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, and to a certain extent, scenes. It has been given the highest rating for a reason – you have been warned.

What was it with suffocation? First against the First One, then with Beerus, and now through Beerus' negligence. The fates had it in for Vegeta's poor lungs, that was for sure, as well as his heart. He could feel it suffering, trying desperately to escape his doomed chest. Thumping.

Slowing.

BO-BOOM…BOBOBOBO…BOBOOM…

Still erratic, still palpitating.

Still pumping hard, but the frequency of its sternum shattering beats was slowing.

His jerking body stilled, thoughts becoming muddled, cloudy.

He felt so alone. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything. Just feel. Feel Beerus scratch at him. Feel his body shut down as it was denied oxygen. Feel his starving lungs as they screamed at him, petitioned his mind with such ferocity, but he could do nothing to appease them. He could compare the pain to having two suns implanted in his rib-cage, but knew that would not suffice. He had been training in such a star, after all.

This was far worse.

The pain was all-encompassing, violent and urgent as if followed him into the blackness, into the deaf silence.

…bo-boom… … … bo-boom

How long would it take for him to come back? He wasn't sure. The only reason he had a heart beat so quickly after surgery from the humans was because Merus had donated him some energy.

How long would he be out?

"Please!"

Bulma. His Bulma. He would be leaving her without an explanation. Without a word. What would she feel, what would she think? What would she be forced to endure in his absence?

"PLEASE!"

And Trunks and Bra, his precious children. He didn't want to leave them. He didn't want to go. He didn't…

Didn't…

…bo-boom…

…

Why couldn't the pain end, already? Hadn't he suffered enough lately? It was agonising.

His poor lungs.

…bo-boom…

His poor heart.

Why wouldn't it stop beating already? Stop and let him slide into peace? If there was no way out of this, then did he have to endure this torture?

He just wanted it to end.

To stop.

…..bo-boom….

Then he heard it.

His Bulma.

Screaming.

And suddenly a pool of strength welled up within him, overflowing as it rushed to his lungs.

Healing him.

And he could finally breathe.

Vegeta landed outside the fine restaurant, wondering at Bulma's ever-present standards, preventing her from choosing a more suitable establishment to settle down in. The place was loud, bright, boisterous and completely inappropriate, setting Vegeta's teeth on edge and hindering his calming ritual.

He had started shaking badly on the flight over.

When he had first emerged in the room, nodding to Whis and stepping back in shock as his (admittedly mired) senses had failed to account for the presence of his doctor, Vegeta had been fine.

Well, no, not fine. He had been in a world, no a universe, of agony from the moment he regained consciousness. But mentally he was poised, calm.

Until half-way into his flight when the reality of what he had endured hit him as he finally noticed Beerus' energy in the distance. He should have been too far away to harm Vegeta, but he still managed it. Banking, Vegeta had started to tremble as he tried to stay the course, focusing on getting to Bulma, whose weak energy was distressed. He was surprised he had made it all the way to her without falling, as the shuddering increased to the point where it nearly took him down.

Leaning heavily against a wall, he fought for composure, reminding himself that he had done this before, been through this before. He didn't understand why the session was affecting him so much. Hadn't he suffered much worse under Frieza? Had he grown acclimatised, soft even, in the interim?

Vegeta raised a shaking hand to eye level, examining the sweat-coated gloves.

He shouldn't be so affected by this.

Bulma should be his priority.

Bulma.

Vegeta drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs to their maximum and holding, waiting for his racing heart to calm. Then he exhaled, slowly, counting the seconds which passed.

Inhale…

…

Exhale…

…

He blew out a few more deep breaths before wiping his hand against his training pants, starting towards the restaurant.

Where his Bulma was waiting, distraught.

Intent on reaching his destination, Vegeta nearly bowled over the doorman who entered his path, bald, dark head looming high over the prince's voluminous mane.

"Sorry, sir, but you aren't dressed appropriately," he growled, pointing to a sign beside him.

Obviously humans were supposed to understand what those pictures with red lines through them, and others with green ticks, were supposed to mean, but Vegeta didn't. He could easily just go through the man, but he didn't want to cause a raucous. Bulma would have his head if he involved the media.

"What do I need?"

"A suit would be preferable."

Vegeta nodded, retracing his steps to the alley, patrons behind him in the cue giving him annoyed looks as he had held them up for all of two seconds. He might have been tempted to have a negative thought about rich humans, but his wife was one, and his own father had acted similarly so maybe it was something universal to do with status. Hiding behind a rather classy looking rubbish bin, being the posh end of town, Vegeta focused on the restrictive attire he had worn to Gohan's wedding, much to the astonishment of fellow guests. Bulma had certainly seemed to appreciate it, even if he hadn't, so it might be just what he needed to restore her mood. He thought that was the 'suit' the man was referring to, given so many other males nearby were wearing one.

Giving himself a once-over and smoothing down the creaseless outfit, he started forward for attempt number two, not caring that the doorman would be surprised at his rapid return.

It was time to aid his Bulma.

Bulma had fallen asleep minutes before, but Vegeta was still there, sitting up on the bed even though he knew he needed as much rest as he could obtain. Her words about Beerus were haunting him still, reminding him of his torture, of his strangulation. His lungs burned with phantom pains as he remembered being pinned against the wall, helpless and dying, dangling from Beerus' hand. It may have only been a clone, but the experience of his body failing him was very real. His clone felt, lived, and could even die.

He was concerned that he had invited double to repercussions upon himself, as Beerus could be enticed to brutalise both 'Ternyp' and Vegeta. He agreed with Bulma when she had suggested that he might be targeted by the deity. But he didn't know what to do about it. He couldn't avoid the house – it was where Bulma and his children lived. He couldn't attack Beerus, his clone much too weak for such an endeavour and his body out of commission.

All he could do was endure it.

Taking a deep breath, Vegeta's hand found its way to his heart, feeling its steady rhythm. He remembered the vicious cocktail of panic as his heart was crushed. Remembered the awful dizziness, the feel of his arms and legs moving on their own, smashing around wildly and desperately.

His fist had connected with Bulma's cheek. He had thought, in the depths of his agony, that he had felt something suspicious.

Vegeta wished the First One was the kind of being who lost consciousness and mobility with the cessation of the heart, but he wasn't. Vegeta had experienced the fullness of terror and anguish, crushed beneath Beerus' malice.

He even dimly remembered some of the pressure being removed, remembered the all-encompassing pain in his heart as it slammed, ventricles uselessly throbbing.

He had known, for a few seconds, that something was terribly wrong, before his world had faded to sweet darkness and peace.

He hadn't wanted to wake up.

For a moment he had forgotten about Bulma, about his children, and just wanted to remain in a fugue state, neither dying nor waking.

At peace.

Vegeta drew in a deep breath, eyes falling on his bedside table as he considered vanishing his clone.

His eyes widened as he realised that he had not been to North City in days. Surely the people must be disappointed, perhaps worried, at his absence.

Carefully, gently, Vegeta retrieved the caller Wilhelm had gifted to him, sneaking back out the window and into the backyard. Squatting down under a tree, Vegeta booted up the device, scowling as he noted 11 missed calls.

Sigh taken away by the night breeze, Vegeta called Wilhelm, wondering idly if he would be awake at this hour. It appeared not, a popular tune ringing out and replaced by a robotic female voice telling him to leave a message.

"Wilhelm, it's the Paltjeh. I apologise for being absent these last few days. Unfortunately, I have been incapacitated and will not be able to return for the moment."

He wasn't sure how long it would take for him to heal, energy being syphoned off for physical processes, cloning, or due to his altercation with Beerus.

It could be a while.

The figure was beautiful, stirring his flesh in pleasurable ways as he prepared her, screams an exquisite symphony to his ears. Raking her clothes apart, splitting seams revealing gorgeous and fine purple fur, he smirked at the delicious fear in her eyes.

He was going to enjoy himself tonight.

He readied himself for his favourite activity, when suddenly something changed.

She changed.

One moment he had a beautiful female trapped and chained before him, and the next it was replaced by an irate male of the same species. And he was free, bonds falling uselessly to the floor as pain began to rack Vegeta's body. He felt injured, even though he had the capacity to heal himself, even though he was so powerful very few people, or combinations of people, could harm him.

And he recognised the figure, even though he had never seen him before.

Beerus.

The anthropomorphic cat leapt at him, claws bared. Try as he might, though, Vegeta couldn't muster the strength to defend himself, limbs failing to respond as he was knocked to the ground. Beerus descended on top of him, claws flying, teeth gnashing. Blood streamed out of lacerations decorating Vegeta's body as he screamed, trying to break free.

But Beerus responded by taking his wrists, one at a time, and methodologically snapping them.

"AARGHH!"

Dimly, in the dusky distance, he could hear voices calling to him. Calling him by a name he had never responded to. A name he had recently assumed.

He was having a nightmare.

But the realisation did not free him. No, Beerus' assault continued unabated as voices called to him, blood streaking through the air, bones cracking as Vegeta continued to holler in pain.

"Wake up!"

It was that voice which draw him away, up and away from the manic Beerus, from the phantom agony.

Bulma.

He burst upright with a gasp.

Vegeta was in the middle of reading to Bra when Beerus erupted into his hospital room some distance away, knob cracking the wall as he entered. As he approached like a cat stalking its prey, Vegeta focused intently on delineating the correct set of lips, congratulating himself on how far he was progressing at the technique, and warned Bra that he needed to concentrate. Despite being only a year old, she seemed to understand, falling silent and happily playing with her toes as he allowed his attention to drift elsewhere, book still open in his hands.

Beerus flicked his finger at the door, closing it and covering it in the same aura he had used previously, preventing anyone else from entering.

"Gemuse," he declared, stalking over to the bed, making Vegeta's palms slicken with fear, "We didn't quite finish our discussion. I still have a few points to discuss with you."

Vegeta merely stared as the deity loomed him, casting a long shadow over his exposed chest.

He really hoped Beerus wouldn't target that again, or his stomach. Broken limbs were both preferable and easier to fix than the mess that was his innards.

Beerus gave a small humming noise, unclasping his oxygen mask and flicking it to the side. Vegeta tasted the hygienic hospital air, his chest protesting as the muscles strained to breathe without assistance.

"Firstly," Beerus began, one hand lowering to rest beside Vegeta's head, "We never got to your future plans."

"My…future plans?" Vegeta asked, hating how breathless he sounded. It made him appear weak, at a time when he wanted to convey strength, to show his terroriser that he would not be cowed.

"Yes," Beerus replied, placing the other hand lightly over Vegeta's heart. He grimaced as the meagre weight pained him, throbbing more or less depending on the height of his chest vis-à-vis the burden upon it.

"Your future plans. You have come into a great inheritance," Beerus elaborated, tapping a finger against Vegeta's broken breastbone, "A body stronger than you could ever have imagined. So what do you plan on doing?"

What would Ternyp's desires be? And, more importantly, what did Beerus want him to say? His marginal hesitation cost him, however, as veins of lightning flickered between Beerus' fingers before surging into his body.

Vegeta's vision went white, body arching, spasms jerking his limbs as he hollered with agony. In that same city, his clone dispersed suddenly, book and daughter dropping to the carpeted floor. Electric pain erupted in a vicious torrent, burning everywhere it leapt, running like a rushing river through his body.

Until it stopped suddenly, and Vegeta slumped against the bed, chest aching as he fought for breath. After being pushed up and down for a few moments, Beerus lowered his hand, pressing down on Vegeta's sternum, preventing him from satisfying his lungs. The sounds of his shallow panting filled the room as Vegeta realised he could no longer hear the reassuring, regular blips of the heart monitor. Unable to see behind him, he could only guess that the electrical surge had short-circuited the equipment.

"Your plans," Beerus emphasised, yellow forks sparking up from his fingers threateningly.

"I just want…to go back…to my planet," he gasped, chest straining ineffectually against Beerus' hand.

"Really," Beerus answered, "That's really you're next move?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe you." At least the cat god seemed calmer at a supposed lie than he had been before, but Vegeta still expected to be tortured for the 'truth'. He did want to return to normal life on his planet, though, if only the universe would allow him to. "You now possess more power than anyone could ever want. More than anyone would know what to do with. The possibilities for you are endless. And you mean to tell me you want to return to a hermit's life, even though Gemuse's instincts scream in your mind?"

"Yes."

Vegeta let out a roar as lightening surged through him, body convulsing violently, losing control of his bladder and bowels in what would be an embarrassing cascade once he regained sensibility. Senses shot, Vegeta could see nothing, hear nothing, and feel nothing except the pain which rushed through him, setting his nerves alight.

And then it was over, Vegeta slumping, motionless onto the bed as he tried to get his breath back.

Tried being the key word, as Beerus pressed his hand down even further, forcing Vegeta's burning lungs to make do with tiny slivers of air which puffed in and out in quick succession. His heart roared against the hand, as if launching an ineffectual attack, pounding hard and desperate.

And occasionally syncopating.

"Tell me the truth, Gemuse," Beerus growled.

"…is…truth…" Vegeta panted.

"You have the instincts of a saiyan. You have already intimated to me that you intend to rekindle your relationship with the prince. You have demonstrated an inclination towards altruism, defending Universe 7 with more ferocity than someone who did not care about others would. And you mean to tell me you plan to disappear back into the hermit life, content to let others war amongst themselves, letting other atrocities go unanswered while you spend your hours alone on a god-forsaken planet? Don't lie to me, Gemuse."

Vegeta's lungs had stopped screaming and had taken to desperate begging, supplicating his body for oxygen that it simply couldn't provide. His limbs were broken and useless, his chest shattered, and he had no energy to save himself.

"…air…" he couldn't keep up, couldn't maintain the pace of his poor-excuses for breaths, lungs slowing against his will, internal muscles simply too weak.

"What was that?"

"…air…"

"No," Beerus wagged a finger at him, as if he were a naughty child, "No, I won't let up until you tell me the truth."

His lungs burned.

"…will…protect…prince…"

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere," Beerus congratulated, "so you can have a little relief."

Vegeta let out a low moan as his lung capacity increased, heart thumping wildly to supply the oxygenated blood.

"So, Gemuse, the prince."

The prince in question remained silent, drinking in air.

"I am speaking!" Vegeta jerked as his body was shocked, "You will answer me!"

"What is the question?" Vegeta moaned.

"You intend to maintain contact with the prince?" Beerus pressed.

"Yes."

"And how will you accomplish that?"

"Telepathic link."

"So I suppose, then, that you will help him if he requests aid."

"Of course."

Vegeta spasmed as another second's worth of electricity shot through him.

"Do not mock me," Beerus warned, the prince lamenting his sensitivity. He hadn't meant what he had said as derision. It was simply a statement of fact.

"You are very loyal, then, to this prince of yours."

"Yes."

"You will come when called."

"Yes."

"But do you intend to do anything on your own? Vigilante work?"

"I have not given it much thought," Vegeta responded truthfully.

Beerus obviously did not like this answer, giving his victim another round of electrical torture as he screamed.

Finally falling still, Vegeta struggled to return air to his lungs, drawing in desperate inhalations accompanied by much wheezing. Blood pounded in his ears to the rhythm of his heart as it thundered on.

The uneven rhythm. Vegeta didn't think all the shocks were good for it, especially not in its condition.

"I might…" he conceded.

"You might."

ZZAP!

"AARGH!"

Vegeta's throat burned as he hollered to the freshly cleaned ceiling, body convulsing uncontrollably. An indeterminable amount of seconds later he slumped back against the sweat-coated sheets, wheezing horribly. Tingling assaulted his extremities as various muscles continued to spasm long after the shock ended.

His heart propelled itself against its assailant, skin vibrating with the force of its irregular beats.

"You might take it upon yourself to deal with external threats to the universe, even though that is my job?"

Vegeta frowned at him, thinking that Beerus had never shown an inkling before of actually fulfilling his role, but 'Ternyp' wouldn't know that.

"I don't mean to replace you," he tried, but Beerus merely electrocuted him again, causing his body to vibrate like a jack-hammer as his eyes rolled into his head.

Crumpling with laboured breaths, Vegeta found he could no longer control his body. His limbs were not responding to direction, lying dormant or twitching as was their want without any input from his brain.

"I don't…understand…" he gasped, "what the…problem is."

"Well, it's more the fact that you exist than anything else," Beerus admitted, "But I don't like the thought of you gallivanting around performing acts of mercy and upsetting the balance of the universe."

"You let… prince do such things. He has said—"

"That's different! He's a mortal! You're not! You're not supposed to be involved in their affairs! It isn't your job!"

"Then what is…my job?"

Beerus paused, "Do you know what?" he looked away in thought, "I'm not sure. I suppose we'll have to consider it, won't we? You used to think of your role as someone who played with the lives of mortals. Obviously that can't continue."

"No," Vegeta whispered.

"Perhaps a God of Destruction?" Whis suggested from the sidelines.

"No!" Vegeta and Beerus answered at the same time, the thought of causing more destruction, of annihilating 'failed' civilisations making Vegeta feel wretchedly ill.

"No," Beerus continued, "He will not engage in such activities! Certainly not as sanctioned by the powers that be!"

Beerus let out a long breath, "Well, I suppose we'll both have to give the matter some thought. The old Gemuse certainly didn't confine himself by rules and expectations, so we are in uncharted territory here. You used to be a mortal. It's natural that you would want to involve yourself in their affairs more than you ought."

Vegeta gazed at Beerus steadily, wondering why he was being so reasonable. Wondering when the other shoe would drop.

"I guess I shall have to make allowances for that. Whis?"

"I believe it is up to Lord Gemuse to decide his role for himself, my lord," Whis replied, "He does not have a defined position within the balance of the universe at present."

"If the angels have no stance on it, then I suppose vigilante work is acceptable," Beerus traced his chin.

Vegeta let out a soft breath of air, listening to the palpitations of his heart, wondering what to do about the issue. It wasn't good, he knew that much, but until Beerus left he would not be able to summon assistance.

"I should leave you to rest, shouldn't I?" Beerus considered, one hand still resting on his ribs, where it had been during the entire discussion, "You need it, don't you?"

Vegeta was not sure where this was going, but he was certain he would not like the destination.

"Yes," he answered, trying to focus on the ceiling. His vision was a little blurry.

"Indeed, you need to rest, because you are still so terribly injured. It seems surprising that such a terrifying, immortal being is confined to a hospital bed. I'm astounded that you haven't healed yourself yet and made your escape. Did my assault yesterday really weaken you that much?"

Vegeta gulped, limbs twitching as his heartbeat continued to syncopate loudly in his ears. It made it all the more difficult to hear Beerus as he continued.

"Yes, I seem to have injured you more than I thought. You're still here, a little better than yesterday but not excessively so. I wonder…"

He jolted his victim.

"I wonder if I can prevent you from recovering at all. If I can keep you incapacitated until the end of time, or at least, until the end of my lifetime. I can't kill you. But can I trap you in a continuous cycle of damage?"

Vegeta wished he could breathe faster, wished he could satisfy his thundering heart as it lost itself to panic. An eternity of pain and suffering, recovering only to be hurt again and again, never gaining the strength to challenge Beerus, one of the strongest Gods of Destruction. No one else powerful enough, or willing (in the case of Whis), to aid him. Unable to spend the time he wanted with his family, perhaps never seeing them ever again. Yes, that sounded very much like Hell.

"I could simply kill you over and over again, like I could have prevented them from repairing you to begin with," Beerus considered, "But that won't do. I need you conscious. I need you cognisant of all the pain I inflict on you. And maybe, maybe, after a long, long time, you will have paid the price for your transgressions."

His eyes narrowed, leaning over Vegeta with a snarl.

"I'll give you just a taste of the suffering you caused."

ZZAP!

"This is for my mother!"

Electrical current surged through him, limbs and head flopping uselessly, smacking aside the broken equipment which surrounded him, poles and machines falling with a clatter and smashing onto the floor. Again, the cage was flung off, embedding itself into the opposite wall with the force of Vegeta's seizure. The bed cracked underneath him, wheels snapping off as the furniture bounced.

As for the victim, he was drowning in a sea of agony, unable to break the surface for air, unable to find reprieve. Nothing could compare to the pain he was feeling, nerve endings ablaze and muscles screaming, internal organs burning within him. The anguish was so encompassing that he did not notice that he could no longer breathe, he did not notice as his scream died off, lungs empty, mouth still wide open as his lungs deflated completely.

GASP!

Beerus let up a moment, commenting, though Vegeta could no longer hear it, that he wasn't interested in him dying just yet. That he had more pain to feel.

The screaming seemed to egg Beerus on further rather than satisfying him, reminding him of the way his mother had cried out as she was raped. Her tears filled his vision as he sought his revenge, screams echoing in his mind, warping and twisting.

"Please! Mercy, Please!"

How he had simply licked his lips and descended on her.

How she had struggled.

How she had screamed.

GASP

ZZAP!

Vegeta's cognitive processes had shut down completely, aware only of pain. Losing all control of his body, he voided the last of his internal contents into the nappy the nurses had placed on his rear end which he had refused to rely on.

GASP

ZZAP!

Tears filled Beerus' eyes, rolling down his cheeks as he remembered his kind-hearted mother taken too soon. As he remembered her decapitated body, and what Gemuse had done with her open throat after he had finished down below. He remembered how his sister had held both brothers down as they fought to avenge their mother, even though they were far too weak for such a venture.

GASP

ZZAP!

Pain, so much pain.

Pain anywhere and everywhere.

Everything was agony.

Anguish became the universe, seconds and minutes passing as all Vegeta knew was pain.

It even followed him down into the blackness of oblivion.

...

ZZAP!

There was nothing quite so disturbing as not having a heartbeat, not that Vegeta was in any state to consider this fact. His mind was awash with pain and panic, desperately trying to use his lungs to stimulate his heart.

Needless to say, it wasn't working.

And neither were his attempts to burrow his way into his own chest.

He could hear voices in the distance, on the edge of his awareness as instinct took over, sending him tumbling to the floor. But no amount of struggling would rouse his motionless heart. No amount of clawing, and slamming himself into the tiles would move it.

And nothing could quench the agony of its stationary cries within him, burning with constant flame even as it lay still.

He had never felt anything like it before. He had thought, upon waking after his immolation, that what he felt then was the worst a mortal could experience. But the problem was that he was immortal, and things didn't end for him like they would for a mortal. No, he had to endure.

This was a thousand times worse than the experience of being jammed with some sort of human medicine that tender area not so long ago. Worse than the explosion itself.

He shouldn't have been conscious, even if his mind wasn't working properly. He shouldn't have been cognisant at all, but he was, and he was paying the price for it.

If only he could die like a normal person.

He just wanted to die.

Ternyp!