

On this night she felt like a hypocrite. She recalled lecturing her husband about "living in the moment" together, yet here she was feeling troubled. Without opening his eyes, Vegeta reached behind him to touch her arm.

"Are you crying?"

"Shhh." Bulma placed her finger over her lips. "Go back to sleep, gorgeous. I'm fine."

"What time is it, Bulma?"

"After nine."

Still groggy, Vegeta rolled over. He wondered how long she had been sitting there. "I slept for six hours?"

"What do you expect, man?" Bulma gave him an annoyed look. "You were borderline drunk at three in the afternoon."

"Oh yeah, I guess I was. Are you angry with me?"

"Sometimes you act like a little boy," she replied. "It can be cute - until it's not cute. Are you hungry?"

Vegeta moved to sit next to her. "Okay then. You are not angry. I will find something to eat later."

"Vegeta, look, don't make what happened today a habit. You know I'm no prude making a good drink and having fun, but you were on the edge today, which tells me that you've been drinking alone. We laughed a lot this afternoon, but you weren't yourself. Trunks was concerned enough to ask me, even though he was embarrassed about it. I dislike lying to our son."

"You chose to lie," Vegeta said, "and he is an adult, but that is less important. I heard your anxieties and this will not be a problem for us anymore. I promise."

Bulma leaned over to kiss him. "I want you and Trunks to leave home to train together at some point. For now, promise me you will start slow with him this week at home - and not your version of slow. Sonali should be on her feet soon, and it would be great if we all went to the beach together."

"You must have read my mind."

"Oh really?" Bulma raised her eyebrow at him. "I doubt that."

"No, I'm serious. Trunks and I will determine his pace. He needs to practice skills that do not require hand-to-hand combat, but right now I am not concerned with his hands."

He kissed Bulma again. They hadn't had sex in a while for various reasons. Sometimes she avoided him touching her in certain places. That hurt him a lot. He wanted to make her feel good when she wasn't in pain. Kissing was the one luxury they could indulge in without awkwardness. He loved her neck the most. When he heard her sigh with pleasure, he looked up and touched her face. Then he pulled her in closer for a deeper kiss. They moved in deeper until the pace of their breathing quickened - the pace of partners who would soon make love.

Then Bulma pushed away from their embrace.

"Okay, honey," she said gently, kissing him once more. "I think I should go to bed now. You have my permission to devour all the food in kitchen tonight."

Vegeta put on his robe with his back to her. He needed to deal with his disappointment respectfully, so he chose not to feel anything at all after that moment.

"Yes, Bulma. I agree that you should get lots of rest, because we are meeting with someone tomorrow afternoon. Good night."

A tall, grey-haired man fidgeted nervously in the Briefs' library as he sat observing the dignified opulence of the room. A beautiful oil-paint portrait of Bulma and Vegeta faced him from the opposite wall. He was slightly amused that Vegeta looked so content in the painting, although the Saiyan prince was barely smiling. However, the way his arm protectively held Bulma's side said enough. Husband and wife were joined at hip. All those two needed were gold-plated thrones and crowns on their heads to match their regal pose. Their situation was a far cry from when the three of them first met many years before.

He looked down at his legs, touching them both above the knee, and sighed. He had brought a small gift for Bulma, which he purposely didn't mention to her husband, who had invited him there. He wasn't too worried about Vegeta's possible reaction to his gesture. He took a deep breath as they approached the door. He snickered listening to the irritation in Bulma's voice, followed by Vegeta's subdued growl at her. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Can you just be silent for once in your life?"

"Don't tell me to be quiet, Vegeta. Shall I keep my eyes closed until scales grow on my corneas? This is absurd."

"What part of surprise do you not understand, woman? You usually prefer these children's games. My dignity stops me from seeking praise from you about my thoughtfulness and mirth."

The clacking of Bulma's crutch near the library's door gave their guest pause. He was more familiar with that particular sound than he preferred to be. The last few years hadn't been kind to his body and spirit either. Vegeta nodded to him as he led Bulma led to a chaise lounge nearby. The prince was loving and methodically attentive to his wife's needs: taking her crutch; carefully moving her legs onto the seat and covering them with a blanket; placing a pillow behind her head and arm for support. Whatever reservations their guest had about being there vanished. He would've done the same thing if he were in Vegeta's position. Only a man that secure with himself would seek help from another man who clearly disliked him.

"You may open your eyes now, Bulma."

"I should keep them closed strictly out of spite, Saiyan."

"Damn you." Vegeta tugged on a piece of her hair. "Open them now or else I'm throwing your makeup kits on fire outside."

"Fine, fine," Bulma said as she opened her eyes. Confused, she gazed at the man standing before her, who was anxiously touching a scar on his face. Vegeta crossed his arms and stepped back.

"Hello, Dr. Brief. I see Vegeta has finally made you speechless after all of these years. It's a miracle."

"Yamcha?"

"Glad you still recognize me, toots!" He bent down next to her and laughed. "I stopped dyeing my hair. Instead of 'the desert bandit,' I guess you can call me the silver wolf now."

"Tch." Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Get on with it before I change my mind, you clown."

"Change your mind about what, Vegeta?" Bulma's face darkened. "Is this what I think it is?"

"He asked me to help you," Yamcha replied. "I'm happy to be your trainer if you're willing to accept the offer."

Bulma's eyes stared at the windows as if the both men had suddenly disappeared. Slightly hurt by her rejection, Yamcha clasped his hands and looked down at the floor.

"Leave us alone for a few, silver wolf." Vegeta's order came from politeness more than frustration. "We have snacks around here for domesticated animals. Our grandchildren will help you find them in the kitchen."

"Thanks for offering, jackass." Yamcha looked over at Bulma and smiled. "I am hungry. Don't be too hard on him after, toots."

Vegeta leaned against the door after he left, awaiting his wife's response. He was prepared to wait for hours if necessary. Bulma casually unfolded a newspaper. She was upset, and when that happened she struggled more while speaking. That pissed her off with him even further.

"Would you get me some coffee please?"

"Having a quiet tantrum will not work, Bulma. Give old scar face a chance to work with you."

"Vegeta," Bulma said angrily, "get some coffee - now. Take five minutes before returning. I will be ready to speak rationally then, and apologize to Yamcha on my behalf for making him wait."

Vegeta lit the fireplace to warm the room. Bulma was having a small pain attack - he sensed it - but he held back from reacting because they had to get through this conversation.

"I will not apologize, Bulma. You have chosen to be rude, not I. Keep in mind that when someone offers a gift such as this, it is wise and proper to acknowledge it, even if you cannot accept."

"Don't lecture me about etiquette!" She threw the newspaper down. "That man can't stand you, and he's my…"

"He's your ex-boyfriend," Vegeta replied dryly. "How could I forget? Do you still have amorous feelings for him? Perhaps you will reconsider if I remove his ridiculous hairpiece."

"Ugh!" Bulma pulled up her blanket. "Stop teasing me."

He sat down next to her. "Are you still cold? I can find another blanket. I was not trying to make you angry, you know."

"Yes, you were." Bulma swallowed at first, and then she pinched the back of Vegeta's hand as hard as she could. "It's in your nature to bait people into a blind rage to get your way. Now just get the damned coffee, honey."

Vegeta was silent for a moment before he stood up. "I believe he can help because you share similar experiences."

"Because of his leg amputations…"

"Even with his new legs Yamcha still struggles with his loss as anyone would… just like you." Vegeta gazed at the ceiling. "You asked me to pull back, and that man knows I would rather eat rusty nails than seek help if I knew I could do better. We have come far together, Bulma, but you were correct. You need a different approach. I'm too close."

"What I don't need is charity, Saiyan. I asked you to stop treating me like a defective project. Your pity is worse."

"I will get your coffee. Do you want your pills too?"

"No, Vegeta, and you're being unfair. Yes, I know I'm taking more for the breakthrough pain, but I told you I'm ready for therapy - with the right person."

"You cannot have it both ways, woman. Your pain is worse today, though. Since she's still here, I will ask Ella to bring some medicine and examine you before it becomes unbearable. Neither of us wants that."

Vegeta hated saying that - hated it - but he was being selfish. Bulma didn't yell out anymore when her pain was at its worst. Instead she cried silently, and he just couldn't endure that happening. It broke his heart every single time.

Bulma slammed her crutch on the floor. "No, no, no. Ella will give me the pills, but then she'll bitch about reducing my dependence on them. Besides, I have a ton of work to do."

Vegeta bent over to kiss her. "You have a point."

Bulma had expected him to ask Chi-Chi or Krillin or maybe Gohan's wife Videl to help. They were accomplished martial artists and spiritualists who could help her stay strong and, perhaps, meditate. She had never been good at the latter.

But Yamcha?

She didn't ask Vegeta for a confidant with a physical disability. That role belonged to him. Did this mean he gave up trying to understand what she was going through?

"You're dozing."

"No, bandit," Bulma said sleepily. "I'm thinking with my eyes closed. I knew my husband would send you back here."

Yamcha placed a wicker tray across her lap and poured coffee. A tiny pill box had been placed on the right side. Bulma didn't look at him directly as she swallowed them.

"You know, toots, it was hard for Vegeta to come to me. He sure has mellowed over the years. That's what love does, I guess."

"For heaven's sake, would you stop explaining my husband's feelings?" Bulma placed her cup on the tray and frowned. "Honestly, as much as we love each other, deep down I know he still feels like I'm acting like a pathetic weakling. He called you that once too, right? It's insane for you to play couple's therapist with us when you can barely tolerate being near him. He shouldn't have asked you for anything."

"First, stop wallowing in your own self-pity, Bulma." Yamcha nodded for her to look at the painting. "You know Vegeta has never called you pathetic - not once. Yes, he was one of the meanest, most vile men I knew back then, but your fiery ways enchanted him. It was mind-blowing for everyone. And whether you like it or not, I know exactly what you're going through. My thoughts about your spouse are irrelevant. I'm here for you."

"With all due respect, you don't know how I feel."

"Really now?" Yamcha mentally deactivated his left leg and lengthened her crutch to match his height. Then he reduced the power flow to his other leg.

"And just what are you doing?" Bulma already knew the answer, but she hated his condescending attempt to teach her a lesson. What was this? Let's compare who has it worse? She wanted to throw him out.

Yamcha slowly walked around the room. "Since you asked, for starters, now I can't move well without this crutch. So I remember what it was like."

"You really don't have to do this," Bulma replied defiantly. "I'm already pissed off."

"Let me guess." Yamcha raised his eyebrow. "You aren't sleeping well, unless you're heavily dosed with drugs, because the pain is terrible at night. You avoid saying how bad the episodes have become because you don't want anyone to worry. You continue pushing yourself in unproductive ways that could do more harm. Your family is emotionally torn because they support your need for independence, but they also want you to be safe."

"Well done, bandit!" Bulma sneered back at him. "Well done. When did you get your psychotherapy license?"

Yamcha faced her. "You also fear that, one day, the crushing depression you felt during rehab will consume you. You're not ready to die at all, but sometimes you still feel like it would've been better - and you feel guilty. Shall I proceed?"

"That's enough, Yamcha."

"Splendid. I finally touched a nerve with you."

Bulma smoothed out the wrinkles in her blanket. At least the medicine was making her feel better. "I suppose you expect me to cry. Well that's not happening - and give me my crutch. You're being melodramatic hobbling around here like a lost puppy."

Yamcha chuckled. "What I expect, my dear, is for you to give Vegeta credit for swallowing his pride to find the best person to help you. Now would you let this one-time Tenkaichi Budokai fighter and best baseball coach ever show you some tricks?"

"You're still a charming bastard, and I hate you for that. We'll try this for a week, and if I'm unhappy you're returning to the baseball dugout."

"Excellent! My wife will be thrilled that I'm making myself useful. She made me promise to give her progress reports, too."

Bulma's eyes widened with alarm. "Please don't bore Candace with my troubles. The last thing I need is a gaggle of her nosy friends bringing whole-grain bread to help with my bowel movements and unattractive hosiery to improve blood flow in my legs. I have a nurse on call for that torture."

Standing outside the library, Vegeta felt somewhat glum and jealous as he heard Yamcha plead on his behalf - far too dramatically, in his opinion - but it worked. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets as he walked away, listening to his wife's laughter. At least she wasn't in pain.

"Father, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You're lying."

"I am," Vegeta said flatly. "Now leave me alone, Trunks."

"Is this about Yamcha and mom?"

"Some days I feel like I need a language interpreter with all of you," Vegeta replied grumpily. "Leave the subject alone. Are you ready? How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." Trunks' eyes traced the landscape. "We've done low-impact exercise all week. I'm almost at full strength."

"You're lying."

"I am, but I'm still ready to go." Trunks raised his fist and coughed. "I'm surprised you didn't wake me at 5 a.m."

Vegeta handed him a thermos with hot tea. "And you did not try hard to find me later, even though you knew I was in the gravity room. Anyway, it was better for you to sleep longer - although it is enormously maddening how soft I am now. I always enjoyed dragging out of bed early when you were a child."

The men were driving together to the seaside. They would remain there through the day and stay overnight at a nearby inn. Their family would join them the following day.

"Mom seems to be doing okay so far, and it's only been a week."

Vegeta parked on the side of the road. He chose that option over shoving Trunks through the sun roof of their SUV.

"Son, please stop this because I have zero motivation to yell at you - but that might change. Your mother has the support she needs. How I feel is beside the point. I made the right choice precisely because it hurt to do it. Is that honest enough for you?"

"Yes." Trunks opened the car door and waved at his father to join him. "Let's take a walk."

"For fuck's sake, boy." Vegeta slammed his door. "You enjoy testing my patience. We will be in the area a few days. You can skip through the grass when everyone else arrives."

They removed their shoes to navigate sand trails neatly tucked between brown beach grass. The chilly air didn't bother them, although Trunks' lingering cough still concerned Vegeta.

Trunks turned and jogged backward, facing his father. "You do realize I know how much you enjoy having us here - in spite of our illnesses and arguments. You needed it."

Vegeta threw pellets of sandy dirt at him at high speed. "I need your brood's chaos like I need a bullet in my head, boy."

"You are holding back on me," Trunks said as he blocked the shots with his fingers. "They're just dirt balls."

Vegeta stopped and threw the pellets over his shoulder. "Son, I want you to come live with us at the estate."

"Say what?"

"You and Sonali have nothing to prove anymore. You are moving to West City anyway."

"What do you mean we have nothing to prove?"

"When you married, you rejected the help Bulma offered. I was not troubled, of course. You had to make your own way. Seeing Sonali heavily pregnant and bedridden in that one-bedroom shanty of yours was only time I felt anxious."

"And now?"

"Our home is large, and your sister is not returning. Your aunts and uncles would drive Bulma and me insane if they moved in, so we are willfully ignoring their hints. Maybe they could stay eventually… if something happens to one of us."

Trunks grabbed a piece of grass to chew on. "Let's return to the car. We have a few miles left and a lot of exercising to do."

Both dressed in white, Vegeta and Trunks stood on a cliff with their eyes closed. Their arms and legs moved slowly and rhythmically through several postures. At one point they looked like they were molding the clouds in their hands. Sonali and Bulma watched them from their spot on the beach below. They had driven down that morning with the twins and were now relaxing.

"Just look at them, Bulma. I've never seen Trunks do this before. They look like they're swimming on the horizon. It's absolutely beautiful. I thought for sure they would be hollering and knocking each other around in a battle. Are you warm enough, by the way?"

"My husband is full of surprises. He learned this practice late in life, in fact. The exercise was challenging because he had to slow down in order to do it appropriately. Now help me stand up. I want to move closer to the shore - and yes, I'm warm enough. You see these thermal clothes Vegeta forced me to wear today."

"Okay." Sonali dusted her off. "How will we do this? You need your hover chair. What about the crutch?"

"I'll use Artemis, but I don't want my crutch. Just hold on to my side after we arrive. The sand is sturdy enough to walk a few steps. I can rest on that rock over there."

Sonali threw a tiny capsule several feet behind her to unload the hover chair. "Artemis, come!"

The women held each other as foam-laced waves and seaweed clumps washed across their feet. The water was cold, but Bulma would've stood for hours if possible, and Sonali would've gladly helped if they had the stamina to stay rooted there.

"I've never been to this part of the seaside before, Bulma. You and dad have become real naturalists."

"We have been for years." Bulma closed her eyes and inhaled. "We had no reason to broadcast it. Now I have a question for you. Are you ready for it?"

"Ready for what?"

"Are you ready for this new life of yours?"

"If you mean am I ready to start at Capsule Corporation, then yes," Sonali said happily. "I turned in my resignation to my job before we left for the beach. Trunks will resign soon too."

Bulma shifted her gaze to the cliff. "Look over there at our husbands and think again about what I'm asking you, Sonali."

"Dr. Brief, not to sound offensive, but I feel like you're testing me on a subject I haven't studied."

Bulma closed her eyes again and sighed. "Will you be ready if my only son returned from fighting with a stab wound next to his heart, and the only thing keeping him alive is his will? Are you prepared for other mortals threatening him because of his father's history? What if an evil force possessed his brilliant mind to the point where you couldn't recognize him anymore?"

Sonali wrapped a blanket around their shoulders. At first she thought her mother-in-law was having some kind of rapid-onset depression, but that was illogical. She was in fairly good spirits before they arrived at the beach.

"Bulma, honey, please stop this. You're upsetting yourself."

"I am not upset, darling. I'm saying this for you. How will you weather the peaks and valleys in your relationship from now on? What about when one of your children follows his path? And trust me, one will. Can you accept it? Because that's the life you're facing. It's not only about running my company."

"Threats will continue whether or not Trunks fights," Sonali replied. "I am prepared to accept whatever happens. I was when I married into this family."

Bulma shook her head. "You aren't hearing me. Trunks may choose his mission over other concerns in spite of his devotion to you. It's not just about protecting Earth. He's avoided it for a long time, but this way of life calls him because, ultimately, he is Prince Vegeta's son. That's why I allowed my husband to take Trunks places to see him train and fight, within reason, when they were younger. I went when I could too.

"Although Vegeta wanted this for years, he now has mixed feelings about Trunks doing this because of our own sacrifices. Marriage is hard enough without these obligations, and my son's heart would shatter if you left him."

"I won't leave him - not ever." Sonali felt overwhelmed, but she understood Bulma's need for closure. The woman was passing a torch light to her.

Bulma bent over slightly to catch her breath. She recalled Yamcha's first lessons that week about "leaning into the pain," although this episode felt like it would last longer.

Sonali lovingly stroked her mother-in-law's hair. The women exchanged glances, each seeing another version of themselves in their eyes.

"We should return, Dr. Brief."

"I see the boys going to start the fire." Bulma paused and looked around. "By the way, where the hell are your brats?"

Sonali laughed softly. "They will find us. Come along now."