"Gure, I would really like to talk to you about this in private," the young prince told his wife, warily eying his sister-in-law.

Bulma, however, did not miss the look for a second. "What's going on, Tarble?" she demanded. Tarble's face was as blank as he could make it, but after years of living with Vegeta, it was not difficult for the heiress to decipher the look. "What are you planning to do?"

Gure placed her teacup on the saucer and glanced between her sister-in-law and her husband. She was not entirely certain what was going on, but she had a feeling that the safest thing she could do for the time being was to sit patiently.

"I told you," Tarble ground out, his anger more visible than before, "I have something to discuss with my wife."

"Oh no you don't, mister," the heiress retorted, getting to her feet and putting her hands on her hips. "I know that look. You're about to do something stupid, so you might as well just tell us what it is so we can talk you out of it."

"Stop pretending that you know me!" Tarble yelled back.

Bulma rolled her eyes, ultimately unphased. "Temper tantrums are not going to slow me down." Slowly, the blue haired woman approached her brother-in-law and glared at him. "What's up?"

"Bulma," Gure softly interrupted, pulling on her dear friend's sleeve, "leave him be."

"He's up to something," the heiress retaliated. "I don't like it when people in my home are trying to pull a fast one on me. Now he can either talk me about it or else."

Tarble stepped up, glaring at the scientist as fiercely as he could. "Or else what?" he challenged.

But once again, years with Vegeta have given the woman a temperance toward such threats, particularly when spoken with such poor skill. "Don't tempt me," she darkly replied. "Ask your brother if you doubt my ability to make someone's life a living hell."

"I have no brother."

The woman took a step back and her jaw dropped. "Tarble! What the hell has gotten in to you?"

The Saiyan, though, was fed up. Not bothering to say another word to his sister-in-law, Tarble stalked forward and grabbed his wife's arm. He pulled her aggressively behind him, dragging her into the living room.

"Tarble?" the small woman quietly asked. "What's wrong?"

"We're leaving," he growled, not looking his wife in the eye.

Gure's eyes were enormous in an instant. "What are you talking about?"

"We're leaving," the Saiyan said again. Once again, he refused to look the little woman in the eye. He knew that she would not want to leave, but in his own mind, they had no choice. "Pack what you can."

Gure struggled to pull her arm free, but the grip was too tight for her to get far. "Tarble, stop it," she gently pleaded. The grip was so tight that it was actually starting to hurt.

Tarble shook his head, staring down the hall. "You need to pack."

"Tarble, you're hurting me," she told him, her voice moving into the poor tones of a whimper.

His hand opened in a flash, and Tarble glanced down at the arm. He had not been fully aware of how hard he had been holding her, but the difference in color was enough to tell him that he had used excessive force. "Forgive me," he gently spoke, dropping his hands to his sides. "But please hurry up."

"No," the tiny woman firmly stated, standing her ground. "Tarble, we are not going to go anywhere until you tell me exactly what is going on here. Now tell me," she urged, floating up to cup her husband's face. "Tell me what happened."

"I can't stay," he softly growled back. "I can't stay with him any longer."

"But why?" Gure demanded. "Tarble, tell me what happened with you and your brother!"

"I don't have a brother!" the Saiyan roared. In his rage, he grabbed the corner of the couch and launched it across the room. It smashed into the wall, splintering into a thousand shards and sending clouds of dust through the air.

The slap echoed through the room, and Tarble's head snapped to the side from the force. Stunned, all he could do was stare at the wall, wondering what had just happened. Never, in all the years they had known each other, had they ever caused one another pain. And yet there they were, Gure with a bruised arm and Tarble with wounded face, neither one seeming truly repentant of their actions.

"What is the matter with you?" Gure demanded, still hovering in the air. Her palm stung from her actions, and she shook it out slightly. "What happened?"

Tarble continued to stare at the wall. How could she strike him? How could she do that to him? After everything they had been through, how could she?"

"Tarble," Gure softly said, her tone once again taking a gently approach, "tell me what happened to you." With a tender touch, she guided his face forward. "I'm sorry I hit you," she whispered. "Please, talk to me."

"You hit me," he bluntly stated.

"I know," Tarble softly replied. "I shouldn't have done that. I am sorry that I did. I just didn't know what to do." She brushed the collecting dust off of his cheeks with her thumbs. "You were scaring me, Tarble."

Tarble's breath hitched, and he dropped his eyes to the floor. "I didn't mean to," he whispered.

Gure shook her head, letting out a tired sigh. "I know," she told him, "but whether you meant to or not, you did. Talk to me, Tarble. Tell me what's going on."

Not for a moment did he raise his gaze. "He said I'm not his brother."

"What?"

"He said I am not his brother," Tarble said, a little more clearly. He was trembling, and Gure did not miss the droplets of sweat forming along his neck. "He said we were not family."

Gure frowned, a rare expression for her. She had never seen her husband in such a state before. There was so much anger, so much hatred. In all the years she had known him, through all their trials and tribulations together, not once had she seen him that hateful. "Tarble," she softly spoke, trying to keep her voice loving but firm, "you need to calm down."

"This was all meaningless," the prince hissed, his anger rising once more. "I came for a brother, and he led me on. He never intended to be one, but he kept me here anyway!"

"No one kept us here, honey," the petite woman told her husband. "We were invited to stay. You were offered a home. They never said that we could not leave whenever we wished."

"Then let's leave," Tarble shot back. "We'll leave and never come back."

"Tarble..." Gure no longer knew what to do. She wanted to tell him that he was just a little emotional right now, that if he could calm down, they could work something out. More than that, she wanted to tell him that she was tired of running from world to world and barely getting by. She had a home again, damn it, and she wanted to stay. But with Tarble so angry, and clearly barely in control, she was, for the first time, afraid to talk to him. With her hands trembling slightly, she dropped to the floor. She was at a total loss, and without saying another word, she turned her back on him and walked back toward the kitchen.

Shocked by her reaction, Tarble began to follow his wife. He did not know why she had left him, only that it hurt when she was gone. "Gure?" he called out, jogging after her. He rounded the corner into the kitchen, but found himself blocked by his sister-in-law.

"No," Bulma firmly stated, opening up her arms to widen her stance. "You're not getting near her. Not when you're like this."

Tarble growled and took a step forward. "You don't have the right to..."

"I have every right," Bulma angrily interrupted, "to protect a friend. Now, I don't know what's got your panties in such a twist, but until you get this out of your system, you're not getting near her."

"I would never hurt her!" he shouted, powering up slightly without being aware of it.

"You already have."

Tarble knew he had accidentally bruised Gure's arm when he had grabbed her earlier, and he really did regret that action, but he was too mad at that point to let reason lead the way. "Get out of my way," he threatened, closing the gap between them.

But Bulma stood her ground. She would have been lying if she said she was not at all nervous. Tarble was clearly in a state of turmoil, and it looked as though he would snap at any minute. He may not have been powerful when compared to his brother, but next to a small human woman, he was a powerhouse. If he wanted to attack, if he chose to take it to the next level, Bulma knew perfectly well that she did not stand a chance. All she could do was hope that either Tarble got himself under control, or that Vegeta would round the corner soon. Whether they happened or not, though, she would not stand down.

Tarble took another step forward, ready to move the Earthling by force, when a rough hand fell upon his shoulder and hauled him backwards. He was not even aware of what was going on before a fierce strike collided with his neck and brought him completely out of consciousness.

/

Tarble groaned as he opened his eyes. The light burned, and he quickly shut them again and turned his head away. He tried to bring his hand up to block the scorching rays, but much to his surprise, he could not lift his arm.

He tried a few more times to raise either of his arms, but when neither of them would give so much as an inch, he barely dared to crack his eye open again. It burned as he slid his eyelids apart, but he knew he had to do it. A couple minutes passed as his eyes fought to adjust, and it felt as though his head would explode from the pressure.

As his eyes finally found focus, his body went rigid. He recognized the inside of the gravity room almost instantly, and that was not so much of a surprise, but the straps on his limbs and body were. He had been completely restrained without any hope of being able to get up without being freed.

"What the hell?" he growled, fighting against the straps. It was completely useless, though. He could not move at all. He had no idea how he got where he was or how he had been restrained. The last thing he remembered was trying to get to Gure.

Gure had walked away from him, he remembered that. And Bulma had been there...right? Yes, she had been blocking him for some reason. Why had she gotten in his way? She said that she was...protecting Gure? That could not be right. Why would she need to protect Gure from him? He would never hurt her! How could they even think such a thing?

Once again he strained against the restraints, grunting with his efforts. The straps felt as though they were cutting into his flesh, but the idea of being forcibly held down was maddening. He felt like he was going to die if he could not get free.

"Don't bother," a dark voice growled. "You are not getting out of here any time soon."

Tarble could not help but shake in fear. The voice was recognizable instantly, and never had it sounded so dangerous. "Vegeta?" he timidly asked, turning his head to the side.

The elder Saiyan was on the far side of the room, glaring furiously at the restrained man. He honestly looked as though he was just barely able to control his rage. "You are lucky that you are alive right now, you son of a bitch," he sneered.

The sweat rolled freely down Tarble's neck and began to pool on the floor. "Why?" he asked, already frightened of the answer.

As had happened so many times before, Vegeta moved faster than Tarble could follow. However, the boot to his throat had more pressure and a much greater unspoken threat than Tarble had experienced. "Because," Vegeta darkly told the younger prince, "I told you that if you ever, ever, showed yourself to be a threat to my family, you would be lucky to be so much as a smear on these walls. And you, you miserable waste of space, threatened my wife." He lowered his foot half an inch more, compressing the younger man's chest to the point where Tarble could not breath at all.

Tarble opened his mouth as wide as he could, desperate to get air but failing miserably in his attempt. A small choking sound emitted from his throat as he struggled, but it was only from choking on his own saliva. Vegeta was not talking to him anymore, just watching as the younger prince suffered. After twenty seconds, he pushed down further.

The smaller man thought he was going to die. He could not breathe. He could not move. And little bit by little bit, Tarble became acutely aware of the loss of sensation in his digits. His fingers were totally numb, and his hands were following fast. His lips tingled, starved for oxygen, and his eyes bulged wide with fear,

He's going to do it, Tarble thought, staring at his brother in horror. He's going to kill me, and he's going to do it slowly! Oh, God, what do I do?

The hands and feet were numb, and that sensation spread up his arms and legs extremely quickly. Tarble continued to fight against it, but so far as he could tell, he was not actually managing to move a single part of his body, save his eyelids. Before he knew it, Table's entire body was numb up to the throat.

I'm going to die, he thought, his vision fighting to stay. I…I don't want to die! I don't want to die! Save me! Someone, anyone, SAVE ME!

One last hard shove was forced against his chest, and suddenly the boot was gone. Tarble's entire body convulsed as he desperately gasped for air. Practically in seizure, the young prince tried to gain a grasp on the world around him. He had been so far gone for so long that his systems were barely online, and for a moment, salvation was worse than death.

"Can you hear me?"

Tarble barely registered the words, but he was just barely coherent enough to nod. Talking would have been far too much for him to handle.

"Good," Vegeta growled. "Here is what is going to happen to your life. You will stay in here from now until you are under control. You will eat in here. You will sleep in here. You will be completely entombed in this room without so much as a form of communication from your precious little wife."

Loosening up the straps, allowing the younger man up, Vegeta gave his brother one last sneer. "And I am not letting you out of my sight for one second."