Rights: All rights belong to Akira Toriyama, Toyotarou and Toei Animation

This is based on the manga cannon, so there may be some discrepancies with the anime.

WARNINGS: This story is very, very dark, with a large amount of violence, gore, and sexual references, including references to non-consensual sex.

Even though Trunks' words stayed with her for hours, accusing her of overlooking her husband's troubles while focusing on his mistakes, it was not her who made the first move at the dinner table that night. She had been hesitant, looking up at her husband, then looking away, biting her lip and avoiding her son's eyes. To her surprise, Vegeta had volunteered to feed Bra, sacrificing a quick meal and the opportunity to avoid her as soon as possible. No, despite the words she had launched at him the last time they had spoken, he wanted to try again.

Of course he did.

He loved her.

It was only after completing his task that he decided to try once more at breaking the ice. But not by engaging her directly. No, he was being sneaky.

"Say, Trunks," he began, voice attempting to be light, "Do you have much homework to do tomorrow?"

The next day was the weekend, Bulma realised. How had her husband managed to keep track when she hadn't?

"Nah, I did it all this afternoon."

"My, that was conscientious of you," he acknowledged, "It's a good thing, too, because I have a proposition for you."

"What is it?" Trunks' eyes narrowed.

"It's been a while since we did anything as a family. Since I can't train at the moment, I thought we might have a family game of Monopoly, with your mother and your grandparents."

"That sounds wonderful!" Panchy tittered, having been on edge about the family's tension.

Vegeta, Bulma thought, flabbergasted. Vegeta wanted to play a family game of monopoly? Colour her incredulous but she couldn't believe it. The things she had been forced to do to get him to acquiesce to such a long board game in the past. He had only recently started playing with them on his own initiative, and never anything so long as Monopoly.

No matter the fact that he absolutely slaughtered everyone at it.

But victory in such a leisure activity held no lauds for him; no, only triumph on the battlefield would be satisfactory, so he had never boasted about his skills.

Even so.

"Monopoly?!" Trunks whined, "You always beat us!"

"Would you rather we play scrabble?"

"What?! No! Half the words you use don't even exist!"

"I assure you that they do, but if you are so insistent, then how about Pictionary?"

Trunks made a face.

"Monopoly it is!" Vegeta declared.

Bulma was glad that Trunks had declined the switch to Pictionary. She was a fantastic artist, would have stolen the win easily, but Vegeta…his pictures, and his train of thought to relate them to the word, were a nightmare to navigate. Better to be frustrated about him winning, beating them easily at the game of 'empire-building' (she had never introduced him to Risk, and wasn't going to until she learned to deal with defeat without hitting him), than to try and decipher that. Victory wasn't worth the migraine.

So Bulma selected her piece, a cruise ship which Vegeta insisted was a naval artillery vessel, and prepared herself for another slap fest. She had wanted to assault him so badly over his lying and his broken promises, but after Trunks had learned it was okay to hit people more powerful than him in an argument, and subsequently smacked his father while refusing to go to bed, Bulma had held back whenever the boy was present. She couldn't help but attack her husband with the cushions, though, whenever he won a board-game.

Vegeta frowned as Trunks chose the cannon, but not because he wanted it. He had already swiped the racehorse, of all things, but seemed disturbed at Trunks' selection. She had tried to reassure him, all those years ago, that little boys, and older boys even, harboured violent fantasies and naturally enjoyed such things. That it wasn't unusual, nor a sign of his saiyan heritage; that it wasn't the herald of his awakening instincts.

She wasn't about to repeat the reassurance now, not while she was still mad at him. He could get through this crisis on his own.

Don't you love him?

Well, she amended, Trunks' accusations repeating in her brain, she would need a little while to cool off, that was all. Then she could attend to his misgivings. But she was going to hold onto her grudges for as long as possible, thank you, especially with him playing dirty like this, inviting the whole family along in a way she couldn't object to without appearing to be a negligent mother.

Darn him.

And then they were off, Bulma's father as the banker, being a very honest sort who could be trusted to play as his dog and participate as a neutral party as well.

Vegeta had caught her trying to cheat when she had taken the role.

It was just an omen of things to come, Bulma thought, when she landed immediately on the income tax space.

In a little over two hours, Panchy and Dr Brief had been knocked out of the game, both remaining to watch its exciting conclusion, Bulma was on the ropes, and Trunks had been let off easy by his father. Vegeta owned half the board, snapping up the loser's properties after crippling them with his favourite set, the reds, which he had somehow managed to snag yet again, because Bulma hadn't the money to prevent him when she landed on Trafalgar Square early on. Royal red, befitting of his heritage, he claimed, lamenting their place on only the third side. And, of course, scarlet hotels to match.

He now had Mayfair and Park Lane as well, a death sentence Bulma had managed to avoid thus far, but it was only a matter of time. He was wearing her down with the railway stations he had amassed, Trunks having traded two in lieu of defeat.

Her only consolation was that he still struggled with some of the pronunciations, and decried Britain its 'ridiculous names'.

She was glad she owned the classic set.

Suddenly, as Bulma was enjoying her second turn in jail, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" Panchy announced, excited at the prospect of visitors.

"Gohan," Vegeta grimaced, rattling the dice in his hand, "Wonder what he wants."

"Oh, hello there young man!" Panchy crooned, voice echoing down the hall as Bulma tried to peer out. She couldn't quite manage to see them without straining her neck.

"It's so lovely to see you!" Panchy continued.

"Hi, Mrs Brief. It's wonderful to see you too," came Gohan's voice, filled with nervousness in facing the flirty woman.

Sure enough.

"You've grown so handsome! Why, I think you look even more attractive every time I see you."

"Erm, thanks, I guess. Actually, I was hoping to speak with Bulma and Vegeta."

"Of course! Of course! They're just playing a nice game of monopoly."

"Monopoly?" Gohan sounded flummoxed.

"It's a game where you try to amass great wealth and bankrupt other players," Panchy explained, the door closing as Gohan made his way inside.

"Oh, I know what it is. I just can't imagine Vegeta playing it."

"Really? But he's so terribly good at it."

"That I'd like to see."

Vegeta's face was stoic as he rolled a double six, zooming around the board with tense fingers as Gohan appeared. Vegeta very carefully did not react as he was analysed, playing a board game with his family on a Saturday morning.

"Hi guys!" Gohan greeted.

"Hello, Gohan!" Bulma gushed, while Trunks waved and Vegeta grunted. "I wasn't expecting to see you here today."

"Oh, well. I thought I'd drop by, see how you were doing," he gave Vegeta a significant look, which the saiyan missed, focusing solely on landing on…chance.

"Hmm…" he considered, picking up.

"Drat," he said, ignoring their visitor, "Building repairs."

"Ha!" Bulma exclaimed as he was forced to relinquish some of his fortune to Dr Brief, still standing in as banker despite being eliminated from the contest.

"Hey, come in," she turned to Gohan, "Take a seat. I'm just about to lose and then Vegeta can finish off Trunks."

Gohan eyed the multitude of titles neatly arranged around the prince's side of the board.

"Right," he confirmed, perching himself on the couch. "So…"

"So what?" Bulma questioned, watching Trunks land safely on Go, letting out a sigh of relief.

"So, how are you?" Gohan clarified.

"We're fine," Bulma lied easily, "Vegeta will be back to training soon and we can put this whole thing behind us."

They would not be putting this 'whole thing' behind them, despite that Bulma had allowed Vegeta to sleep in the same bed with her, although with back turned away, after Trunks' indictments. The infuriating man was still being tight-lipped, trying to gain her favour again by dispelling her worries through ruling out some allegations she had thrown his way, without telling her the real truth. For instance, he had assured her that he had not harmed their children, an important vow he had made when Trunks was a mewling baby.

But still no straight answer.

It could have been all manner of other, worrying things. And, as she had said to Trunks, even if it wasn't a serious transgression, the act of breaking the promise itself was incredibly grave, especially given the stock Vegeta placed on his word.

"Oh, sounds good," Gohan commented, fiddling with his hands.

"Say," Panchy spoke up from the doorway, "Would you like anything to drink, Gohan dear? We have juice, lemonade, but of course you're an adult now! What about some tea or coffee?"

"I'll have a tea, please. Milk, no sugar."

Panchy disappeared into the kitchen, Dr Brief asking Bulma in a low voice if he ought to leave as well, which Bulma dismissed. They probably weren't going to have any deep chats.

She hoped. She didn't want to deal with anything else right now.

"Ummm… Vegeta?" Gohan questioned, the saiyan turning his dark eyes on the younger man, making him squirm, "I…have a proposition for you."

"A proposition?" Vegeta asked, taking a token amount from Bulma for landing on a utility. She made a face at him, more playful than anything she had given him since their quarrel (darn his family-oriented strategy!), which Vegeta steadfastly ignored, focusing on Gohan, who was looking at his hands.

"Yeah. Well, you see, Bulma was telling me that you were feeling guilty for your past."

"What?!" Vegeta yelled, turning a fierce glare on Bulma, "That was confidential information!"

Gohan's shoulders found his ears as Bulma shrieked back, "You lummox! You don't get to yell at me! I needed the emotional support! You should avail yourself of it as well."

"I do not need the boy's help."

"Not necessarily Gohan, but—"

"Um…Dad?" Trunks broke in, staring at his father with wide eyes, "Why are you feeling guilty about your past? What did you used to do?"

This was met with stony silence, in which Bulma could practically hear her husband stop breathing. Trunks' questions had never been so direct, never been less dismissible when it had been clearly demonstrated by the three of them that Vegeta had indeed done something worth guilt.

"Did…did you steal something?"

Bulma nearly burst out crying and laughing simultaneously. Theft! If only it were something so simple, so forgivable as that.

"No, Trunks," Vegeta answered, Bulma wishing he had lied. He had always been quick to deceive him in the past, but perhaps he considered the boy old enough. Bulma certainly didn't, would want to keep it from him even when he was a middle aged adult visiting her in a care facility.

"I was a child soldier," Vegeta confessed, revealing only one part of the truth to his son, who was looking at him with rapt attention.

"What? Really?"

"Yes."

Gohan was inspecting his fingers as Bulma looked over at him, unable to observe husband and son at this moment of understanding, of revelation. He didn't look too happy at having precipitated this long-due discussion.

"That seems rough," Trunks tried, "So…you—"

"That is all I will say, Trunks."

"Oh, come on! You can't drop a bombshell like that and then not follow it up! You must have some juicy stories!"

Vegeta's glare was fierce enough to make Trunks drop his cannon, squirming under the steely gaze.

"None I will reveal to you. Or anyone else, for that matter," he added, turning his eye on Bulma, "Besides, this is not what we are supposed to be discussing. Gohan here had a 'proposition' for me, I believe?"

"Ah, right," Gohan scratched his nose, "Yes, yes I did. See, after hearing you were feeling guilty –"

Which earned Bulma another fierce scowl, causing her to turn away with a huff, not regretting her decision to seek assistance.

"—I started thinking of ways you might atone for your…um…past activities. As a child soldier," he looked significantly at Trunks, who was concentrating on his roll.

"I already contribute to saving the universe. Isn't that enough?" Vegeta rolled his eyes.

"For you? I don't think it is, or we wouldn't be having this problem."

"There is no problem," Vegeta objected.

"Vegeta, you waxed eloquent to me on saiyan history, if you know what I mean, and your role as a saiyan in perpetuating it. You can't say your past isn't bothering you."

"Well, so what if it is? It's only to be expected. That doesn't mean I should take action. These feelings will fade with time."

"What if I could get them to fade faster?"

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at his unwanted guest, "I'm listening."

"I think the problem with your atonement is having a personal connection. You have, as you say, helped save the universe and planet Earth on more than one occasion. That's billions upon billions of lives. But it hasn't really helped you with this, helped you feel like your life has meaning, has purpose."

"Of course my life has purpose!"

"Being the strongest?"

"That is correct."

"Well, leaving that aside," because there was a can of worms involving saiyan fealty and pride that Gohan obviously did not want to touch, and Bulma certainly did not want disturbed, "Don't you want to do something more? Be something more? Don't you want to atone for your actions? You can be a better man, Vegeta, a much better man, if you'd just hear me out."

Vegeta scowled at him, grating out, "Just get to the point," probably incensed by being called a 'man', since, technically he was an a'hij, a saiyan male, although it always translated as 'man' when he spoke.

That really annoyed him.

"I was wondering if you might consider…healing people. You know how to do that now, right?" he continued, babbling as Vegeta simply stared at him as if he had grown a second head, "I mean, you did say so, and I thought, you know…it would be a good opportunity for you to expiate your sins and ah, you wouldn't have to do it all the time, just, like maybe the weekends so you could still train and—"

"Gohan," Vegeta finally interrupted, growing tired of the prattle, his voice deep and grave, scowl plastered on his face in his most serious expression, "Your suggestion is insulting."

"Insulting?"

"Yes. To recommend that I, Vegeta IV, Prince of All Saiyans and heir to the throne of the saiyan empire, lower myself to performing the task of medical personnel."

He frowned.

"Not that there is anything inherently degrading about such work, but it is not my role. Not to mention that my father would be ashamed to hear of my becoming 'employed' on this backwater planet. Enough that I have married a human, have sired two hybrids. This?" he shook his head, "I would lose any respect my ancestors still had in me."

"You wouldn't need to be employed by the hospital, Vegeta. Just visit, like a…I don't know, Radio Lollipop?"

"That sounds even more debasing than wearing those hideous uniforms your doctors parade around in. Why would I dress up as a sound-waves deciphering instrument and a type of confectionary?"

"It's a charity, Vegeta," Bulma sighed, rubbing her forehead, "And would you at least give this a little more thought? I think it's a great idea!"

"You were the one who admitted to me, after I decried finding paid employment when it would be so unnecessary for our financial standing, that I would not be able to participate fully in the life of this planet, given my lack of documentation. Surely the good people at these hospitals would not allow admission to someone who does not legally exist."

"Vegeta, I'm sure I can falsify some documents, not that I recommend the practice, of course," she added, an eye on Trunks, who did not seem to be following the conversation in favour of playing with his cannon, "If you want to do this, I'll sort something out. And I'll support it 100%. At least think about it," she urged, "You've been down in the dumps lately. This could be just what you need."

"A prince does not serve, he is served," Vegeta protested, "I know my position means nothing to the rest of you. No people, no empire, no property, my title is merely that, and even then it is not used. But it has meaning to me. Meaning I cannot simply discard to fulfil your fantasies."

"Honey," Bulma begged, "At least sleep on it."

He frowned, "Are you kicking me out of bed again?"

"What? Surely you've heard the phrase?" but he continued to look at her blankly.

"It means to delay your decision until after a night of sleep," Gohan explained helpfully.

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at the pair of them, considering them as he folded his arms.

"Very well."