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.

As Bulma turned into the corridor leading to Ternyp's room, she thought about her morning. After such a debilitating nightmare she was irritated that Vegeta had not returned for breakfast. Following her conversation with Merus she had taken her laptop to the kitchen to wait for him, in case he showed up early to avoid Beerus. But he never appeared. Instead, she had finished her aeroplane motor design, and then left with a plate of toast as Beerus entered in search of his first meal of the day. Thankfully her mother had hustled everyone out of the smaller space in favour of the outdoor setting, so Bulma was able to return to her seat away from the disturbing presence. She could still hear his voice, though, even if she couldn't make out what he was saying, and it made her shudder.

Distracting Panchy from her mood, Bulma had raised the issue of Ternyp's arrival, highlighting Beerus' capricious nature and how he might insist on a transfer at any moment. Her mother had lamented the condition of 'that poor thing', and had hastily offered the former sewing room, thinking it ideal for a convalescing saiyan, confirming Bulma's opinion. Panchy had also expressed her wish for a quick recovery, and an introduction, commenting again that he must be quite dashing, since all the saiyans she had met were.

Ignoring this, Bulma had finished up, placed her dishes beside the sink and left in search of her children. Dr Brief was feeding a wailing Bra outside, who was shrieking to the skies for her "Da!", prompting Beerus to ask where said father was hiding. Fortunately, Bulma had been able to answer truthfully that she did not know for certain, given he was usually home from North City at this time, as she wrapped her arms around the screaming tot. Giving her a raspberry on her cheek and a kiss on the top of her head, Bulma said her goodbyes to Trunks, hidden behind a mountain of food, and set off in search of Ternyp. Hopefully she would be able to work in his presence during the morning, before returning for lunch and spending some time with Trunks during Bra's story-time. The pair of them deserved some more bonding time with their mother, and she also had to deliver the gifts. Trunks would be first, then Bra after her nap.

Fortunately, Bulma easily recalled the path she needed thanks to her excellent memory, and soon entered Ternyp's room, refusing to acknowledge the sentry by the open window. Bird calls could be heard outside, mixing with the constant blip of various machines as Ternyp slept. And he had to be asleep, with such a lax heart rate.

She stood still for a moment, taking him in, analysing his condition. An oxygen mask rested on his face, fogging up with his even exhalations. He was covered in fresh bandages and patches where Beerus had scratched him, and his arms had new casts, as well as a fresh IV-line. By his head, the heart monitor had returned, small mountains running along the screen as signals reached it. On the opposite side, the clear, monochrome picture of his heart beat steadily. His torso was mostly uncovered, patches chosen in favour of bandages for ease of access. Electrodes rested at various points, moving with his breath, and she could see the transparent film buzzing gently as his heart worked. A tube attached to a bag fed into his stomach, various other wires and pipes resting on or disappearing into his abdomen, performing who knew what function. The cage once again concealed everything from the hips down, blanket covering its metal structure.

"Good morning, Ternyp," she greeted the sleeping man, steadfastly ignoring Whis as she took the vacant seat, her table-chair having disappeared in the interim. For the sake of her posture she wheeled over the trestle table, adjusting it downwards and placing her laptop on it, eyeing the jug of water and wondering whether the saiyan god was even capable of consuming any. He was clearly being fed through a peg, viscus liquid slowly oozing into the stomach, hopefully having a higher nutritional basis than that used for humans.

Surely Dr Green would have informed them about that.

Letting the gentle beeps and breaths settle into the background, Bulma began from scratch a new idea she had thought of while waiting for sleep.

A mechanical heart.

Wonder where that idea had come from.

Not that she was a medical expert, and was having to do some in-depth research in an area that was certainly not her field, but she thought she would make a good attempt at it. At least an outline that her medical branch would be able to work with. The key issue would be getting it to move with signals from the brain. If she could crack that, a whole host of other uses would open up, including robotic limbs. She knew it was possible; Dr Gero had obviously managed the flesh-machine combination, but he had not shared his insights with the world, choosing to use his knowledge to create monsters to suit his own desires rather than pursuing the betterment of society.

He gave scientists a bad name.

An hour ticked by and then some as she lost herself to her work, forgetting about the principle-less Whis, the slumbering Ternyp, the episode with Beerus. Everything.

Until an alarm sounded.

Listening to it blare, assaulting her eardrums, Bulma rocketed to her feet, pushing the trestle table aside and hurrying to the bed. Crinkling the starched sheets was a moving Ternyp, not writhing, not struggling, but stirring slightly, hands clenching and unclenching in spite of his broken finger. His limbs wriggled, head turning faintly, breath coming in rapid puffs. On screen, the depiction of his heart raced, and the numbers denoting its rate turned red.

104.

Vegeta's resting conscious rate was 65, falling to 50 when he slept.

The door banged open, a nurse and a doctor, who she faintly recognised but did not know the name of, rushing in.

"Excuse me, ma'am," the doctor said, Bulma hurrying to the side as the medical personnel gathered around the bed.

"His heart shouldn't be going above 70 beats per minute," the doctor warned, gently slapping Ternyp's sweaty cheek.

"See if you can wake him," he instructed, inserting the stethoscope into his ears and leaning over, eyes on the digitised heart as he listened.

"Ternyp! You need to wake up, love!" the nurse, a lady likely in her fifties, called out, tapping the side of his face. Ternyp squirmed away from the hand but showed no signs of waking as the doctor moved his stethoscope into a new position, making a thoughtful noise.

"Ternyp!" gingerly, the nurse reached down to brush her hand against his bandaged shoulder, "Come on, love! Wake up!"

Defying his weakness and injuries, Ternyp reached out, disturbing the IV-line as his arm shook, struggling to rise. His heart rate climbed to 120 as he kicked, ratting the cage hiding his lower half.

Then he screamed, fear-filled voice penetrating through the oxygen mask as he revealed his distress. His movements evolved from slight wriggling to advanced writhing.

"Oh dear," the doctor commented, retreating from a flailing limb.

"Ternyp!" Bulma cried, "Wake up!"

He gave a great gasp, catapulting upright in direct challenge to his internal injuries. His finally opened eyes widened as he cried, arms wrapping around his mid-section, before he collapsed back onto the bed. A low groan escaped his lips as his eyes scrunched shut.

"Excuse me, Ternyp," the doctor returned to his bedside, "I need to examine you."

He tapped the arms constricting his patient's abdomen, instructing, "You need to move these."

Ternyp let out a heavy breath, shivering as he released his vice grip, hands shuddering back to his sides.

"Thank you," the doctor leant back over the saiyan, listening to his stomach intently. He placed an experimental hand on bruised flesh, giving short massages of various points as Ternyp gasped for pain.

"Sorry about that," the doctor apologised, "I just needed to make sure you hadn't ruptured anything. It seems fine, a little sore still of course but nothing to concern yourself with."

Ternyp sighed, closing his eyes, taking deep, measured breaths.

"I know you probably don't want to hear it after a nightmare, but you really do need to go back to sleep, Ternyp. You need all the rest you can get. I would give you something to help you drift off but you don't seem to respond to most of our medicine."

Ternyp gave the man a slow blink, before looking back at the ceiling.

The doctor gave his shoulder a gentle pat, apologising as Ternyp grimaced, before leaving with the nurse.

'Alone' again, since she was discounting Whis' presence, Bulma approached the bed, listening to the soft rush of air from the oxygen mask, his laboured breathing, the even bleeps of the heart monitor.

"Hey," she greeted, looking down at him, wondering if there was anywhere she could safely touch in her bid to comfort him.

"Hey, it's Bulma, if you remember."

He made a sound into his mask, arm shuddering upwards, before flopping back on the bed. Giving her a long look, he moved his eyes to the obstruction over his mouth, then back again.

"You want me to move that?"

Ternyp gave a slight nod.

"Are you sure? Can you breathe okay without it?"

The saiyan gave a little shrug, not reassuring her in the slightest, but he seemed rather intent on speaking, so she decided to help him in his quest.

"Alright. But not for long, okay? And then you're to go back to sleep."

He glowered, but did not object to her commands, merely down looking at the mask.

Finding the clasp behind it, she pulled it down over his throat, the effort of his respiration growing in volume without anything to muffle it.

"Are you…? No, you're not okay, that's a stupid question. But are you feeling a little better?"

"Not…particularly," he whispered, voice lethargic.

"Oh. But at least you're talking, now. That must be good. And you don't have to rely on the machines to breathe."

He frowned a little, "I didn't have to…exert myself for that…same function, either."

"You're so verbose. Is that a trait of all saiyan elites?"

"Yes. We have a reputation…to uphold."

His eyes wandered over to the window, whites showing underneath as he struggled to look.

"Still here," he muttered, referring to Whis.

Then he gave a heavy swallow.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"What about?"

"What you saw…yesterday."

Why was everyone apologising to her about that? Even the victim himself!

"That wasn't your fault."

"Nevertheless, you shouldn't have had…to witness that."

"Ternyp? Um…" how could she break this to him? "About your recovery…you see, Beerus wants you to come to my place as soon as you're able to. We have a medical team and some equipment to help you the rest of the way. But…Beerus is living with me at the moment."

Ternyp did not react, simply stared at her with a grave expression.

"You expected as much, huh? I think he wants you where he can check up on you. That's why Whis is here, after all. 'Keep your enemies closer' and all that."

Ternyp gave a solemn nod.

Throwing caution to the wind, Bulma decided to see if she could satisfy her curiosity.

"Say, would you tell me what your nightmare was about?"

He gave her a slow blink, before answering unexpectedly just as she prepared for disappointment.

"Beerus," was his reply.

"Oh," she could certainly understand that, could relate, even, given her own morning, "That must have been awful. And I can't even say he won't hurt you anymore, because I think he still has unfinished business with you."

"That is…likely," he drew a deep, shaky breath, "But I do not want to see you distressed by it."

He was giving her the same serious look her husband had worn the night before.

"I can't help that," she whispered, "I can't help how I feel about it. How can anyone not be affected by something like that?"

"If he returns…you must leave."

"Leave you?" she gasped, "No, I couldn't possibly do that. He won't chase me out! You should have someone sympathetic to argue your cause, to comfort you, to protest or just to bare witness."

"Bulma…"

"And if I hadn't been there yesterday, he wouldn't have noticed you weren't breathing, not that he helped you at all."

Ternyp blinked at her again, twice, as if he hadn't understood her, before his eyes drooped.

"Ternyp?" she asked, leaning over as his laboured breathing began to slow, along with the gentle bleeps of the heart monitor.

"Ternyp?" she repeated, watching his hand twitch upwards, before his eyes closed altogether, heart decelerating to an unconscious rate.

"Oh," she whispered, tenderly tracing his forehead, "Sleep well."

"I would recommend replacing his oxygen mask," Whis' voice from the window startled her. She hadn't expected him to spare a thought for Ternyp's wellbeing, certainly not enough to remind her of that vital consideration.

Gently clipping the mask over his mouth and nose, Bulma gave Whis a nod, beginning to pack up her things. She wasn't going to spend as much time in the room today, given her family obligations.

And she wanted to catch Vegeta, to make sure he was okay.

"Is he ready for transfer?"

Bulma jumped at the question, fork poised half-way to her mouth as she considered Beerus' words. He was at the opposite end of the table, as far from Bulma as she could manage, and she hadn't thought he had noticed her. Or her absence. But he could sense energy, so he had to know she had been in proximity to Ternyp, or Whis at the very least, given the latter had only been conscious for a few minutes.

"I'm sorry?" she queried, returning the pasta to her plate so she could concentrate on the unanticipated conversation.

"Gemuse," Beerus elaborated, taking another spoonful of cheese-bake. It was the right weather for something hot, cool wind blowing through their little gathering around the outside setting.

"Is he ready to be transferred here?" Beerus continued, looking her dead in the eye with an expression of distaste which had nothing to do with her mother's cooking.

"Transferred? Are you crazy?" she determinedly did not whither under his glower, "After what you did to him yesterday, he's lucky to still be alive! I can't see him coming out of the ICU anytime soon."

"The what?"

"Umm…Intensive Care Unit. Dr Green says he needs to be ready to be relocated from there, and then some, before she'll clear him to come here."

"Hmph. I want him here where I can see him as soon as possible."

"You can just sense him," Bulma pointed her knife at the deity in emphasis, "Can't you?"

"It is possible for an individual to conceal their energy, much like your husband has been doing lately," Beerus narrowed his eyes, "but I know he, at least, is always going to return here for you. Gemuse…is a wild card. He might gather the strength to heal himself at any moment, and I still haven't settled matters with him."

Bulma shuddered as she wondered what that might entail.

"I forgot to ask him about his plans, not that I can really trust what he would tell me. Not without a surge of pain. That seems to be the ticket."

"You're revolting," she criticised, to which Beerus merely shrugged.

"No one ever said the Gods of Destruction were kind people," he dismissed, "But I'm a philanthropist compared to him. Nothing I could possibly do to him would come close to the pain he has inflicted on others."

"So you think that gives you an excuse to hurt him? Even though he's been re-incarnated since?"

"You and I both disagree on that point. He still has the same soul, and therefore I consider him just as responsible."

"I'm surprised you're not there right now, then, taking your frustrations out on him."

Merus balked, putting his hands up in an urgent, quelling gesture. But it was too late.

"That's my afternoon plans. There's no point in going while he's asleep. I can't hurt him then."

Bulma knew that he still could harm Ternyp while he slept, memories haunting him in the form of nightmares. But Beerus didn't need to know that.

She gave a long sigh, understanding her own helplessness, the futility of her objections. Picking at her food, taking another helping of salad under her mother's concerned gaze, she tried to swallow the meat which had long since cooled, smothering it in tomato sauce to disguise the cold flavour. Meanwhile Trunks disappeared after his fourth helping, tearing off to finish his game, paused mid-boss fight at Bulma's insistence. Dr Brief played with Bra as she cried out for her father, late for another story-time, and Panchy began to clear the table. As Beerus leant back, patting his full belly, he suddenly looked up, glaring into the distance.

Following his gaze, Bulma saw a figure on the horizon, resolving into her husband as he approached. Touching down on the grass, he stalked towards the table, meeting Beerus' eyes with a determined look.

"Hello, Vegeta," Beerus commented, picking at his teeth, "We were just wondering where you were."

Bulma breathed a sigh of relief as she took in his appearance, noting his clean, intact breastplate, his strong stance. She tried to replace the memory of her nightmare with this image of him, resilient and whole as he glared at Beerus.

"Da! Da!"

"Yes, little Bra's father has arrived, begging the question of where he has been all morning."

"That's none of your business," Vegeta glowered, posture rigid and arms folded, forbidding discussion.

"No? Not spending the morning in the company of your 'best buddy' Gemuse?"

"'best buddy'?" he shook his head, "No, I only made a quick visit."

"So you have seen him, then?"

"Yes," Vegeta gave Beerus a sideways look.

"And how is the fiend?"

"Weak, which I'm sure you'll be happy to hear."

"Excellent. You see, Vegeta, I'm very pleased you came because I actually need to speak with you."

"What about?" Vegeta asked, instantly suspicious.

"Oh, nothing serious, so long as Gemuse behaves. He told me that the two of you are close. He cares about you. As such, you are to be my insurance for his good conduct."

"I see," Vegeta sighed.

"Good to hear that you understand. I should emphasise to him the importance of your safety, for your family's sakes," Beerus looked sideways at Bra, who reached up, calling "Beer!" enthusiastically.

Vegeta hurdled the wide table, placing himself between deity and child, arms outstretched, face set as his shoulders moved with fast breaths.

"Oh, Vegeta, so quick to judge," Beerus commented, climbing to his feet, "As if I would harm the little thing."

Shrugging, Beerus dismissed himself, complimenting Panchy on her wonderful cooking as he disappeared into the room he had appropriated. The room with the ensuite that she would have preferred to give to Merus, considering his sympathy towards the suffering Ternyp.

Vegeta remained in place, standing sentry before Bra, who called out excitedly for him, until Beerus closed the door behind him, and he let out a long blast of air. Turning to Bulma, he swiped up his daughter, cradling her close as he contemplated his wife.

"We're fine, Vegeta," she reassured him as Dr Brief followed his most violent guest inside, "Really, he hasn't done anything to us."

"That doesn't mean he won't," Vegeta pointed out, one hand smoothing Bra's hair as she complained "Da! Rea! Da!"

"Aww…someone wants you," she tickled Bra's chin, much to her holder's consternation.

"Bulma," he intoned.

"I know, honey. But we'll be fine."

"Promise me you'll be careful around him. No slapping episodes, or the like," he warned.

"I'm not mad, Vegeta. Credit me with some sense. But I can't promise you that I won't stand up to him. I just can't. Not after what he did to you, what he did to Ternyp. If I find a way to get him back, I'll take it, you can be sure of that."

"Bulma…"

"Hey, you married me for my fiery nature, didn't you? I know you're concerned, but I won't surrender who I am for his sake."

"I understand," he sighed, "Just…be careful."

"I am the definition of careful."

"You are not!" he protested, jiggling Bra in his arms as she squealed with delight.

"Anyway," he segued, "I'd better take this one inside. It'll have to be just quick story, today, since she's late for her nap."

"And whose fault is that?" Bulma accused, "Where were you, anyway?"

"Out," he answered vaguely, closing the subject as he made his way inside, daughter secure in his arms, Bulma frowning at him long after he disappeared from view. For the first time in a while a sliver of suspicion wormed its way into her chest, unable to be dismissed as she wrote down another dot point in her mind.

It was not fifteen minutes later when Bulma was disturbed by something quite common, and yet electrifying at the same time.

Bra's screams.

Bolting out of her seat, leaving her computer on and unprotected, Bulma rushed out of her home office/laboratory, accidentally knocking a screwdriver from the bench as she bumped into it in her haste. Taking the stairs two at a time, Bulma's breath came in rapidly, heart pounding as her legs protested from the exertion.

She should really do more exercise. She ought to be prepared to race up two flights of stairs given the history of her family. There was bound to be another emergency. Hastening down the hallway, Bulma skidded to a halt before Bra's door, rattling the knob as her sweaty hands fiddled with it.

Finally managing to wrench the door open, tumbling into the room, Bulma took in the scene of her daughter's distress. Bra was on her back at the foot of the arm chair, wailing as she flailed her arms and legs, tears coating her red cheeks.

"Oh, honey," Bulma crooned as she approached, observing the book by her side, the new one Bulma had purchased just the day before, open, covers face up as if it had fallen. Vegeta was nowhere to be seen, but the windows were closed.

The door had been shut.

Of course, he could have closed both when he left but…he wouldn't leave Bra on the floor like that.

Would he?

"Vegeta?" she whispered, moving down to scoop up her anguished daughter, fondling her head and blowing kisses into her hair.

"Where has your father gone?" she asked the little one, who responded with a miserable, "Da! Go! Da!"

"Vegeta…" such behaviour, abandoning his own child like this, was extremely out of character. But there were no signs of a struggle. No signs that anything untoward had happened. It was as if Vegeta had vanished into thin air.

But where would he have gone?