Summary: Vegeta and Bulma are faced with multiple fights.

She definitely knows this moron.

Vegeta's coughing picked up as his speed increased. He didn't care. Maybe his presence would be enough to bring this unmistakably plastered dolt to his senses. The noise stopped the argument, causing Raditz to veer around. Bulma tried to escape, but he caught her arm, pinning her beside him. Cherry lip gloss stained the corners of her mouth and chin, the aftermath of her ex-husband's unwanted attempts to kiss her.

Raditz grinned. "Where are you going so fast, love?"

"Let go of me," Bulma whispered heatedly. "You're making a fool of yourself." Not only was she appalled and humiliated by Raditz's behavior, but also scared for Vegeta. He didn't look or sound right. Yet, at the same time, he gave off no sense of hesitation or fear - just rising contempt for the man in front of him.

Raditz may have been stinking drunk, but he sensed a whiff of desperation in Bulma's rebuke. "So you know that elf? Saw him in the lobby earlier. Sounds like he has tuberculosis. Maybe worse."

Vegeta wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, glaring at Raditz. "Bulma, you OK?"

Bulma nodded carefully as Raditz's clutch tightened. Involving Vegeta was the last thing she wanted. All three had professional reputations to maintain. She secretly sent Goku an emergency text soon after Raditz entrapped her in the nook, hoping he could bring Raditz to his senses. She didn't know of her ex's trick to make Goku leave the hotel. This act of emotional violence had the potential to severely damage the brothers' already contentious relationship.

"Yes. My ex-husband and I are resolving some differences."

"I see." Vegeta's eyes searched Raditz's build for signs of a weapon. The hotel had suitable security, including hidden metal and imaging detectors built into door frames, but he didn't take anything for granted.

"Yeah," Raditz sneered. "This is a private matter, fella, and it sounds like you should attend to that flu. My wife and I are both doctors, you know, and that's our prescription."

"Babe, stop this," Bulma said, softening her tone. "It's been hard for us, but -"

"Apparently not for you!" Raditz said sharply. "I…I…just wanted us to talk, you know?"

Vegeta's jaw clamped after he spotted bruises on Bulma's shoulder and lower arm. The rogue manhandled her already. That did it.

"I've had enough of this crap, let her go now and leave," he demanded.

Raditz laughed, delighting in his own theatrical behavior. "Make me, Mighty Mouse."

"Bulma, go now!"

Bulma stomped on Raditz's foot, grinding her heel into it. He yelped, trying to catch her back leg before she kneed him in the groin. Vegeta rushed in, abruptly striking the man's neck and chin with an upward inner-arm, throwing him on the floor and busting his lip. Raditz rolled over face down, taking a swift kick in the kidney before Vegeta sat on his spine. He pulled Raditz's arm back, holding down his shoulder.

"Since you like to trap people, this little fella is returning the favor," he said with almost chilling calmness. "How does it feel to be on the other side, clown? Fools… like…like… you are all the same."

Vegeta felt shaky, but he was determined to keep Raditz subdued, even if he had to knock the man unconscious. The stakes were high. Using more force could get him arrested too. But Bulma now had physical proof that Raditz assaulted her. Vegeta could testify in court, if things got that far, and avoid getting an assault charge himself.

Raditz, whose drunkenness didn't help his coordination, moaned and cursed as Vegeta further twisted his arm. By then, hotel security and Vegeta's personal security detail had arrived, followed by a dismayed Goku. Bulma's makeup was streaked from tears, while his employer, the head of a Fortune 500 company, had his brother pinned to floor like a wild animal. Relieved to get help, a wheezing Vegeta slumped backward, allowing the guards to take over. Even they were stunned - and impressed - at how well the big boss neutralized the threat.

Vegeta remained furious, but the adrenaline rush that sustained him through that brawl was wearing off. Worried, Bulma sat on her knees as his coughing and wheezing increased. She took his hand, which at first he resisted. He didn't want her to feel obligated.

"Stop fighting me right now, Vegeta," she ordered. "You could have been badly injured, and you're obviously sick. Look in my eyes. Mouth closed. Breathe in gradually through your nose. Purse your lips. Now breathe between them. Keep it slow. One, two, three, four."

As if she couldn't have been harmed herself, Vegeta thought. Had Raditz abused her before? The thought enraged him. Neither he nor his ex-wife ever raised an angry hand to each other, even during their most severe, soul-damaging arguments.

Raditz's mute glower damned them all. He knew how to pull his brother's and ex-wife's heartstrings. That would come later, since he had gotten himself into enormous trouble.

"Hold him right there," Goku told the guards, facing his brother. "What in the hell were you thinking, you selfish, scheming prick? At my job? Behind my back?! Do you know who this man is?! What is wrong with you?!"

Raditz's sneer boiled with churlish bitterness. "I do now," he slurred. "The big boss scraps well - for a little fella. Thanks for the betrayal, brother. I get it now. Prostituting my wife to keep your shitty job."

"I'm not your wife anymore," Bulma defiantly shot back. "Never again."

Goku lunged for his brother's neck, shouting obscenities. Three of the six guards had to restrain him. One kept repeating that going to jail over Raditz wasn't worth it, helping Goku's blind rage dissolve.

"Get his sorry ass out of here," he said sadly. "I don't… want to see his face anymore."

"Hon, get over here!" Bulma called out. "Vegeta's not all right. I'm not sure what's happening. He had been doing well. He needs his inhaler, and I don't have my equipment with me."

Goku clapped his hands, kneeling beside her. "Billy, run to the kitchen and bring water for Bulma and Mr. V. Move! I'm so sorry about all of this, sir. I'll have someone run to the room for your inhaler."

"Don't…don't have it…" Vegeta said lethargically. "Lost. Call…Grand's."

"We can't wait for that," Bulma said, taking his pulse. "Let's get him to an emergency room. He needs treatment for respiratory distress as soon as possible. Help me get his turtleneck off."

Vegeta's sweaty glare conveyed his opposition. His hand raised for them to stop.

"Mr. V, she's right," Goku pleaded. "Listen to her." Telling Trunks about this was going to be awful.

Bulma touched Vegeta's face. "Remember what you said?" He didn't look like afraid, but she knew his thoughts were on death. "You promised your boy that you would be OK. Stick by that oath for him and the two people sitting beside you now."

Bulma's head laid on Goku's shoulder as her fingers joined with Vegeta's. Goku couldn't help but remember when he sat holding his best friend like this before. Her father had already died, and for years Bulma blamed herself. That Raditz forced them to relive that horrible experience hurt tremendously.

Guards kept curious onlookers far away while an ambulance pulled into the back. Bulma helped the medical technicians fit Vegeta with an oxygen mask, keeping her soothing hand in his as they drove off. With so much noise around, he just needed someone to be silent with him.

How she figured that out, he didn't know.

Trunks strode toward the intensive-care unit reeling from the past twenty-four hours. The corporate office, the board, national news, and questions from family and friends blurred together, in addition to the full details of his father's takedown of Raditz. Though Goku spared no detail as he broke the news by phone, Trunks said little. The jet ride back to Chicago felt like an eternity.

Truly unbelievable.

"Yeah, mom, I'm outside of his room now. No, you don't have to fly here to be with me. The team is working well at corporate while I'm with him. No interruptions. Uncle T.R. is coming tomorrow, unfortunately. I'm not sure how long they'll keep dad here. Yes, it's true. He kicked some guy's ass. Love you. I'll call you later."

As he entered, Trunks was rather taken aback to see Bulma seated by his sleeping father's bed. Her head hung down as she held Vegeta's hand. Considering that her ex-husband kicked off this nightmare, Trunks felt angry at first but accepted that it was wrong to judge her or Goku about Raditz. Vegeta had a sympathetic and knowledgeable person with him until the young man could arrive. That mattered most.

"Hello, Doctor Brief."

"Oh, hi, Trunks." Bulma stood. "Come, take my seat. They're keeping your dad lightly sedated, but that won't last much longer. Definitely needs the rest, though, and a lot more after he's released."

"What caused this attack?"

"He picked up an aggressive respiratory virus that everyone thought was a bad cold, probably from an infected child. But Vegeta's body was likely building up to an asthma attack before he caught this virus."

"So this has progressed to pneumonia?"

"Yes, hon, unfortunately, but it could have been much worse. Still, so much of this bothers me. His treatment and medication plan need to be upgraded. Something stopped working when it shouldn't have. He was doing really well. I'm sure you recognized that. How's his schedule been?"

"Frenetic," Trunks replied, "but I never got the impression that he was struggling - or as much - since he started going to your practice for help. Dad lives for the thrill of the chase at work, but I'll admit that he's burned the candle at both ends lately. A lot happening with the company right now."

"Trunks, I have privileges at this hospital, so I can discuss anything with the attending physicians if I have your permission. If you have questions or feel like anyone is acting improperly, call. He's receiving non-invasive oxygen therapy for now - that's why the mask is on so tightly - which is good. I'll leave you two alone - and I'm so sorry about the trouble my ex-husband caused. I… am… devastated. I owe Vegeta."

"No, you don't," Trunks said, adjusting his father's blanket. "He wouldn't have it any other way - and, yes, you have my permission."

Trunks woke up a couple hours later with fingers snapping next to his ear. He smiled. Only his father would awaken him like a crusty football coach. Knowing that his son was considerably more upset than he appeared, Vegeta's burly arm grasped Trunks' hand in a show of strength.

"There's plenty of time for you to complicate my life, so keep quiet," Trunks said, wiping wetness from his eyes. "Company is OK. That's all I'm saying about that."

Vegeta's eyes closed. Seeing his son's like this tapped into mental pain that he preferred not to revisit. There was only so much talking he could do, so words had to be chosen wisely. "Best son…ever."

Trunks took a deep breath to calm himself. "Dad, you're going to be fine, OK?"

Vegeta nodded to assure him. "Bulma…safe?"

"Yes. She was here when I arrived and feels terribly about what happened. For now, you need as much rest as possible. Her docs will try to figure why things went backward for you like this."

As Vegeta fell back to sleep, Trunks reflected on how sad Bulma seemed, a very different side of the sassy modern-day duchess that Goku described. Then there was his father, who didn't even ask about his own brother - only him and…

My god, I'm such an idiot. Dad is interested in her. She's been on his mind for months then. Trunks knew that if given a choice, Vegeta would opt to touch an ox's testicles over admitting this to him.

He left the room, picking up his phone. "Hey, Goku. He's doing as well as expected. Pneumonia. Yeah. Doctor Brief was here. Look, I'm still wired from all of this. Close the restaurant if it's almost empty. I'll pay the staff extra to make up for their lost time. Make the stiffest Sazerac possible at the bar, and use my uncle's favorite whiskey."

By the time Trunks arrived at Sadala, the chef had a fresh cheeseburger and fries ready too. Goku sat down on a stool behind the bar, placing the cocktail in front of him.

Trunks' finger dipped in the glass. "Thanks."

"Anytime, bud."

Trunks said nothing while he ate, which didn't trouble Goku. He expected the young man to open up eventually. If not now, then later. Goku knew how protective Trunks was of Vegeta. He also accepted that that his might lose his job. Who wants a worker's hothead brother around causing trouble?

"Would you make me another Sazerac please?"

Goku refused. "Normally, I would say yes if we were having fun, but not now. Your dad wouldn't want you soaking in booze, and I suspect that you'd ask for two more drinks after the second."

Trunks looked up. "I've been an adult for a while, you know."

Goku smiled. "Let me school you on something, bud. What I don't think you realize is your dad is a street brawler at heart. Like most strivers with big goals, he's taken not-so-great hits. But as proven by handing my brother's ass to him, Mr. V can rope-a-dope well in life's boxing ring. And when he gets a little too arrogant, your influence keeps him grounded. What a marvelous gift that is!"

"You seem to know a lot about parenthood - and I'm amazed at how many clichés you use."

Goku took a drink of water. "Only what my grandfather taught me, and when I was younger, I thought about adopting a kid."

Trunks reclined in his chair. "Since we're being frank, I need you to answer something for me."

"Yeah?"

"Were you also trying to set up dad and Doctor Brief a while ago?"

Goku turned around to start the dishwasher. "What makes you ask that?"

"Yes or no, Goku?"

"It's fine to call her Bulma now, I believe, and yes. Does that bother you?"

"Yes, but not because of our attempt to stay employed. How did she feel about this?"

"Didn't like it then. Doesn't like it now. Told me just before we met at happy hour."

"Maybe you should respect her wishes then. What woman wants to feel like she's being pimped?"

Goku's hands slammed on the bar, overturning a napkin holder. "Now just hold on just a second right ther! Don't use that language with me. I've always wanted the best for ever since we were kids. I shouldn't be saying this, but I never wanted her to marry my brother either."

"And?"

"I dunno, Trunks! Maybe I just see two people who have what it takes to handle each other. What brought all of this to mind?"

"Besides focusing on me, Bulma was the only other person dad asked about. He could barely speak, but that message came through as clear as a bell."

Goku paused. "I'm sure. He asked her out - in a roundabout way - the same day they met."

Trunks almost choked on his water. "Excuse me? My father? Is Armageddon approaching?"

Goku bent over laughing. "You'll have to ask the priests about that. I haven't been to Mass in years. Just keep listening. My friend is opening her heart. She either doesn't know or hasn't accepted that yet. You didn't see how she looked at him before the ambulance came. I did."

"Probably the same way when I showed up. Looked like she was holding his hand for some time."

"Don't be so sure that it wasn't reciprocated, bud."

Trunks wiped his mouth. "I'm going home to rest and call the hospital. Have a lot to think about, as you do. Thanks for being real with me."

Goku shook hands with him. "Take care of yourself. I'll handle everything this week and keep the reporters at bay. There's enough information out there already."

Bulma returned to the hospital about 1 a.m. She could have called or accessed the hospital's computer system to check Vegeta's records, but she couldn't sleep anyway. Having Raditz on her mind was taxing enough, even as she stayed at a friend's house to unwind. The customary beeps and humming of various machines greeted her in Vegeta's dim room. She didn't plan to stay long.

The night-shift nurses said Vegeta had discomfort about an hour after Trunks left, so they gave him more of the sedative to keep him relaxed. He wouldn't know she was there, one nurse said. Bulma stood above him, surveying his features. He didn't look as pale, and his fever was down.

Bulma's instincts said not to touch him. Yet what sick person doesn't need touch? No other close friends or family were around yet besides Trunks. After holding his hand for a few minutes, Vegeta's fingers clamped firmly around her wrist. Even in his drugged state, he felt her presence. Despite months of self-imposed separation, they remained drawn to each other.

Bulma inhaled. She didn't want this, and yet she did. She couldn't explain away her interest in how Vegeta lived or when Goku told funny stories about Vegeta and Trunks' arguments. She couldn't explain away her recognition of his vulnerability that others didn't - and also wonder about his past marriage. Though she was successful in her own right, Bulma still saw herself as the girl from the neighborhood who made good. This man was on a completely different level.

Her fingers brushed across Vegeta's head, helping the drug put him fully to sleep.

Though he was expected earlier, Vegeta's brother Tarble didn't show until midmorning on the third day of Vegeta's hospital stay. Among 's employees, compared with his brother's cantankerousness, "T.R." was just plain sour. The thought of that man running the business alarmed executives in every country where had properties. He served on the board but didn't have enough sway to force himself into a higher-ranking position, not even with other extended family members who were silent shareholders in the company that his brother built. Truth be told, bribes wouldn't even get T.R. that far. Trunks would be the likely successor if Vegeta died or were irreversibly incapacitated.

Vegeta's oxygen mask was removed, replaced by a nose cannula to assist his breathing. His intellect was in great shape as well as the rest of his body - just enough for him to feel restless. The recovery had to be quicker after leaving the hospital. Anton was already on the job, seeking options to do just that.

T.R. came in dressed in a black trench coat and boots to make him appear taller. Periodicals were stuffed under one shoulder. Trunks, who was seated near the TV, didn't stand, watching his uncle drop a newspaper on Vegeta's over-bed table. An interior page was bookmarked, presumably about .

"I'm shocked that my brother isn't browbeating you for leaving the coal mines, nephew."

"I'm not working the rest of the week," Trunks said, appearing less than pleased. His uncle had a talent for getting under his skin. "Hand those papers to me. Dad can catch up on company news later."

T.R. smiled, looking at Vegeta. "You want that?"

"When is the company not on my mind?" Vegeta said, glancing at Trunks to back off. "It's fine."

"The good news is that shares have bounced back on the NYSE since we told reporters about you being hospitalized," T.R. said as he unfolded the paper. "The price drop wasn't that huge either, compared with earlier this month. However, there is that little problem about your judo match at Sadala."

Losing patience, Trunks rose as Vegeta started coughing. "Uncle, would you please -"

"Trunks, bring that water pitcher over here," Vegeta requested. "That's being handled, Tarble."

As much as his brother got on his last fucking nerve, Vegeta wouldn't allow his son to take the bait. T.R. knew Vegeta was his nephew's weak spot. His jealousy about their father-son bond rankled too.

"My apologies," T.R. said. "I didn't mean to upset either of you. I'm just worried."

"And I'm not," Vegeta said curtly. "This fool would be wise not to cross…cross me again. Drunk doctors who…who attack women aren't necessarily good candidates to keep their medical licenses. Discussion over."

"Understood," T.R. said. "Trunks, am I still welcome at Sadala?"

Trunks restrained his eyeballs from rolling. "Your whiskey is on the top shelf at the bar, T.R. Why don't you head over there now to rest yourself? The Lakeside suite has been prepared for your arrival."

"Why thank you, son," T.R. said with a wink. "You're more than welcome to join me for a drink later. Sleep well, brother."

"I'll consider it," Trunks said. "Bye."

Vegeta called his son over as T.R. left. "Stop."

"Stop what, dad? He's obnoxious! You're out of breath and coughing now."

"I have pneumonia. That's part…part of the deal. Go have that cocktail with him. He's a dick, but a little attention to his ego goes a long way."

Trunks laughed as he and Vegeta knocked fists. "I'll pass on that torture, thank you very much. I'll be back either tonight or tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Vegeta said, noticing a woman's earring on the nightstand. "Get going." After making sure Trunks was out of sight, he retrieved his phone.

"Good morning. This is Brief and Associates. How may I direct your call?"

"Is... Doctor Brief available?"

"I'm sorry, sir. She's left town for a few days. Is this an emergency? Are you all right? "

"Yes, thanks."