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.
Bulma wasn't sure if she was worried, angry, or both. When she returned from the hospital, after glaring at her fine for parking in the disabled bay, Vegeta was still absent. No one reported being able to sense him, Bulma calling up Goku at his home to ask after Merus replied in the negative. Apparently he wasn't in the Other World, so he hadn't died. No, he had just vanished off the face of the Earth.
Or, alternatively, was hiding.
At first she had thought he was hiding from Beerus considering their altercation. But that had been in the middle of the night; Vegeta being missing after their return from Lord Zeno's palace. And he had consistently vanished for long periods at a time ever since, despite demonstrating no paralysing fear of the God of Destruction.
She no longer thought that was the cause.
Even easy-going Trunks had asked over dinner where his father was disappearing to, failing to reach him with telepathy as Bra cried out for her 'Da'. She hadn't been able to give a satisfactory answer, growing more and more frustrated as the hours ticked by without a sign from him.
Punching the pillow beside her, Bulma tried to settle down to sleep, deciding to wait until morning for further information. If he still didn't show…well, she wasn't sure what she would do. But the longer he was missing for, the angrier she would be when he returned. And she was already quite incensed. He had left Bra during story-time, just left her alone on the floor. There hadn't been a fight, of that much Goku had been certain. So he had no excuse for his behaviour.
And it was just another case of secrecy with him; Vegeta clammed up about a whole host of things, refusing to tell her the truth, even lying at times, perhaps more than she thought. It wasn't something a wife ought to have to put up with. Weren't they married? Weren't they a couple? What could possibly be so bad that Vegeta had to keep it from her?
Growling, Bulma buried her head in the pillow, wrapping the cold sheets around her.
She was going to give him a fierce talking to when he returned.
Waking early, Bulma knew that even on his usual schedule Vegeta would not be present, and was not too disappointed upon finding her bed empty of him. He would be out saving the populace as the Paltjeh, working his healing miracles and astounding everybody with his new powers.
Crawling out of the bed, Bulma decided to check something.
Normally, their bedside tables were a place of secrecy, neither partner daring, out of a deep understanding of trust, to open the other's. But Vegeta had betrayed her trust, lying and keeping secrets from her, so she felt justified in opening the top drawer to find—
His caller. The medical communication device he had been gifted by Wilhelm and nutted out with her over lunch.
Why had he left it there? If he was out on his rounds, surely he would have taken it with him.
Unless he wasn't out on his rounds after all.
Frustration erupting from her with a roar, she slammed the drawer shut, kicking Vegeta's side of the bed for good measure, even though her toe paid dearly for it.
Damn him. She thought she had solved his riddles, figured out the secrets he assumed he was keeping so well, even as his continued reticence gnawed at her.
Hobbling, Bulma decided to start her day early, knowing she would not be getting back to sleep now. Choosing an outfit that would be easy to change into and forgoing shoes for the moment, Bulma entered the bathroom in search of her cosmetics. One glance around the place was enough to tell her that Vegeta had not snuck in to have a shower, his towel still dry as it hung in place.
Not even returning for hygiene purposes?
But thinking about it, she wasn't sure she could recall Vegeta taking a shower since their return.
She didn't like the suspicions which were forming in her mind about where he was going instead.
He'd been acting so guilty, so terribly guilty, like the universe was weighing down on his soul. Eyes a vacuum of sorrow whenever he gazed at his family. He was acting like he had immediately after their fallout over the Buu saga, head bowed, trying to re-ignite their relationship, trying to restore something. Everything he had done was for her, as if...trying to make up for something...just like before.
It was a repeat of his behaviour from then, a repeat she hadn't thought was warranted, considering that he hadn't done anything to her family. Now she was reviewing her assumptions. It could have been remorse from Frieza Planet 95.
Or he could have become involved in untoward activities all over again.
Why else would he keep things from her?
"Hey, Bulma," came a friendly greeting.
Bulma's mascara brush flew into the shower as she spun around to see—
"Goku," she breathed, placing one hand over her racing heart, "Seriously, do you have to do that?"
Ignoring her question, Goku asked, "Have you found Vegeta yet?"
"No," she snarled, "I haven't seen hide nor hair of him. Haven't you sensed anything?"
"Not a blip," he replied, "Which is annoying because I wanted to ask him for a spar under the cover of taking Goten to play at his friend's house."
"Isn't he old enough to go on his own?" she quirked an eyebrow.
"Well, yes, but I don't think Chichi will mind. I'm sorta bored and I know Vegeta's usually up for a fight."
"Good luck with that," she answered, "And if you see him, be sure to beat him up for me."
"Beat him up?" Goku scratched his head, "Why would I want to do that?"
"Because he's being an ass! Honestly, he went AWOL on Bra yesterday during her favourite time!"
"AWOL?"
"Absent Without Leave. He just up and vanished."
"Oh," Goku commented, "Well, it was nice talking to you, Bulma, but I think Chichi is going to get up soon so I have to go. Later!"
He disappeared with a 'pop' in much the same way as her husband must have the day before. Letting out a low breath, she began her day.
It was mid-afternoon before Bulma made it back to the hospital, having spent the early morning waiting, and lunch time traveling to North City to interview the hospital staff. She hadn't been able to speak to Wilhelm, being at home sleeping after his late night/early morning shift, but she did hear from others that the Paltjeh had not appeared since the very day she and the others had returned with Gemuse in arms.
This did not surprise her, but it did anger her greatly, causing her to fry her lunch with her glares and disturb the city dwellers. Not that she cared.
Her husband had been pretending to be away healing people, when he was who knew where! That was a low blow. She hadn't considered him capable of such a move. And what could he be doing instead, which drew him away from home for such long periods, without notice and without consideration for his family?
A quick call home over her meal had established that Vegeta a) had not returned for lunch b) could not be sensed and c) could not be contacted by telepathic link. He was certainly hiding something.
Naturally, Bulma was highly distracted as she entered Ternyp's hospital room, number 082 again. She hoped that he would be awake so they could converse, although they didn't really have any common interests aside from Vegeta, if that even counted at present.
"Ah," the kindly nurse in her fifties vocalised as she entered, laden with laptop bag and another coffee, "You're in luck. He's just woken up."
Ternyp was propped up on the bed, looking much improved compared to how she had last seen him. His body was covered with a hospital gown, wires disappearing beneath the material, continuing to monitor his healed heart. Both arms rested above the blankets, one wrapped in a cast, the other sporting something similar at the wrist, as well as a finger splint, an IV-line entering into that elbow. The nurse held a cup up to Ternyp's lips, his throat moving with rhythmic swallowing motions.
"Good, good," she commented as Bulma found a seat, pulling it up beside the bed as Whis vacated it in favour of avoiding the coffee-carrying demon.
"I'm just going to take your bloods, now, love," the nurse informed him, "Just a little prick on the finger, and then you're done for the moment."
Ternyp didn't even twitch as the object pierced his skin, drawing a few drops of blood for analysis.
"There we are," the nurse patted his shoulder, "You rest up now, and make sure you drink plenty of water. I'll be back to check on you in an hour."
Ternyp nodded, watching the lady waltz out the door, with her sanguine tube, a spring in her step.
"You look better," Bulma commented, "How are you feeling?"
"Much improved," he answered, "My heart is no longer hurting. I can drink, although," he glared at a bag by his side, "I still cannot eat."
"One step at a time," she laughed, "You're doing really well! The doctors must be shocked."
"Indeed," his eyes narrowed, "I had one asking if he could study me in more depth. I refused."
"That's probably for the best. The press would have a field day with you."
Remembering the exposé on Vegeta's healing activities, seeming so long ago now, she decided to pose a question.
"Say, Ternyp. Do you know where Vegeta's been running off to?"
"Running off to?" he frowned, "He comes to visit me often to…" he paused, looking away as his cheeks heated.
"To what?"
"To…help me…relieve myself."
"Oh," she looked down at her lap, "But you don't know where he goes aside from that?"
"Is there any particular reason you are asking?" Ternyp responded, giving her a probing look.
"He keeps vanishing, leaving for long periods at a time with no explanation."
"Ah. And you are worried?"
"Worried? I was, but now I'm just mad."
"Mad?" he enquired, "From what the prince has revealed to me, this is hardly unusual for your relationship."
"This isn't like before! And he had no right to tell you!"
She blithely ignored the voice which reminded her that she was free with her words on the topic of her husband when conversing with friends, family and even strangers.
"I know he's up to something," she explained, wanting to work out her frustrations with someone, and she may as well tell Vegeta's friend as a go-between because she didn't want Vegeta to pull some trick involving the children to wheedle away at her anger.
"Up to something?"
"He's been...solicitous."
"And this is not beneficial for your bond?" Ternyp quirked an eyebrow.
"He's acting just like he did after he threw away our family and our marriage for the sake of power! He promised me he wouldn't do that again, but—"
And then she remembered.
"He broke a promise to me. He admitted it. Said it wasn't reversion but he keeps lying to me! How am I supposed to believe him if he won't tell me the truth?!"
Bulma rubbed her pristine, scarlet nails against her palms, letting out a violent huff of air.
"Some couple we are," she lamented.
"As I understand it, most partners experience this."
"You're a hermit," she deadpanned.
"I am...not unaware of such matters," he answered vaguely, making her wonder if he had ever married, or at least mated, in that mysterious space of time before the destruction of Planet Vegeta.
"Say, Ternyp," she broke in, feeling terribly rude for unloading all of her problems on him without warning, "What's this 'Planet of Death' like?"
Ternyp stared blankly up at the ceiling, failing to answer.
"Ternyp?" she asked, causing him to blink rapidly, apologising, "I asked you about the 'Planet of Death'."
"Oh," he frowned, "It's rather desolate. Freezing in winter and scorching in summer all over the globe. There are a few life-forms which manage to survive there; small, but lethal."
"I see. And what do you like doing with yourself in your spare time?" she questioned, changing the subject abruptly.
He did not respond.
"Ternyp?"
"Oh, sorry," he blinked heavily at her.
"Maybe I should let you sleep," she conceded, "It was nice talking to you."
"Are you leaving?"
"Not if you don't want me to," she answered, "I'll stay here and do some work."
"I…hate to ask, but…" he looked away.
"Yes?" she prompted.
"Would you mind helping me drink? I can't seem to work my arms outside of painful stimulus."
"Of course."
Bulma found the plastic cup on his bedside table, topping it up with the nearby jug. She lowered it gently to Ternyp's lips, watching him take small sips of the restoring liquid. After a few seconds, he looked up at her, indicating the trestle table with his eyes.
"Enough? Okay. You should rest now. I'll be right here."
She felt a little odd using the patient bathroom, but Ternyp had insisted that it was alright. After doing her business, Bulma began to touch up her make-up by the sink, taking in the stark surroundings. There were a lot of support structures by the toilet, and an open shower with a chair by it. Not a drop of water could be seen, making her wonder if he had showered at all this entire time. She thought not, considering his atrocious condition at her previous visits.
Perhaps Vegeta could wash him, now.
Capping her lipstick, she shook her head vigorously. She didn't want to think about Vegeta and his secrets. He had never mentioned his role as bathroom attendant to her. What else was he keeping from her?
Opening the door to return to the slumbering Ternyp, Bulma froze on the threshold, eyes fixed on the figure by the bed.
Vegeta.
He was leaning over, one arm behind Ternyp's head while the other held the cup of water, Ternyp gulping greedily.
Bulma's hands clenched, fury awakening within her.
Where had he been?!
"Vegeta!" she yelled, causing him to startle, sloshing water on Ternyp's gown. He hastily replaced the cup, approaching her with arms in a pacifying gesture.
"Bulma, I—"
"Where have you been?!"
"I – I was just at the house. I came here to see you."
She stormed towards him, anger a cyclone around her as she came nose to nose with her husband.
"And before that? I know you weren't out healing this morning, Vegeta. Where were you?"
"Bulma—"
"Don't 'Bulma' me, Vegeta. You vanished into thin air yesterday. You left Bra alone, on the floor of her bedroom, screaming! You've been disappearing ever since we came from back from Lord Zeno's place, and I want answers. Now!"
"Bulma, I...can't tell you."
"Why not? Am I not going to like what I hear?" her voice was steely, because she already knew the answer, and it was written all over his crestfallen face.
"I...think not..."
"Really? And is the worst I can concoct in my imagination really preferable to whatever you're keeping from me?"
Vegeta was silent, failing to meet her eyes as his own were drawn downwards, as if by a powerful force of gravity.
Bulma pulled her hand back, slapping him hard across the jaw. Ignoring the ringing in her fingers, she told him sternly, "I'm sick of all the secrets, Vegeta. It feels like we never married at all. I wonder that I shouldn't end it."
She didn't really mean it, wasn't prepared to take that step, but she had always been a more effective liar than he. At least, as far as she was aware.
The words worked better than the slap, sending him reeling backwards with a kicked expression.
"No…"
"Then tell me where you've been." It was her ultimatum, and she was determined to keep it. The secrets had been irritating, worrying, but now they involved her children. He'd abandoned her daughter for whatever he was doing, wherever he was going.
She wouldn't tolerate that.
"I…can't…"
She turned sharply on her heel, giving cool regards to Ternyp before slipping into the corridor.
"Bulma, wait!"
Ignoring her husband, she sped along at a clicking pace, not jogging, head held high.
"Bulma!"
She found the way to the exit.
"Bulma, please!"
Sunlight hit her as she barrelled through the automatic doors, causing her to squint as she tried to locate her craft.
There.
"Bulma!"
Huffing at his dogged persistence, she nearly twisted an ankle in a gutter as she made her way over.
But Vegeta was standing by the door when she got there.
"Bulma, please," he begged, between her and the cockpit.
"Stand aside, Vegeta," she ordered.
"Bulma—"
"Stand aside!" she approached him again, glaring at him nose to nose as—
Her gaze dropped down to his lips. Those full, delicious lips, which had a splash of colour on them.
She hadn't even considered that, when, really, that should be the first thing on a wife's mind when their husband started disappearing (at least, it was in those romance novels she kept on her bedside table, much to said spouse's disgust).
"You bastard," she hissed, slapping him as hard as she could, causing a red mark to appear on his cheek.
"That's lipstick."
"What?" he asked, rubbing the tender area, before a light seemed to go off in his brain, and did she see a hint of panic? "Ah...that's—"
"You've kissed another woman!"
"Actually she –"
"You're cheating on me!" she declared, "That's where you've been! Who is she?!"
Sweat was beading on his brow as she gritted her teeth, nostrils blaring as her eyes incinerated him.
"I..." his eyes were shifting, tell-tale nervous panting as he continued "I don't know what—"
She cut him off with a vicious kick to his privates, causing him to sink to his knees and allowing her to slip around him.
"You despicable cur," she growled, unlocking her vehicle, "After everything I've done for you. No other woman would put up with your attitude. I can't believe you would throw that away."
"I didn't," he whined, hands between his legs as he hung his head. But Bulma had no ears for him, ripping the door open and stepping into the cockpit with confidence.
"Get out of my sight," she demanded, slamming the door in his face as he turned for one last entreaty.