A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.
Blood swirled around the bottom of the shower, creating a spiderweb of red before disappearing down the drain. Vegeta felt as if a part of him had been sucked down too, leaving him hollow and cold, despite the heat of the steaming water. He scrubbed his skin viciously to get the last remnants of the man he'd just slaughtered off him.
His hands trembled, but no longer due to the bloodlust. That had thankfully vanished as the life of the serial killer drained away. The shaking could have been a reaction to his leftover adrenaline, but was more likely due to the dawning understanding that he'd felt righteous in watching the light fade from that man's eyes. The barista deserved to die, he had no doubt, but since the serial killer had also murdered a mere fraction of the people Vegeta had, the Saiyan knew he shouldn't have felt anything but the desire to slake his bloodlust.
Vegeta turned the shower to cold and forced himself to stand there, head bowed, until the frigid water cascading over him caused the shaking to take over his whole body. Finally, he turned off the tap. He got dried and dressed, intending to shut himself in his room for the night.
Then he felt his son's ki.
It had been there the whole time of course, and no change in its level had occurred, but now that he wasn't plagued by headaches and distracted with the overwhelming need to kill, Vegeta found himself hyper-aware of it. Its similarity to the teenage boy he'd spent a year with was uncanny. Almost on autopilot, he made his way down the halls of Capsule Corp, then entered his son's room.
He'd never been inside it before, and glanced around curiously. A soft night light gave the room a warm glow. Purple walls were lined with pictures of teddy bears and the furniture, which included a strange cage with no roof, a set of drawers and a chair that appeared to be set on two curved sticks, were all a pale blue. Vegeta scrunched up his nose in disgust. This was most certainly not a Saiyan child's room.
He only had himself to blame, he supposed as he ventured over to the cage to peer in. It wasn't as if the woman had a clue how Saiyans were usually raised, and he certainly hadn't bothered to tell her.
Vegeta placed his hands - the same hands that had taken a life less then two hours ago - on the rail of the barred bed, wrapping his fingers around the painted wood and taking in the sight of the child lying before him.
How was it possible that he, who had been snatching away lives since he was a boy, had also played a part in producing this small, vulnerable life?
Trunks lay on his back, breathing softly with little snuffling noises. In the dim light, Vegeta could just make out his soft features. With his eyes closed and purple hair under a wooly hat, the boy really did look like him.
Vegeta had never studied his infant son too closely before. He felt that if he looked too hard, he would begin to rub off on Trunks and twist his son into the same kind of evil Vegeta had been turned into. The teenage version of his son had been untainted, something Vegeta was secretly thankful for. If he stayed on this planet, could he avoid moulding the child into the same kind of monster he was?
A sick tingling in the pit of his stomach told him that no matter what, if he stayed he would find a way to wreck his child's life. Pushing that sensation away, Vegeta slipped out of the room as quietly as he'd entered, reaching out mentally to detect the ki of the only other person on this planet he cared about.
She felt him enter, the humming sensation of his presence luring her out of sleep. Bulma sat up, but didn't turn on a light, watching his shadowed figure, silhouetted by moonlight coming in through her open curtains, approach her stealthily.
She couldn't make out his features, but she knew he'd done it. He stood straighter, and held none of the pain he'd been carrying in his shoulders.
He stopped beside the bed and looked down at her. Sensing his hesitation, Bulma slid out of bed and stood in front of him, placing a hand on his hard chest. She slid her hand up and hooked it around his neck, tugging him towards her.
"You're cold," Bulma said, surprised at the temperature of his skin. Vegeta was usually warm, running a couple of degrees hotter than humans.
He huffed in response. "Warm me up then," he whispered, his words tickling her ear.
Bulma laughed, but he smothered the sound by kissing her softly, as if savouring her taste. She kissed him back, deepening it as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body flat against his.
She ran her hands up the smooth skin of his arms, over his muscles and under the sleeves of his t-shirt. Too… many… clothes. Frustrated, Bulma pulled at the bottom of his shirt. He yanked it over his head, allowing her hands to explore the hard lines of his stomach, then he found the skinny straps of her negligee and pushed them off. It slid to the ground and he let out a small hiss as he took in her now naked body.
He tipped his head to kiss her neck, sliding one hand down her back. Bulma gasped and let her head fall back. How did he manage to make her feel like this every time?
Vegeta made a low growl and kissed her mouth again, desperately this time. That's when she realised that he'd been in the chamber since they'd last had sex. He had the willpower of a saint. The only reason Bulma hadn't been ripping his clothes off the moment he'd got back was because of his symptoms, and for her it had been less than a couple of weeks.
Bulma drew her fingers around the waistband of his pants, before finding the button at the front. She started to undo it, fumbling as he kissed her shoulder and the lower at the top of her breast. He shucked his pants and boxers at the same time, then started pushing her back towards the bed until Bulma placed her hand on his chest to stop him. Instead, she guided them both around so that his back faced the bed. With a wicked grin, Bulma shoved his chest with her hand. He could have resisted of course, but he let himself fall backwards onto the mattress.
"Tonight, it's your turn to scream my name," she whispered before climbing over him and lowering her mouth to his.
When she woke up the next morning to Trunks crying for his breakfast, Vegeta still lay in bed beside her. Last night had been incredible. With his headaches gone Vegeta had turned into an insatiable animal, waking her up twice more in the night. He'd taken the challenge of making each other scream very seriously, and she had to admit he'd won. Not that she minded.
She rolled over to look at him. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, but he didn't move until she placed a hand on his bare chest. Even then, he only tilted his head a fraction and narrowed his eyes into a glare.
Something was wrong. She'd sensed it a little last night. At times, he'd seemed almost desperate to touch her - a far cry from his usual controlled actions. She'd known he was acting unusual, but had been too caught up in lust to ask him about it.
"Are you okay?" Bulma asked, curling her hand on his chest.
Vegeta's gazed hardened even more. "I'm fine," he said gruffly. "The brat is crying."
"I can hear that."
"Go shut him up," Vegeta growled.
"You go do it," Bulma snapped. What the hell had gotten into him this morning?
Vegeta snorted. "Do you want the kid to cry even louder?"
Bulma rolled her eyes and dragged herself out of bed. She threw a backwards glance at Vegeta before she left the room, but he'd gone back to staring at the roof again.
"I need your blood after breakfast," she said.
Vegeta didn't move. With a sigh, Bulma went to fetch Trunks. Sometimes it was like she had two children living in this house.
It had been three days and the after effects of the bloodlust kill lingered on. 'Melancholy', the scientists called it. Vegeta thought the feeling of being sucked into an empty pit of nothing was a more apt description.
He knew Bulma was concerned - she showed it in every soft look, every gentle touch - but she was too preoccupied with finding a cure to press him, and he'd successfully managed to avoid her most of the time.
He'd tried to get rid of it with sex. It worked temporarily, but afterwards the feelings - or rather, the complete lack of them - came crashing back, worse than before.
Vegeta lay in his bed, staring at the white ceiling. He'd got his room back to the clean, tidy order he preferred, but that only reminded him that he had nothing to do but wait until Bulma figured out a cure. There was no 'if' about it. She would find one, Vegeta was sure.
He was less sure about what he would do after. With nothing to train for, and no bloodlust to worry about for at least a few weeks, there was nothing to occupy him but his thoughts, and they hovered on the same thing they'd been on since he came back to Earth. Stay, or go?
He'd wait until Bulma cured his bloodlust to leave, if that is what he decided. Traveling for months in space didn't cater well to his symptoms. Without the bloodlust, he'd be free to do whatever he wanted in the deep reaches of space. He'd be free to choose.
The problem was, he didn't know what he wanted. Should he stay and protect his family? He'd never had one of those before. If he stayed he could be sure any unknown threats to them were taken care of. But he couldn't guarantee that one day he wouldn't be the threat. Which lead to his next choice. Leave.
Vegeta sighed up at the roof, which was refusing to offer up any suggestions. Without a purpose or a goal, he felt adrift. So, he stayed where he was, as still as he could, in the hopes he'd begin to feel steady again.
Bulma peered at the blood sample under the microscope, then swapped it out with the other one. There were clear differences between the sample she'd taken while Vegeta showed symptoms, and the sample she'd taken after, but identifying exactly what the differences meant, or how to reverse them was another challenge.
If only Goku were here. She could take his blood and compare it with Vegeta's to see if that held a clue. Of course, even if Goku were alive she'd have needed to knock him out to get the blood. There was no way Goku would voluntarily let her stick him with a needle.
Bulma pushed back the microscope with a sigh. This could take longer than she'd hoped.
The door to her lab swished open and Bulma glanced up. Gohan walked in, his hands in his pockets.
"Sorry to bother you while you are working," he said, polite as always.
"You are welcome here any time, Gohan!" Bulma spun her chair to face him and gave him a smile. "How are you doing?"
Gohan shrugged and looked at the ground. "Okay I guess…" he scuffed the floor with the tow of his shoe. "Do you think Vegeta would spar with me?"
"Vegeta?" Bulma leaned back in her chair. "Maybe. He hasn't done any training since…" She pressed her lips together. Since when Cell was defeated? Since Goku died? Since he saw him son get killed before him? Bulma hadn't figured out exactly what Vegeta's reasons for stopping training were, especially now that his symptoms were gone.
"Piccolo won't spar with me," Gohan said, sounding a little sulky. "He says I'm too 'volatile'." He rolled his eyes at that. "And Mom barely lets me leave the house. I had to say I needed to go to the library to escape."
"I see…" Bulma tapped her chin and grinned. "You know, Capsule Corp has a great library. Vegeta reads more than anyone I've met and he hasn't complained about the selection once."
Gohan scowled. "I don't want to read. I want to…"
"Beat the crap out of someone?" Bulma laughed at Gohan's shocked expression. "Your mother doesn't need to know that. Go ask Vegeta to spar, and if he won't, just hit him. It might do him some good." She took in Gohan's pale complexion. "And maybe it will do you some good too."
Gohan let out a small laugh. "Thanks, I'll go talk to him."
"Don't kill Vegeta please," Bulma said, digging into her pocket for her phone. "Feel free to knock him around a bit though, he's being a jerk as usual. I'll call your mom and let her know you are staying for dinner and the night to work on a project, okay?"
"The night?" Gohan looked confused.
Bulma chuckled. "You might be the strongest person on Earth, but Vegeta has barely come out of his room for three days which means he's in a mood, so if you tangle with him you are going to get a few bruises your mom doesn't need to see."
Gohan grinned at that.
"Be back for dinner!" She called out as Gohan ran out of the room. Shaking her head, she dialled Chi Chi's number.
Gohan trekked through the hallways of Capsule Corp, using Vegeta's ki as a guide. He stopped outside a door and knocked, sensing Vegeta in the room behind it. He felt Vegeta's ki flare in reply, but got no verbal response.
Hesitantly, Gohan turned the handle and pushed open the door, revealing a tidy bedroom, decorated in simply whites and greys. Vegeta sat on a bed cross legged, his eyes closed and hands resting on his knees. He didn't move when Gohan stepped in, and it barely looked like he was even breathing.
"Vegeta?" Gohan's voice came out in a squeak. He cleared his throat before continuing. "Did you want to spar?"
Vegeta cracked an eye open, but didn't reply.
"Last time I sparred with Picollo I hurt him, and I really need to spar with someone more my strength," Gohan said, the words tumbling out of his mouth in his eagerness. "I'm going crazy at home. It's like after the fight with Cell, everything feels…" He trailed off at Vegeta's lack of response.
The older Saiyan had opened both eyes and focussed them on Gohan, but his lips remained pressed together in tight lines.
Gohan stood awkwardly in the doorway, flushing under Vegeta's hard glare.
"Very well." Vegeta slowly uncrossed his legs then stood up. "Have you used altered gravity before?"
Gohan couldn't help grinning. "Only the ten times gravity in the time chamber."
"Five minutes," Vegeta said, by way of instruction.
Gohan nodded and left the room, practically skipping all the way the gravity chamber on Capsule Corp's front lawn. Finally, a real fight!
Gohan screamed in frustration and fired a ki blast at Vegeta. The man dodged it with relative ease, while Gohan struggled to breath under the weight of fifty times Earth's gravity. Had this been the Saiyan Prince's training regime before Cell? The man was insane! But a more than worthwhile opponent, Gohan admitted to himself, gritting his teeth while attacking Vegeta again.
During the battle with Cell Gohan had surpassed Vegeta in pure strength thanks to his anguish at losing his father, but here, in this room, Vegeta had the upper hand. The extra gravity didn't faze him at all. He'd even gone as far as calling the level 'pitiful'.
Vegeta attacked back, throwing a heavy punch, then surprising Gohan with a low kick that knocked him off balance. Gohan landed on his back with a gasp.
"For someone who hasn't trained in a few weeks, you are doing much better than me," Gohan groaned.
"Your strength is fuel by passion, not technique," Vegeta replied. "You don't have anything to fight for, and your technique is appalling. It is clear that my assumption that my son got his bad habits off you was correct."
"But I've never trained with Trunks! Oh…" Gohan flushed at how slow he'd caught on. "You mean future me."
Vegeta replied with a ki blast that forced Gohan to roll to dodge it. They continued fighting, Vegeta pointing out every little thing Gohan did wrong.
"You favour your right side," Vegeta said, slamming his clenched fist into Gohan's left side, sending him crashing backwards. "An opponent should never be able to tell if you are left or right handed. I thought you'd developed bad habits fighting the androids by yourself, but Kakarot must have been a poor teacher in the time chamber because your technique was acceptable when the Namekian had been your trainer."
"My dad trained me fine!" Gohan took a swing at Vegeta colliding with the man's jaw and knocking him to the side.
Vegeta touched his jaw and chuckled. "Kakarot trained you poorly, then left you here to defend Earth, without the techniques required to do it. He half trained you, giving you the strength to go into battle without the skills to survive."
Gohan clenched his fists, shaking in an effort not to rush at Vegeta.
"You got lucky with Cell, but your father can't die again for you to find your strength," Vegeta continued. "He took care of that by refusing to return." Vegeta smirked, his eyes flashing. "By abandoning you."
Gohan's ki erupted, writhing around him in golden waves. "Don't talk about my dad like that!" He flew at Vegeta, sending him an onslaught of ki blasts, followed by a flurry of punches and kicks that backed the older Saiyan against the wall.
Vegeta took each hit with barely a sound, barely retaliating. Even through his rage Gohan knew he should stop, knew that if he really wanted to, he could kill Vegeta. He knew that for whatever reason, Vegeta had purposefully goaded him and now wasn't defending himself like he should be. But Gohan couldn't stop. He drew back to the other side of the room to power up, unable to resist sending a blast that burst from his hands, aimed directly for Vegeta's heart.
Once he released it, Gohan wanted to take it back. His blast was a kill shot, not a sparring one. Time slowed for Gohan, but he was unable to move from his position, rooted to the gravity room's floor.
Vegeta's expression remained unreadable, and his arms didn't go up to block it. He didn't move a muscle, just stared at the blast with unblinking eyes. He's not going to dodge, Gohan realised with growing horror.
Then Vegeta's hair faded from gold to black as he powered out of his Super Saiyan form.
He was going to let the blast kill him.
A/N: Sorry it took me a few days longer than usual to get this chapter up. I skipped ahead to write the final scene (the end is nigh!) to ensure the rest of what I write flows nicely into it, and got a little caught up in it. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter... I'll try not to keep you all waiting too long before continuing on from this cliffhanger!
