Recap: Vegeta helped Trunks reunite navigate through an emotional episode and reunite with their family after they both regained consciousness. Time has passed since their ordeal and everyone is trying to find normalcy. Trunks, however, has been left to grapple with memories that weren't meant for him to keep.
"I brought you cherry pie, Vegeta. Eat."
Ella pushed a dessert plate into his hands. The prince had been outside for about an hour, sitting on a bench near Bulma's flower garden. His grandson Tery had been rising earlier to go with him. This time he sent him back to bed after they arrived.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, preparing for another inevitable argument he had not sought. "It's six in the morning. Pie is not the first food selection on my mind."
Undeterred as usual, Ella raised her voice with motherly firmness. "Then come inside. I have other options."
"You always do, along with uninvited opinions about everything," Vegeta said, making room for her on the bench. "That is a high cost for my companionship - and I'm blind, not deaf. Now what do you want?"
He accepted his favorite dessert as a peace offering but ate slowly, knowing Ella would take a competitive win if he gobbled it down instead.
"To worry less, I suppose, Vegeta. That's what…I want."
"You're too old to change that, just like I'm too old to give a damn," he said, nudging her impishly. "Dende says give his healing another month. My blindness arose from an 'abnormal' paranormal event. I tried to keep a straight face hearing him say that, but I still prefer that Namekian's hocus-pocus than earthlings' medical quackery. He has a good track record…with me. At least I can tell the difference between light and dark now."
Ella jabbed a fork into his pie, displeased by his stubbornness. She had special abilities too, but they didn't compromise her beliefs about solid, fact-based medical care.
"Your wife might have thought otherwise, being a scientist."
"So does my daughter-in-law, being a scientist," Vegeta retorted, "and recall that some treatments we expected to work well after Bulma's stroke didn't. But my wife also spent her life embracing life in ways others struggled to understand - including me."
"You had radically different upbringings," Ella said. She lowered her fork, realizing her words stepped too far over the edge.
Vegeta paused, considering whether to pounce or let the subject die. "Just how much have you known about me all along?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I have to return to the kitchen," Ella replied, taking his half-empty plate. "The rest of the family -"
"Can wait," Vegeta said calmly, grasping her arm. "Sit down. You invited yourself out here, so do me the courtesy of answering my question."
Ella wanted to punch herself - hard. Not once had Vegeta given her any reason to fear him, but she understood why others would, even now. His intuitive watchfulness never ceased, no matter how comfortable he appeared.
"We've discussed this. I don't know all of what the family knows intimately about your past, especially not Trunks, Piccolo, and Gohan and his father."
"There are others," Vegeta said, "all of them my wife's friends, originally. You met them. None are invested in digging up more of my history, beyond what they've seen in recent memory. The pros of my survival outweigh the cons for everyone now, more or less. I'm sure Piccolo said that to you."
"Something like that," Ella agreed, "but you are held in much higher regard, in my opinion. You know how I feel."
Vegeta laughed, reflecting on her statement. "I never thought I'd witness you donning rose-colored glasses about me. Please, take them off. If you're living here permanently, then that's my demand for rent. I still have the last word in this home."
"So be it." Ella tapped her foot impatiently. "Glasses are removed. Anything else?"
"Yes, actually." Vegeta grasped the edges of the bench, looking down. "I know you aren't human. You are an émigré, likely from an important family. And clearly you were well-educated before coming here, helping you to fit in well. Also, since you arrived alone, maybe your people were at war - or close to it? Whoever sent you also hoped to make it a reconnaissance mission, I bet. Shall I continue? There's much more."
Vegeta's keen psychological gaze sawed straight through Ella. She, the empath, felt the tables turn with someone she trusted.
She had been warned.
"I never lied to you," she said, hoping to hide her desperation. "I didn't."
"I know. Don't let emotion blur your judgment after my ordeal. Confessions should be weighed against the seriousness of one's offenses. So tell me, have you committed an offense worthy of exposing to me now? Is your guilt that heavy?"
"Vegeta -"
He held up his hand. "OK. Think of it like this. You would have been dead a long time ago if I moderately sensed a threat - and quickly, I might add. I'm good at it. Did it for years. I trust you completely with my family's welfare. That is my imprimatur. Got it?"
Ella cleared her throat, feeling relieved that Vegeta's smooth, exacting interrogation had ended. Sharing her full identity was pointless. He had made that clear.
"Yes," she said quietly. "Will you come in the damned house now?"
Vegeta stood, gallantly holding his left arm out to her. "I learned this chivalry rubbish from Bulma. My acrobatic skills were the only tools that kept me from looking stupid as I practiced waltzing for our daughter's wedding. Take advantage before my mood sours."
"I remember," Ella said, joining arms with him. "You did well - and didn't look sour on the dance floor either. So you've always been extremely light on your feet, I take it."
"Heh," Vegeta grunted, recalling more enjoyable fights. "Ask Kakarot to share a few stories without me there. He does a tolerable impersonation of me."
Sonali held Trunks' waist as they watched Ella and Vegeta from their bedroom window. He faced his wife, moving her closer as they kissed.
"He's out there every day."
"Twice a day," Sonali replied. "He's training like a pro, though. I watched yesterday from the monitor in Bulma's lab. It's even more amazing seeing him battle with the bots."
Trunks shrugged. "I can assure you that he doesn't think so - not unless they're programmed a step below shoot-to-kill. He's likely bored. I have seen him fight blindfolded before in the simulation chamber. Good hearing compensates."
"And his heightened sensitivity to energy levels."
"Well, yes. He doesn't use one-thousandth of his power range, if that. Practicing in his base form like that can be a pain, especially alone, but that core training never outlives its usefulness."
"Trunks, honey, you study everything the man does. Just talk to him. He's giving you space because he respects you, but after everything that's happened, I just think -"
"No, Sonali," Trunks said, turning away abruptly. "I made myself clear."
Sonali's lips pursed. Trunks knew she hated being interrupted before finishing an important thought, and yet he did it anyway. "Just let me finish, OK?"
"I don't want to train with my father. He was right from the beginning, before we moved back home, about working without him. He would ask if he wanted me present - period. He's usually clear about his desires, as you know."
Trunks flinched as Sonali accidentally dropped her hairbrush. He departed for the sitting room agitated and pensive. His mind's cutoff switch flipped again, pushing his wife's appeals aside. Noisier, more caustic mental invaders waged war. He had to fight them.
His eyes shifted with caution. He couldn't lie down anywhere without making sure the room's shadows would remain shadows.
Sonali didn't want to leave him alone, but she couldn't lead Capsule Corporation in absentia any longer either. She had to set a vision for the company's future and reassure employees about theirs. Bulma and Dr. Brief had been larger-than-life role models, with unfailingly loyal workers. Thankfully Sonali had the support of Bulma's sister Tights, who became the company's board chairman and tolerated foolishness from no one.
She picked up her leather shoulder bag, peeking into the other room. "I have to leave for headquarters soon. Maybe you could join me later for lunch on the cafeteria patio? Let some of the ladies drool over your good looks for a while."
Numbness had replaced Trunks' ability to laugh then. He wanted solitude now, tiring of his wife hassling him about what he should do.
"I'll think about it," he said listlessly. "But my parents chose you to make the most out of our inheritance. I have the support I need without being under your microscope twenty-four seven. Do what you need to do."
Left with no options to reconnect with him, Sonali patted the door frame. "Bye. I love you."
"Bye."
Sonali left feeling worse and alone in a way she never expected with the man who had been her best friend and caring lover. She stopped in the main dining room for an oat muffin and fruit, hoping to avoid contact with anyone. Ella usually left snacks around for the family between larger meals.
She dug out a crumbling chunk from the craggy, mountain-sized muffin, stuffing it in her mouth. "No one ever said this would be smooth sailing. One day at a time."
"For what?"
"Shit!" A surprised Sonali swung around, dropping the muffin. "What is wrong with you?!"
"Good morning to you too, sunshine," Vegeta said, looking amusingly innocent. He was far from it, of course. "Why are you up this early?"
"Maybe I learned a thing or two from you," Sonali snapped, then caught herself, expression softening. "I can get more thinking done at the main office. That's all."
Vegeta tapped each chair, making his way toward her. He counted every object these days if it wasn't thrown at him for sport.
"I thought you wanted to work here on Fridays, to be with the twins and sleep-in later."
Feeling teary, Sonali touched Vegeta's cheek lovingly. She spoke with a steady tone to hide her hurt. "Bye, dad. I'm fine. I love you. Remember what you told me about getting soft? I'm flexing my corporate muscles today. I'll make you proud."
Vegeta wasn't fooled. She only touched him this way when upset. Trunks played a role, obviously. "I am already proud, and you are not fine, but I'll leave you to your thoughts for now."
"I…gotta go. Expect Trunks to come down later."
"How is he sleeping?"
"He shouldn't use narcotics in his condition to sleep - at all. The new medication he's on appears to be working. His nightmares are decreasing. That's why he left for bed early last night before the kids could spend time with him. He needs the rest. Dad, I really must go now."
"Yes, yes," Vegeta replied. "I won't keep you any longer."
"Appears to be working" is not reassuring, he thought. His daughter-in-law's exit left him wondering what more he could do. The buoyant light that fled from his son's eyes was nowhere close to returning. Sonali's voice indicated that. He wasn't hurt that Trunks avoided training in any way with him. Gohan and Piccolo offered disciplined, meditative company as "therapy." That had been the prince's plan anyway, before tragedy struck the family with Bulma's death. Although Goten didn't follow in his father or older brother's path, he helped by taking twins to have the kind of lighthearted fun he and Trunks experienced as childhood best friends.
Everyone tried.
Tery and Tasmin appeared unsure more often about being near their father, worrying Vegeta most. Trunks was a sturdy soul as a boy, largely ignoring his father's awkwardness showing affection "normally." But the twins unmistakably had an effusive, emotionally available father from day one. That's all they knew from Trunks. As their grandfather, Vegeta didn't want to be seen as a replacement for the living man who gave them life.
He sat down at the head of the table, finishing his coffee. You said I would be fine looking after two generations of our family without you. Thanks a lot, Bulma. At least I don't want to die anymore. I suppose that's a good start, but don't complain if I take my sweet time seeing you again.
He lit a cigar. He had earned the right to smoke in the house….just once.
Ella brought him an ash tray and left.
Trunks picked up the bottle of sleeping pills that had become a godsend for getting through the night without awakening sweat-drenched from nightmares. He wasn't taking the other drug, despite being told it worked well for these episodes. For him, proper rest meant total uninterrupted unconsciousness a few rungs above death. He started sleeping in the sitting room after a particularly chilling vision one night of Frieza's tail around his neck, dragging him away helpless and drugged to be sodomized against his will.
Whom could he tell? The man who likely experienced these horrors? Episodes shifted between Vegeta's very real memories and Trunks' anxieties over the depths of their darkness. He barely trusted his perception of normal events when awake. How did his father get through any of this? He thought he understood, many times over, but he knew nothing - absolutely nothing at all.
He could meditate and spar all day with Gohan and Piccolo and still return home anxious and irritable. He had steadily lost interest being with them, too. His partners knew, but they persisted.
Gohan's patience with Trunks' condition almost seemed supernatural. Maybe it was. He took special interest in his friend primarily because of Vegeta's unique influence on him. Had he not learned how to manage his traumatic experiences early, he would have lost his mind and probably massacred everything within sight. His mental triggers were legion, but he leaned into all of them to grow stronger. Piccolo, his toughest teacher, taught him focus. His father Goku taught him not to fear his inborn power.
From Vegeta he learned vulnerability and humility. Time and again, the prince was brought low in demeaning ways, but inch by inch he gained power and discernment. He seized air during battle, holding it between his gloved fingers like a mad scientist. Vegeta was the only man Gohan knew who could be an unapologetic ass for days and teach prize-winning battlefield lessons like a tenured college professor.
He would not let Trunks succumb to the raw darkness and traumas from which Vegeta emerged victorious. He would remind Trunks about the rowdy childhood bravery everyone recalled fondly about Saiyan prince's son.
Having finished homework with her tutor early afternoon, Tasmin wanted to see her father, who had spent most of the day in the bedroom. Her grandfather and brother had left for the nature preserve, with Goku's help getting there. Vegeta gave her explicit instructions to let Trunks rest, saying her father would be refreshed and ready to spend time with the family afterward.
Ella was nowhere close, so Tasmin knocked softly on the master bedroom's door. After hearing nothing, she entered and walked as quietly as possible. Her father had moments when certain noises bothered him more than others. Trunks was seated on the floor, next to his bed. His legs were upright, arms draped across his knees. His bowed head rested on top.
Tasmin walked closer, bending sideways to get his attention.
"Daddy? Are you OK? Dad?"
Bulla was the first to hear her screams.
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