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.

Congratulating himself on summoning a clone a few metres away from him, and therefore out the window and away from Bulma's sight, Vegeta flew at a sedate pace towards his home, participating in conversation with Bulma. He banked and reeled as she levelled her accusations, never realising that she was speaking with the untoward husband himself. He couldn't believe she would think such things of him. Did she really trust his word so little?

And why was he still so surprised at his wife's eternal capriciousness?

Wondering how best to address the issue, Vegeta allowed himself to fall silent, concentrating on his clone as he descended onto the property. Trunks was outside doing juvenile things that Vegeta both abhorred and wished he had possessed the opportunity to do as a child, and his mother-in-law was watering her plants with a seemingly bottomless watering can.

"Vegeta, darling!" she exclaimed, hat flying off as she rushed towards him, "We've been so worried!"

Panchy enveloped him in a hug, moving to kiss his cheek.

"Dad!"

Vegeta turned towards his son's voice, noting the relief in it, cursing himself for worrying his family so and –

He recoiled in horror as wet lips met his own.

Gagging, Vegeta turned away, spitting onto the ground as Trunks yelled out "Gross!"

"Well, that wasn't what I intended but I won't say I minded," his mother-in-law tittered as Vegeta sunk to his knees, hiding his burning face in his hands.

"You're so handsome, after all. Such a dashing young man," Panchy continued, somehow managing to continue her garden maintenance with her eyes closed, "but I wouldn't dream of stealing my Bulma's man. So, just eye candy, okay?"

Vegeta groaned into his palms as his son laughed.

Vegeta wasn't entirely sure what the phrase 'cheating on me' meant, but he was certain that it wasn't good, and it had something to do with the accusations of an affair.

He also wasn't sure what to do. His wife was separating from him, crushing his heart with every glare, every cold word, every time she turned her back on him. She had turned his own son against him, indictments and anger hurting him as much as every punch. His father-in-law was returning to that behaviour of evasion and coolness which he had employed as Vegeta and Bulma had fought, or, more correctly, Bulma had fought with him, after the prince had made a terrible decision with Babidi. Fortunately, Panchy still had no idea of the cause of his distress, although she had noticed.

He was losing his family. Bulma was hardening her heart towards him and his son would not listen to his defence, even though he had been a witness to the episode which had led to one of Bulma's key points of evidence for her allegations. The man he looked up to as a father, more paternal than his own had been, was avoiding him with an unyielding gaze. And he didn't want to imagine how his mother-in-law was going to react when Bulma eventually plucked up the courage to tell her.

He wasn't sure where all of this was going, what Bulma was planning. Surely she wasn't going to allow their 'relationship', if it could be called that at the moment, to continue. Surely she would be moving to separate from him, to divorce, to evict him from the only home he had known since his planet was destroyed.

He wasn't looking forward to that.

There had to be something he could do to prevent it, to patch up their relationship. But he couldn't tell her the truth. There were so many reasons why he couldn't. Firstly, the First One had bequeathed him a whole host of despicable sins which he did not expect Bulma to respond to in a forgiving manner. He hadn't exactly broken his promise not to repeat his past actions – he had not committed anything malicious in the time since that vow, but he had acquired additional crimes from his own past. Would Bulma continue to view him the same way after discovering the perpetual darkness of his soul? Would she respond like Beerus, blaming him for the blood on his hands? After how she had reacted to his dream, he no longer trusted in her charity.

Secondly, he had broken a promise to her, namely, that he would always return to her, that he would always be 'retrievable'. It had been their compromise after he could not guarantee that he would not die again (although that would be a pledge to achieve now), when she had been grieving his death before he confessed his culpability to her, precipitating a bitter fall-out. But his body was a cauterised husk surely disintegrated in the lonely cosmos. It had seemed a good idea at the time, helping him with his ruse when he couldn't think straight. But he would not be able to recover it. Not only that, but hearing that he had exploded himself again was certain to traumatise her. She had been quite bitter about that episode as well.

Thirdly, he had failed to admit any of this to her, had kept every problem, every change a secret. The longer the duration of his secrecy, the worse the offence against their partnership. He demonstrated to her that he didn't trust her, which, he had to admit, he didn't. Not really, not after how she had reacted to his nightmare, not after how she failed to believe his assertion that there had been no intrigue, that there was no one apart from her. He wasn't sure she would forgive him keeping something so huge from her, not with how she was responding to his silence over his disappearances.

Fourthly, and now the most important of his excuses, there was the matter of Beerus. Vegeta did not imagine Bulma would be able to keep silent, would play her role like Merus and Whis had managed to. She was too stubborn, too hard headed, and would respond violently to reason number 5 when given the opportunity. He knew she would defend him, and he could not afford for her to be involved. It was calamitous enough that she was 'Vegeta's' hostage; if Beerus found out he could use her to harm the First One directly…he shuddered at the mere thought. It was different to Beerus' use of Vegeta – where 'Ternyp' had only one person he was close to, Beerus had to allow 'Vegeta' to live so that the threat had merit, since as soon as he was dead, Beerus would have nothing to hold over him. But Vegeta had three close family members, and numerous others he cared about. His wife or one of his children could be killed and he would still be cowed by the threat to the rest.

Lastly, she absolutely could not know that she had witnessed her own husband's torture. That the voice she had heard cry in pain was his own. That the heart she had seen crushed, abused and finally stopped was his. That it was he who had suffocated through Beerus' negligence. That it was he who had been electrocuted and killed, his corpse she had reinvigorated. How could she cope with that knowledge? From his recollection, close family members did not handle such experiences well according to any definition. The spectrum ranged from endless crying, swearing violent and suicidal revenge, skipping the first part and simply taking their own life to hiding away their emotions until...they ended up like him. Highly undesirable.

He had to win her back somehow, though, he had to. He might not be able to die anymore, but he couldn't live without her now.

He wasn't sure what to make of his wife's words. She had questioned his ability to reform, failed to object when he considered himself doomed eternally the night before. But with Ternyp she was different. With Ternyp, she considered him redeemable, she highlighted that he had no choice under Frieza, that he had been unwilling. She emphasised that he was not to blame for the First One's deeds.

Should he believe her? Would she not blame him for the heinous things the First One had done, were he to tell her once Beerus had safely departed? Or would it be just another nail in the coffin of his dead heart as she rejected him, believing him to be incurably evil? Would she change her stance if she realised it was he, and not the long deceased Ternyp, who possessed the degenerate soul of the First One?

"Are you alright, Vegeta dear?" his mother-in-law asked, Vegeta not resisting as she eased his head from his hands and felt his forehead with her wrist.

"You don't seem unwell," she commented, taking the seat opposite him. Vegeta dropped his head back into his palms, elbows resting on the table in his wife's kitchen, feeling far away.

"Vegeta?"

He didn't know how to answer her, didn't know what to say. Panchy had always been one of his biggest supporters, his comforter when things went sour with Bulma, always trying to cheer him up and bring them back together.

"It seems to me as if you and my daughter are in a tiff," she remarked.

'In a tiff'. Well, she wasn't exactly wrong, but it was a bit of an understatement, and he told her as much.

"Oh no, dear, I wouldn't say that. This is par for the course for both of you. Bulma loves you deeply, you must realise that."

"I am not so sure."

"Nonsense," Panchy avowed, "Bulma is over the moon about you-"

Vegeta snorted.

"- and I completely understand why. If I were a few years younger-"

"You're married."

"-and unattached…but I suppose I'll have to make do with that sweet Ternyp. He's single, isn't he?"

"You're married!"

"I'm just going to look," she slapped his arm playfully, "But enough about my dalliances, we're talking about you and Bulma. What has gotten into the two of you?"

"At first, Bulma thought I was having an affair."

"No!" she gasped, "You? Impossible!"

"And now she's just mad about the secrets, I think. I…" he fell silent, not being able to communicate their mutual assumptions over the evil nature of his soul.

"Oh dear! Can't you tell her the truth?"

"I'm afraid that isn't an option," Vegeta sighed, "It's too dangerous."

"Worth risking your marriage over?"

"Her life is worth more to me than her love. If she wants to live free from me, then as long as she is indeed alive, I…I shall survive."

"Vegeta, darling," his mother-in-law rubbed his upper arm tenderly, "Surely it isn't that bad."

"I'm afraid it is."

"But you must do something, dear. The two of you are falling apart. Even I can see that, and I walk around with my eyes closed!"

"You need to fight back," she stressed, "take the fight to her, come off the defensive."

"You think I should accuse her instead?" he balked.

"Well, perhaps not. Not unless there is something about her behaviour which is driving you away."

How could he possibly condemn Bulma over her lack of forgiveness when he could not absolve himself?

"But you need to do something, something active, rather than sitting here with me lamenting your hard luck."

"What can I do?" he fretted, "She won't listen to me, and I'm not sure she'll believe a word I say."

"Why not write, then?"

"I'm sorry?" Vegeta's head came up so that he could gaze incredulously at his mother-in-law.

"Write her a letter," Panchy elaborated.

"Write her…I suppose it couldn't hurt to try," he mused.

The moment Beerus walked into his room Vegeta had been unable to concentrate properly on two separate existences.

And the moment Beerus struck him he lost his clone altogether, pitching sideways off the bed in a tumble of medical instruments. At least he was not completely helpless this time, face stinging as he rolled out of the way of the piece of furniture he had been lying on not a second before. Beerus was faster than the force of gravity, though, descending on him with speed and launching him into the wall with a kick to the stomach.

"That area's still sensitive," he acknowledged as Vegeta slumped to the floor with a groan.

"Looks like I can still affect you. That's good to know."

"You already killed me," Vegeta complained, "What more do you want?"

"Pain, Gemuse. I want you to feel pain."

"I am feeling pain. You can go away."

"Not enough," Beerus objected, batting Vegeta's hands away with his tail and delivering a cruel blow to his abdomen, causing the prince to cry out and roll into a ball.

As Beerus forced Vegeta's upper and lower body apart, he commented, "You've gotten stronger. Yet you're still too weak."

SLAM!

"ARRGGH!" Vegeta roared, kicking at Beerus with a broken leg. The feline deity deftly blocked him, jolts of pain leaping up the limb as Vegeta hollered again.

"I wouldn't try to fight back," Beerus recommended, "You'll only hurt yourself more. So actually, be my guest."

Vegeta glared at his tormentor, receiving a punch to the stomach as Beerus held his chest down with one hand and his hips with a foot.

SLAM!

"AARGHH!"

"Your screams are like music to my ears," Beerus remarked.

"Then just record them!"

"That," Beerus considered, "is not a bad idea."

WHAM!

This time Vegeta remained silent, breathing heavily through his teeth instead.

"Oh Gemuse," Beerus commiserated, "don't make me work for it."

WHACK!

He couldn't hold it in, mouth opening wide as he yelled at the ceiling.

"Much better," Beerus complemented, "Keep going like that."

"Sadist," Vegeta spat back.

"Only for you, Gemuse," Beerus reassured, "only for you."

WHACK!

"AARGH!"

"Beautiful."

After an eventful day, Vegeta was glad to be spending some time simply alone in his own company. And that was, strange as it seemed to Vegeta, quite literally true. Bulma always said he preferred to keep his own counsel, but this certainly stole the cake. Seated beside 'Ternyp', typing away at his unlikely-to-be seminal work, Vegeta was slightly disturbed by his own self. On the one hand, neither set of limbs worked properly, being broken in multiple places and wrapped in plaster and plastic, and on the other, his clone demonstrated a perfectly normal array of functions. At the same time as his arms throbbed dully in the back of his awareness, another set were absorbed in immortalising his thoughts on digital paper. His legs both supported a laptop and ached as they could take no weight at all.

This cloning business perturbed him.

Another aspect of military service under the Cold Empire was the inoculation process.

He hadn't been looking forward to recording this part of saiyan history; had been procrastinating about it for some weeks now, in fact, even though it was such a crucial aspect of the tale. What he had composed thus far was an extremely detached overview the saiyan army, including divisions, units, roles and dates for their service.

He really hadn't wanted to go into any detail. Hadn't wanted to recall anything in a way that might bring back those terrible emotions which had occasionally paralysed him, or else caused him to lose all common sense in his righteous rage.

But it had to be done.

This process was exclusive to elites, whose survival rate at 95%, compared to the middle class rate of 50% and lower class rate of 16%, was deemed high enough for general application.

His hands shook as an image flashed before his eyes, pins pricking into his skin. A room of unrelieved white, with only a utilitarian bathroom and no other comforts. He remembered the fear, the terror which had gripped him as he recalled the fate of one of his cousins, despite the high success rate. 5% was not negligible.

He could have died, and in the midst of the agony he felt, he had thought it inevitable.

But the process had doubtless saved his life later. At one point, all the residents of one mothership he was stationed on had contracted a highly infectious disease, and over three quarters had succumbed to it. Vegeta, however, did not even develop symptoms, and tested negative when rescue crews had finally arrived.

Nevertheless, Vegeta had taken even greater care to cover himself up after that point, in spite of his already modest (by saiyan standards) attire as befitting a prince. Prior to that experience, he had allowed himself to change out of his regal garb, Frieza not having deprived him of his cape at that point, when in the privacy of his shared quarters.

Even though he had been in no danger, the hyper-vaccinations, as they were known, rendering him immune to almost all diseases by way of saiyan genetics boosting his immune system for all ailments even if exposed to only a few (using similar means to the zenkai boost), he had been shaken as he watched colleague after colleague fall.

Both Raditz and Lettice had contracted the virus, and only one had survived. Without proper medical assistance, most doctors and nurses falling ill and all of the medical tanks filled with higher ranking staff, Vegeta had been tasked with nursing both of them back to health.

Needless to say he had not been trained nor skilled in the art, and had failed one of them. He shuddered as he remembered waking up to only one set of breathing.

Diseases were a common danger for Frieza's forces, being exposed to foreign ailments from contact with a multitude of different planets, and illness spreading quickly in the motherships' confined spaces.

Vegeta erupted from the depths of sleep, snapping upright with wide eyes as three familiar and powerful presences drew him back to consciousness. After his incident with drowning, healing his clone and suffering his limbs being re-plastered, including a solemn declaration that his arm had been re-broken, Vegeta had sunk like a submarine as soon as he hit the sheets. Based on the position of the shadows of the room's furniture, it was now late afternoon.

And Beerus, Whis and Merus were outside his door.

They didn't even bother to knock.

"Ternyp," Beerus addressed him, using his assumed name for the first time since the prince had concocted it, making Vegeta blink in surprise, "I came to tell you that we are leaving."

"Leaving?" Vegeta's mind, still trapped in the lingering tendrils of sleep, struggled to process this abrupt turnaround.

"Yes, leaving. I see no reason to remain now that I no longer believe you to be a threat. Mind you," his expression darkened, "if you ever come after me, for whatever reason, be it revenge or in response to my duties, your prince will suffer the consequences, understood?"

"I understand," Vegeta replied solemnly, imagining, in order to create the correct reaction, that it was Bulma being threatened.

"Where is he, anyway?"

"Resting," at Beerus' blank look he continued, "He drowned."

"Huh. Well, nevertheless, no matter what he might call you to deal with, I don't want to ever see you on my planet. I don't care who you are now, I won't tolerate it."

Vegeta nodded.

"Good, well, if all that's cleared up, I suppose we ought to take our leave."

"Take care, Ternyp," Merus piped up before anyone could move to silence him.

"I shall," Vegeta acknowledged him with another nod.

Beerus grasped Merus' elbow, steering him from the room as he hissed, "Just because I don't see him as the enemy, doesn't mean I want you fraternising with him, got it?"

"Yes, my lord," the angel-in-training answered meekly.

As the two exited, Whis came over to Vegeta's bedside, looking down at his injured student from his greater height.

"I don't want to see you blowing yourself up again," he said in a low voice.

"I didn't know you cared," Vegeta replied blandly.

"I try not to, but I cannot help becoming invested. Do try to follow Merus' advice, won't you?"

"What can I say? I am still a saiyan."

"I thought as much," Whis sighed, before Beerus' distant voice called him.

"I am not the person you think I am," he admitted, seeing Bulma more clearly in the dark than she could him. Her face showed her confusion as she blinked at him, trying to decipher the meaning of his words.

"Not the person…you mean, you're a different kind of person than I think you are?"

That would perhaps be the preferable answer, but-

"No. I believe you are rather accurate in your beliefs on that, but, tell me something, before we go on."

She was frowning at him.

"Did you mean it when you said that Ternyp was not responsible for the First One's actions?" he asked.

"Of course. But what has that got to do with anything?"

"Everything, Bulma."

Now, how was he going to phrase this? Unfortunately, Bulma interrupted his thought process.

"Wait," Bulma whispered, "if you aren't figuratively not who I think you are, then you must be literally not who I think you are."

Her eyes were wide as she asked, "Are you, or are you not, Prince Vegeta IV, heir to the saiyan throne?"

"Well, no, tech—"

He wasn't able to finish as a pillow connected with his jaw.

"What the Hell?! Who are you?! Get out of my bed! Where is my husband?!"

Each exclamation was punctuated by the impact of pillow on face, irritating Vegeta more than hurting him.

"I am your—"

"Where is he?!" Bulma bulldozed over the top of his reasonable response, "What have you done with him?!"

"I haven't—"

"How long have you been here, pretending to be him?! How long?!"

She paused her assault momentarily.

"Oh my gosh, that's what you meant, wasn't it?! Your talk about Gemuse's actions! You're Ternyp!"

How had she figured that one out?

"Yes, I suppose I—"

But again, she overruled him with her voice.

"I knew it! All the vanishing! It all coincided! And you've been acting differently since…Oh no! When did you come here?!"

"Bulma—"

"That's 'Miss Bulma' to you, stranger, and get out of my bed!"

Vegeta critiqued the universe, pleading with the ceiling for patience and calm as he remembered that it was she who had volunteered to forgo the comfort of their sheets if she didn't like what he had to say.

"No," he answered simply.

"Leave!" she emphasised her ejaculation by pointing forcefully towards the door.

Why was he always being kicked out of his own bedroom? Well, he wasn't about to give in that easily this time. But how to dissuade her? He considered that an unexpected interjection had blindsided her enough to say his piece last time.

"Ternyp is dead!" he announced abruptly, and hurriedly, gratified to see her pause, finger still crooked towards the exit.

"Huh?"

"Ternyp," Vegeta enunciated, "is dead."

"But how? Who? Who are you, then? And who is he?"

"Perhaps it would be better if I began from the start. If you would allow me to speak uninterrupted?"

She deflated like a balloon, sitting back on her hunches and crossing her arms like a sullen child.

"We begin our tale with the escape of Eucalypt and her kidnapping of the First One. I accompanied—"

"This isn't the start!" Bulma objected hotly, "Tell me how you came to insert yourself into my husband's life!"

"I am your husband."

"You…?" she blinked rapidly, "But then…have you been lying to me this whole time about who you are?"

"No. Allow me to continue my story, and you will understand."

She harrumphed at him, giving him an almost tangible glare, but allowing him blessed silence.

"As I was saying, I accompanied Kakarot, Gohan, Jaco and his fellows to Frieza Planet 95. There I initially confronted Eucalypt alone, but as I was subduing her, the First One appeared, and I fought with him. He killed me."

"He what?!" Vegeta felt the impact of the pillow yet again as Bulma shrieked, "You idiot! You moron! How dare you die on me?!"

"Bulma. Settle down."

Reluctantly, she withdrew her implement, pouting at him as he was given permission to resume.

"I woke up in the First One's body."

"You—"

"Bulma."

"Sorry."

"Eucalypt then accosted me with my corpse, which I…ah…cauterised. Then I accidentally decapitated her. Unfortunately, I wasn't thinking very well at the time, and agreed with Gohan's suggestion of a secretive disposal, since I determined that if I were to hide this change from potential enemies, particularly Beerus and Champa, then I would need to substitute my body for the First One's, given that they are practically identical in stature. As a consequence, the body of Prince Vegeta IV is lost in the vast cosmos between Frieza Planet 95 and Earth. I'm…sorry, Bulma."

"Your…your body is…"

"Gone."

He watched her face fell as the full implications hit her, twisting her hands amongst the sheets as she dropped her devastating pillow.

"You're…" she struggled for words, "but you look exactly like him."

"An illusion, nothing more. I believe there are some friends of yours capable of the same."

"Oh."

She paused.

"But then…Ternyp…"

"I am both 'Ternyp' and Vegeta. This is a clone."

He allowed her a few moments for the revelations to sink in, taking a few gulps of water from his bedside table as he waited. There would be an explosion of some sort coming, of that he was certain.

"You should have told me."

There she went. Giving him those impossibly large, blue eyes are she beseeched him.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"With how you reacted after my nightmare? You have no idea what the First One has done."

"It doesn't matter, Vegeta. He's not you."

"I know how you feel, now. But I didn't then."

Bulma reached out towards him, stroking her hand down his biceps as she spoke.

"I stand by what I said to the one I thought was Ternyp. You are not to blame for the actions of your past life. Those memories weren't repressed at all, were they?"

"They were not," he admitted, "They are the First One's. He…he did a great deal of terrible things."

"But he isn't you," she insisted, "He isn't. You're Vegeta."

He sighed.

"I'm Vegeta."

She gave him a gentle pat.

The door to 'Ternyp's' room slammed open, drawing him from the safe confines of sleep in the middle of the night. In the darkness, he could see his wife standing in the threshold, seeming…

Distressed.

"Vegeta!"

The light came on, revealing her bedhead in all its glory.

Along with red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Seeing that did strange things to his heart that he still, after so many years together, didn't understand.

"Bulma," he whispered, rising with the help of his core, swinging his cast-coated legs off the bed. But she hastened to his side, a quelling hand on his shoulder as he moved to hover.

"I shouldn't even be here," she whispered, as if talking to herself, "you need to rest. But…"

She turned to face him, squatting down until they were eyelevel.

"I had to see you. To make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine, Bulma. I will finish off the healing process today."

"I know, I just…" she trailed off, settling herself beside him on the bed, making it dip with their combined weights.

"It was you."

"I'm sorry?" he blinked.

"It was you."

He shifted to face her, taking in the glisten of saltwater in her eyes, the hunch of her shoulders and subdued squeezing of her hands. As he watched, she shuddered slightly, a tear slipping down her cheek.

"Oh, Bulma," he whispered, cupping her hands in his own restricted ones, letting some of his ki warm them both. He knew exactly what she meant, what she was trying and failing to convey.

He had feared this realisation keenly.

"You were tortured in front of me," she breathed, "You were killed in front of me. Vegeta," she hiccupped, "I saw your corpse."

"I'm sorry," was all he could think to say. She shifted, twisting to face him, head bowed. Reaching out a shaking hand, she placed her palm against his chest, over his heart.

"You're alive now, aren't you?" she whispered.

He did not mock her such an inane question, instead answering with solemnity, "I am."

Her fists closed around the material and, uncaring that it had yet to be washed, she brought her forehead against his pectorals.

Hard.

Snaking her other arm around his shoulders, her own began to quake, small shudders becoming greater until she let out an audible sob.

"It was you," she repeated, breathless, as Vegeta enfolded her against him, rocking her gently as he had done not so many nights before. He smoothed his hand over her tangled hair, making soothing sounds as he continued to rub her back.

"Vegeta," she sobbed, "It was you."