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.

It had taken a while for shock to rear its ugly head, waiting until the adrenaline had worn off and she was alone in her home office. She hadn't been able to get the image of her drowned husband out of her head, his pale face dogging her every thought as she attempted to focus on her work. The feel of his frigid hands had ghosted her fingers as she tried to type, making her own shake to the point where eventually she had given up, wrapping her digits around a warm cup of fresh coffee and retiring to her room to read.

He had nearly died.

It was a possibility she faced often, with her husband an avid fighter determined to contest his strength against more and more powerful enemies. And he had already perished twice, once before she really knew him, and once when…well, she hadn't been angry with him until after he revealed his culpability in the events leading up to his self-destruction. So she had already grieved for him, and technically, he had also died when Frieza blew up the planet (or she assumed as much from the others' reactions, but if a weakened Frieza hadn't why would he?) before Whis turned back everything.

But there was no growing accustomed to the fear which gripped her heart at the concept of her husband dying. Of him suffering in the depths of Hell, of him being away from her without consent. The fear which made all of her misgivings, and of the arguments with him suddenly seem so trivial in the face of death.

In this light she began to question herself and her determination to remain apart from him. He had been adamant that she was incorrect in her assertions about his activities, and his feeling of guilt could hardly be a give-away considering how remorseful he had been lately about his past. And really, after two people threw themselves in front of her to save her from Beerus, she was more forgiving about his protective attitude.

If it were a choice of keeping secrets, or keeping Vegeta, she knew which she would have chosen. It didn't make it okay for him to make important decisions without her, to treat her like china or to make presumptions like that.

But she understood the impulse.

And really, she loved him. At the end of the day, she loved him more than anything, and no action on his part was ever going to drive that love from her heart.

She loved him, and she wanted him back. No more empty beds, no more cold nights, no more cold shoulders or raised voices. No, that was unrealistic, but she wanted to bring this argument with him to a close. Another one would inevitably arise later to take its place, that's just the way it was with them, but for now, she ached for his steadying presence.

"Bulma?"

Speak of the devil, Vegeta poked his head in to their bedroom, looking a darn sight better than he had on the bricks by the pool. She could only see his face, but the handsome features called to her heart and body.

"Come in," she answered, patting his side of the bed invitingly.

He frowned at her, looking uncharacteristically timid as he made his way inside, the first time he had entered with her permission in days. Settling on the bed quietly, gently disturbing the mattress, he regarded her with an inquisitive expression, before speaking in a low voice.

"I came to inform you of some…potentially exciting news," he said hesitantly.

"Really? What is it?"

Seemingly put off by the lack of aggression in her tone, he continued, waiting for the other shoe to drop as was characteristic of him whenever Bulma decided that she forgave him for whatever had instigated their fight.

"Beerus has left."

"Left? As in, gone home?"

"That is correct."

"Really?" she gave him a dazzling smile, "That's wonderful! You and Ternyp must be very relieved!"

"Indeed."

"So," she leaned in, taking his hand and giving it a firm squeeze, "if he's gone, can you tell me now?"

"Tell you…what?"

"Your secrets. What you've been up to."

He drew a sharp breath, looking away as he worried at his hands.

"You…you will be so angry…" he shook visibly, fear of her wrath, worse than anything she had levelled at him thus far, making him tremble like leaves in a strong breeze.

"What have you done?" She couldn't promise him that she wouldn't be. She couldn't say how she would react without knowing what the contents of the secrets he was keeping were.

"I…I haven't…" he struggled to settle his breath, "I haven't…"

"You haven't done anything?" she raised a sceptical eyebrow, "Why are you so afraid of my reaction if you haven't done anything?"

He turned away, hands clenching and unclenching at the sheets.

"It isn't…what you think," he responded in a whisper.

"Then what is it? I need you to be frank with me, Vegeta. I want you back, but how can I welcome you without knowing what you're keeping from me? How can I in good conscience restore our relationship?"

"It was new memories," he answered softly.

"I'm sorry?"

"The guilt, the remorse, it was new memories, ones I didn't know I had. They came back to me on Frieza Planet 95."

"You mean repressed memories?" Bulma asked, but he merely stared at his hands.

"Vegeta?"

"I haven't done anything evil since the incident with Babidi, but I've discovered that I…had in the past."

"Vegeta, I'm aware of what you were like. What is so bad that you can't speak to me about it?"

He buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking as Bulma's stomach dropped. Just what had he done? And why had his mind hidden the deeds from him until now?

"Vegeta?"

"I cannot…say it. Not after how you reacted over my nightmare with Bra."

So it all came back to that, the moment of decision with terrible consequences where she had turned her back on her husband, struggling with his sinful past and its ramifications as he was placed in his victim's shoes.

"Please, Vegeta," she begged, reaching out to take his wrists, trying and failing to pull his hands from his face, "please talk to me."

"No," he moaned, "No, I won't. You'll hate me."

"Vegeta, I could never hate you," she insisted, "not ever."

But he merely shook his head, still shaking as he concealed himself from her.

"Vegeta," she pressed, softly but firmly.

"No."

She gave a reluctant sigh, sitting back as she considered her husband. What he was hiding from her, what he had been hiding from himself? What could it be that was so traumatic? She knew he had committed atrocities on a mass scale. She knew that. What had he done in addition to that which he was so afraid of her finding out?

"Honey?"

He remained silent, crumpling in on himself as he became lost in his own mind, in his harrowing recollections.

"Vegeta?"

There was no response.

"At least…" she paused, "is Ternyp well enough that you can leave him alone with his buzzer?"

"I suppose," he whispered in answer.

"Then stay here tonight."

He jolted, head snapping up to face her with bewildered eyes.

"After…? After what you have heard?"

"Honey, I have said it before and I know I'll have to say it again. The past is the past. You're a changed man. I know this, and you should as well. I knew what I was getting into when I first proposed a relationship with you."

"I was merely a physique to pass the time with at that stage," he objected.

"Yes," she admitted, "but nevertheless, I'm not about to give my body over to someone I consider evil. You weren't, in my mind. The fact that you're so disturbed about these revelations of further wrongdoing just cements this fact. A truly evil person would not be remorseful."

He was silent a moment, letting her words sink in before turning away, rising slowly from the bed. Like a zombie, he made his way towards the door, expression downcast before she hastened to stop him.

"Hey, I thought you were sleeping here, tonight."

He gave her a solemn look, before sighing.

"I need to retrieve my things, and let Ternyp know where I will be."

"Oh, right. Well, you go do that, then."

It was only after Vegeta left that she had a moment to really consider his words. Yes, he had revealed the issues plaguing him, cloaking him in remorse and giving nuance to his responses. He had not, after all, reverted. He did not have any more blood on his hands than before, technically, although he was now aware of there being more than he had previously thought. He hadn't broken a promise to her.

That was all cleared up nicely, except for the fact that he had thoroughly distracted her from the 'dangerous' information he possessed. This knowledge was not dangerous, and did not relate to Beerus in the slightest, as far as she was aware. It made no sense for him to reveal this to her now, after Beerus had left. She understood why he had concealed it from her, but not why he had deemed it 'dangerous', if he had in fact been referring to this piece of information. And if he hadn't, then there was still something else which needed deciphering.

For instance, this revelation did not explain his constant disappearances.

But…she was over kicking him out for his secrets. Clearly he was distrustful of her for a good reason, namely that she had reacted poorly in the past, and he was frightened of that. She had simply lost his confidence, and she doubted her actions of late, in jumping to conclusions and accusing him on little evidence, would have made the situation any better.

And perhaps he assumed, correctly as it turned out, that her ire would blow over without him needing to reveal anything to her. Whatever he was concealing was apparently deemed worth that risk.

"Vegeta," she tried again when he returned, a bundle of pyjamas in his arms, "you're still hiding something from me."

He was silent as he changed, throwing the clothes he had swiped in her pique in the laundry hamper, making her wonder why he hadn't snuck in at some point to collect more of his things. Was he that confident of her forgiveness, or did he think it would be too rude?

"Vegeta," she prompted, ignoring the stirrings within her at his naked form.

"I acknowledge that," he admitted, stepping into his pants, "but I have my reasons."

"What reasons?" she challenged, "Beerus has gone now. You can't be worried about my safety."

"He could return."

"Vegeta, come on," she pressed, "don't treat me like this. We're supposed to be a couple, equal partners and the like. Why does my knowing something, far away from where Beerus is residing, put us in danger?"

"It's your reaction I fear," he confessed, stalking to the bed and ripping back the sheets, "you have seemed rather intent on revenge against him, even, as Ternyp has told me, trying to incite his anger."

"Ternyp shouldn't be letting him get away with his treatment!"

"That is his decision to make, not yours," Vegeta reasoned.

"Surely you agree with me?"

"About what?" Vegeta hedged, sliding into bed and making himself as comfortable as possible.

"About Beerus. That Ternyp shouldn't be taking this lying down!"

"I will support whatever Ternyp chooses, and as he has chosen not to engage, then I support that."

"But he's your friend, Vegeta," Bulma pressed, "the only friend I've ever noticed you having, apart from Goku-"

Vegeta snorted.

"- you can't possibly not be affected by this."

"Whether I am affected or not is irrelevant. It is Ternyp's decision. Besides, isn't letting one's anger go what you have been begging me to do all of these years?"

"This is different," Bulma objected, turning off the lights as she made her own way to their bed. She took her place on the mattress, feeling the sheets settle around her, blanketing her form and protecting her from the cruel world outside. Wriggling her bare toes in their cocoon, she reached out for her husband, basking in his warmth for the first time in days.

"It's different," she insisted as he remained silent, muscles quivering at her touch.

"It isn't," he told his pillow, "he has been tortured by a tyrannical being. Beerus is very similar to Frieza in his behaviour while performing such activities, although they are quite different people outside of it. I fail to see why your words to me on moving on don't also apply to him."

"Vegeta, Frieza was dead when I made those comments to you. There was no possibility of revenge, so it was better for you to move on. I understand where you are coming from, but your anger was paralysing you in a very real way. It was preventing you from becoming the person you were meant to be. Ternyp isn't like that."

Vegeta hummed in consideration, shuffling about on the mattress as he adjusted his position. Bulma reached out to kick his foot with her own, letting out a soft giggle as he huffed.

She couldn't help but feel elated at his presence in her bed, no their bed, after so long. He was a furnace on a low-setting, exuding heat and warming her as she snuggled amongst the sheets. Scooting closer, she tangled her hands in his hair, feeling the coarse, gravity-defying strands between her fingers.

"You never did answer my question, though," she tried to keep it light, massaging his scalp as he made an enquiring noise.

"Well, I suppose I didn't really say a question, but it was implied."

"What is it?"

"What you're still keeping from me, Vegeta. Where do you keep vanishing to?"

"Nowhere."

"Vegeta," she whined, tugging at his impressive mane.

"Please desist with this line of questioning. You know from experience it will lead to nothing but misery for the both of us."

"That's because you refuse to answer honestly!"

"And if I did, it would, as the phrase goes, 'all finish in tears'."

"How can I judge whether that's correct if you won't tell me anything?!"

"Bulma," he sighed towards the window, "there are some things you are better off not knowing."

"Darn you and Whis both!" she hissed, "I seem to recall you promising to be 'true' to me at our wedding."

She felt him still under her, silence engulfing them along with the calls of crickets.

"I thought that meant…monogamy," he trailed off.

"No, Vegeta," she lied, crossing her toes, "it means to always be truthful in your dealings with me. That means being upfront."

"You haven't said anything along those lines up until now," he hedged, but she could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

"I kept emphasising that we were husband and wife, thinking you knew what that meant. But I thought the trust between us should be more important than a vow. You shouldn't be honest with me because of a promise, but because we're a married couple and we love and trust each other. Is whatever you're keeping from me really worth forsaking that bond?"

"Do we really trust each other?" Vegeta asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I do not trust you not to overreact, not to do something outrageous against myself or someone else in response to whatever I reveal to you. I do not trust you to look at me in the same way, to love me in the same way, if I tell you. And on the other hand, you do not trust me, jumping to conclusions and having no faith in my word."

"Vegeta," she whispered, stroking a hand down his arm, thinking that they must be the worst couple in the world, "Vegeta, I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say to convince you that it won't happen again. That I won't do those things again. Please, Vegeta, won't you give me another chance? We'll go nowhere in our marriage if we can't get past this hurdle. We need to trust each other. We have to. And you did promise."

He exhaled loudly, sheets rustling as he moved.

"Vegeta, please."

"I heard you," he sighed.

"So, talk to me," she insisted.

"You're not going to like it," he warned, continuing to give her his back.

"Oh well," she shrugged, "you've told me a lot of things that I haven't liked over the years."

"And you kicked me out of bed every time."

"How about this, then? If I don't like what you say, I sleep on the couch."

Well, it would be the spare room, but this way sounded better, and frankly it was sort of hilarious when he had to do it, even if it was a little too open for her liking.

"You have done that once, and it wasn't a pleasant experience either."

"Well, what can I say that will convince you to trust me? I promise that, whatever it is, I won't leave you over it."

She heard him let out a breath.

"Vegeta, please. You have to learn to trust me, or else we are failed as a couple. Love is supposed to engender trust. Don't you love me?"

"Of course I do."

More upfront than she was expecting, but she would take it.

"Then act like it," she echoed her son's words of long before, making him turn to face her, silhouette looking rather monstrous in the dark.

"Bulma, I…" she felt him squirm, taking a series of fortifying breaths.

"I don't know how to say this…I don't know…"

"Just try your best," she coaxed.

"Bulma, I…" he faltered, breathing deeply again, "I am not…I am not the person you think I am."

Well, that was enigmatic.