A month and a half ago…

It may have been his birthday, but Vegeta was hardly in the mood for celebrating.

He trudged up the stairs towards the apartment he shared with his younger brother that evening after work, his eyebrows drawn tightly together, his work boots and his loose work pants feeling unnaturally heavy. All he wanted to do was get changed and hit the gym, then kick his feet up with a cold bottle of beer while watching the primetime boxing match that was on that evening. He doubted he could even do that much without his thoughts going in dark directions from the letter he had received just a few days prior, but a man had to try.

At the very least, he was mildly consoled by the fact that he would be seeing his therapist soon. He could work through his moral dilemma there – keeping details close to the chest, of course.

The nice thing about working a manual labor job in construction was that he got a workout often. Even now, he could feel his dirtied white tank top – which had been pristine when he left for work that morning – clinging to his lower back in particular with his sweat. He was brooding as he got to the top floor, wondering if he should just skip the gym that day after all, when he opened the door to his apartment…

and was instantly greeted by a chorus yelling "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Vegeta flinched back in surprise, his free hand instinctively reaching for a gun he didn't have; but when he saw the four grins looking back at him, he sighed and walked inside, dropping his work bag near the door.

"What's all this?" he gruffly demanded, scowling. Nappa was there, a guy Vegeta had met on a security side gig he'd done a year prior; he was amusing enough that Vegeta had remained in touch, and they had become gym buddies. Raditz was also in attendance; with how close Vegeta had gotten to his brother over the years, they had struck up a decent camaraderie, on occasion even syncing up for drinks. Goku was grinning the most, the only one wearing a party hat. Vegeta rolled his eyes at him, then settled his dark and questioning gaze on his sheepish looking younger brother, Tarble.

"What? It's your birthday, Vegeta, of course I was going to do something!" Tarble said with a grin. His grin turned into a smirk as he added, "I would have invited more people, but I'm fairly sure these are your only friends."

Vegeta scoffed, then smacked his brother in the back of the head before Tarble could get out of reach.

"Shut up, nerd," he growled. Nappa and Raditz laughed as Goku came closer and offered Vegeta a beer, which he readily took. Tarble hoisted himself up so he was seated on the counter, a wide smile on his face.

"I ordered us some good food, and we can all hang out and watch the match tonight. I even got us a cake!" Tarble explained excitedly. Vegeta passed him an even look, which made Tarble cry out, "Oh come on! It's your 30th birthday, I just graduated from undergrad, and next year I'll likely be doing a rotation with my med school program, so I thought we'd make the best of it this year!"

"I mean, that may be what your brother wanted, but Nappa and I are just here for the food," Raditz laughed.

"Brothers are the worst, ain't they?" Goku told Vegeta with a chuckle. Vegeta grunted and chugged down a good portion of his beer, then left it on the counter.

"Fine," Vegeta sighed in defeat. "Just don't sing or any other bullshit," he grumbled.

"You know what you need, Vegeta?" Nappa asked, smirking. "A woman. That'll help you lighten up."

"I tried setting him up with one of my classmates!" Tarble announced, earning a glare from his older brother. "But he wasn't interested. Said she was 'too immature.'"

"All your idiot friends are," Vegeta snapped. "You don't start clearing them out of your life, you're going to be a doctor surrounded by morons, Tarble."

"You know," Goku said thoughtfully. "I have a coworker who I think you'd really like. Her name is Bulma; she's a detective, and smart as a whip too. She has blue hair and blue eyes, I bet you'd find her super attractive. Too bad she's got a boyfriend though, because I think you'd like her a lot…"

"Vegeta is only capable of loving his gun collection anyway," Raditz said with a laugh.

"Tch," Vegeta rolled his eyes, before glancing back at Goku with a scowl. "A word, Kakarot, in private?"

"Sure thing," Goku replied.

Nappa and Raditz went to sit on the sofa, arguing over what channel to watch before the match started. Tarble hopped off the counter, and this time evaded Vegeta trying to clap him again on the back of the head as he walked past.

They walked into Vegeta's master bedroom, with Goku closing the door behind them. Vegeta went over to the dresser as Goku sat on the edge of the bed.

"What's up, Vegeta?" he asked, his eyes curious as Vegeta rummaged through the top drawer. His friend removed a blank envelope, then walked over to Goku, who extended his hand to receive it.

Vegeta hesitated, scowling down at him. "You are not reading this as a cop, Kakarot. Understand?"

"Yeah, I get it," Goku answered, removing his party hat. Vegeta then handed him the envelope. Goku took it and read the letter it contained, his expression serious.

"What are you all doing to bring him down?" Vegeta asked quietly, crossing his arms over his chest. He did not want the others to potentially overhear, especially not his kid brother.

Goku finished reading and looked up. "Well, I work more street level, this is more up to the detectives. Still, I know we're doing as much as we can, but it's not easy. He's extremely well connected. Though, if you let me bring this to Bulma-"

"No," Vegeta replied, taking the letter out of Goku's hands. He shoved it back into the envelope, rougher than necessary. "He owns too many of you in WCPD," he growled.

"He doesn't own her, I promise. She's honest and by the books. Besides, what else are you going to do? You have to take this letter seriously-"

"You don't think I know that?" Vegeta bitterly demanded. "Ten fucking years I worked for that asshole before the Marines, thanks to my father. Don't lecture me on what needs to be taken seriously."

Goku lowered his gaze, one hand scratching the back of his head. He didn't know much about those years before Vegeta joined the Marines, but he knew that Frieza loved using children as soldiers and raising them within his ranks to ensure complete loyalty. With Goku's current line of work, he had never pressed Vegeta for more details, deciding to let the demons of the past, stay in the past. Still, seeing the things he had seen on his arrests, he could fill in the blanks.

"Then what are you going to do?" he finally asked.

Vegeta turned around, giving him his back, his gaze dropping to the envelope in his hands. There was a heavy silence between them, but they could hear the TV going and the others laughing on the other side of the door.

"I…I can't go back to that life," Vegeta quietly thought out loud. His eye was twitching from stress, making him rub it absently. "Tarble, he…he needs me. I'm all he's got, I'm working double shifts, triple shifts sometimes to help him with college, and now the kid is going to med school. Things are different now. I can't risk it, Kakarot."

"Vegeta, I really think Bulma can help you. She's been after him for a long time-"

"No," Vegeta cut in, shaking his head. "Even if she is honest, like you say, it won't end well. It never does, involving cops."

"I'm involved now, aren't I?"

Vegeta hesitated, then turned to face Goku. He looked at him with intense scrutiny, just as someone knocked loudly on the door.

"Hey birthday boy! We're going to have some cake now before the match!" Nappa yelled.

Vegeta glared at the closed door, exhaling through his nose. When he didn't seem like he was going to respond, Goku shouted back, "We'll be out in a minute!"

Goku then stood up and walked up to Vegeta, putting an arm around his shoulders and earning a wary look from his friend.

"Listen, Vegeta. Everything will work out. I'll help you out as much as I can, you know I will. We'll come up with a plan so you don't get mixed up with him again, a plan that keeps you and Tarble safe. But for tonight, just try to relax and enjoy your birthday, huh? Try not to worry about it, we'll figure it out."

Vegeta scowled and said nothing for a few long seconds, before his discomfort with the contact got the best of him and he shrugged Goku off.

"You go back out there. I'll be out soon, just going to take a quick shower," he gruffly said, turning and heading towards his private bathroom. Goku sighed, heading the opposite way towards the door to go back with the other guys.

"Kakarot."

Goku stopped and looked back, his hand on the doorknob. "Yeah?"

Vegeta's stare was intense. "This conversation doesn't leave this room, you understand?"

"No worries, I understand," Goku said with a nod, before leaving the room.

Vegeta stared at the door his friend had walked through. Goku was right – he was involved now, and Vegeta was suddenly not sure he wanted him to be. He had to tread carefully with Frieza's request to come work for him again, and involving someone who happened to be a cop seemed like a recipe for disaster. Things were dangerous enough already. He knew that Frieza would not take no for an answer.

No, it was best he handle this one alone.


"You haven't been here in some weeks, not since just after Tarble died. What brings you here now, Vegeta?"

Vegeta stared out of the large floor-to-ceiling windows, frowning as he held a hot cup of coffee in his hands. Though he would have preferred alcohol, he figured his therapist would not have been pleased had he shown up with a 12-pack of beer. He stayed silent at the question, preferring to gaze out into the clouded sky which was quickly darkening. Soft drops of rain were starting to fall – a storm was brewing, in more ways than one.

"Today would have been Tarble's birthday," Vegeta muttered after a long moment of silence. The look in his dark eyes was angry and resentful as he bitterly added, "He would have been 23 today, and no one even gives a shit. The world just keeps fucking turning."

"The world is indeed brutal and unfair. You know that better than most," the gruff voice replied.

Vegeta looked down for a moment, before turning around. He walked over to a seat across from his therapist, sitting down gingerly. He took a sip of his coffee, his intense gaze on the therapist he'd been seeing almost every week for the last four years. The therapy had been necessary immediately after his discharge from the Marines – the loss of his mother, the decade growing up while working for Frieza, the intensity of his military experience, an utterly unbearable father who only viewed him as a disappointment, and a rough transition back to civilian life, had apparently all culminated in post traumatic stress.

Still, Vegeta had absolutely refused to even contemplate a therapist at first, even when his symptoms started becoming dangerous - particularly when he interacted with his father. Tarble and Goku both had practically thrown him into the room with the therapist the very first time, unwilling to take no for an answer.

But then a peculiar thing started happening after several months of talking with the therapist. His anxiety started decreasing. Civilian life, a normal, non-criminal life, was no longer as daunting as it first seemed. He was able to control himself better if someone startled him, resisting the immediate urge to beat them bloody. The nightmares at night started to decrease both in frequency and intensity. And so Vegeta had begrudgingly continued the treatment, at first just to please his brother, but later for himself.

Plus his therapist was a straight-shooter named Piccolo, someone who could cut through the noise without a lot of sentimental bullshit, which was what he needed.

"Is everything alright? You seem stiff when you move," Piccolo commented, observing his patient carefully.

Vegeta's face darkened. Despite the bulletproof vest he had worn the previous night at his botched assassination attempt in the police precinct, his chest was sore and he was wearing deep bruises under his shirt from the gunshots Goku had fired into his chest.

"I got into a fight last night," he said dryly, before raising his coffee to his lips to take a sip.

Piccolo looked up from the notes he was taking, peering over his glasses at him. He could see the knuckles on Vegeta's right hand were bruised. "A fight? With who?"

"Some asshole who calls himself my friend."

"What triggered the fight?"

Vegeta took a larger drink this time. He reclined back, crossing one leg up over his knee. "Let's just say he disagrees with how I'm…coping…with Tarble's passing."

"He disagrees so much he is willing to fight you?"

"Like I said, he's an asshole. With what he did to me last night, he's made it much harder for me now to continue my work," Vegeta growled in annoyance.

"I see. And how are you coping? It has only been a month since your brother was gunned down."

Vegeta shrugged with indifference, looking away. "Had the funeral, then I got rid of our apartment, sold a lot of shit. Moved across town. Quit my job. Got a new one that keeps me busy at night. Just taking tonight off since it's my brother's birthday, but I will be back to work soon."

"That's a LOT of change in just a month."

"I move fast."

"Are you allowing yourself time to grieve?"

An image flashed through Vegeta's mind of him putting a bullet through the skull of Frieza's soldier behind the exploded bar. That was as close to grieving as he knew how. Vegeta shrugged again, raising his drink and finishing his coffee this time. He tossed the empty cup aside, into a small trash can.

"Maybe you could go visit the grave today. Pay your respects to Tarble on his birthday," Piccolo suggested. Vegeta's eye twitched at the mere suggestion.

"Maybe I would, if he and my mother weren't buried next to that piece of shit," Vegeta snarled.

"We always do come back to your father, don't we, Vegeta?" Piccolo said knowingly, earning a look of borderline hatred. "But are you really going to avoid Tarble like you often do with your mother, just because your father is there too?"

"If that old bastard wouldn't have gotten involved with the illegal shit he got involved in back then, my life would have been completely different," Vegeta sneered. "My mother and brother would probably still be alive. If you ask me, our lives would have been better if he'd gotten the cancer 20 years ago."

"Life doesn't make sense sometimes. Sometimes the bad live, and the good die. But we cannot change the past, we can only accept it, Vegeta."

Vegeta rolled his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation. Finally, he decided on changing the subject, sighing as he did.

"With it being Tarble's birthday today, I was thinking earlier about my last birthday, a couple weeks before Tarble was killed. Someone offered me help, but I made a decision that day not to accept it…if I had, maybe things with Tarble could have gone a different way. I thought I knew how to protect him but…" his voice trailed off as he shook his head in disappointment.

Piccolo looked concerned. "You blame yourself?" When Vegeta stayed silent, his eyes on the floor, Piccolo continued. "You must know that what happened to your brother is not your fault."

Vegeta swallowed before speaking. "I handled things wrong, and then my brother died, how isn't it my fault?" he asked, voice raspier than usual.

"You took care of him as much as you possibly could, his whole life. He looked up to you and respected you. You were a good brother to him, and you made the best decisions that you could. The only one responsible is the one who pulled the trigger."

"Hn," Vegeta grunted with indifference, his eyes on his jeans as he flicked a speck of lint off them. He lapsed into a long and brooding silence, not responding to that, until Piccolo finally broke the silence again.

"So what have you been doing since the funeral? You said you have a new job?"

Vegeta shrugged again. "I work in garbage now. Taking out the trash at night. It's therapeutic, makes me feel better," he gruffly replied, a morbid smirk tugging on his lips.

"Good," Piccolo nodded in approval. "And your personal relationships? Have you met with any of your friends, before this one you got into a fight with?"

"No, but…I did have a one night stand, a couple weeks ago," Vegeta admitted, his eyebrows drawing together as he scowled. Memories of that night played through his mind – gods, her hands and lips were so soft, so divine against his skin – with a growl and a shake of his head, he willed the memories away. "I saw her again yesterday."

"Oh?" Piccolo leaned forward, intrigued. "Did you speak to her yesterday?"

"Just for a few minutes."

"Are you interested in a relationship with her?"

Vegeta looked stunned by the question, and then he guffawed, humorlessly and bitterly. "A relationship? Her, with me? Tch." He waved a hand dismissively. "She would never be interested."

"I didn't ask if she would be interested. I asked if you are interested."

Vegeta shifted uncomfortably. "It doesn't matter. She would never approve of my work I'm doing right now."

"Again, not what I asked," Piccolo stated, earning a death glare from his patient and a frustrated exhale.

"I have…an interest," Vegeta relented as he scowled, his foot fidgeting. "But we…we are far too different. We come from different worlds. We are on opposing sides right now. Maybe in some other life, something could have happened, but in this one, it can't work."

"You are making a lot of assumptions. Let her get to know you. Maybe you can at least be friends."

Vegeta scoffed, shaking his head. "I can't be that woman's friend."

"Why not?" Piccolo asked. Vegeta gave him a pointed, "you've got to be kidding me" look, and Piccolo nodded in understanding. "Ah, I see. You feel strongly for this woman."

Vegeta growled, "Don't be absurd, I barely even know her!"

"It seems you know enough. Besides, you can get to know her better. What is stopping you?"

"I just…look, if she knew me, if she really knew me…the things I've done, the things I'm doing…she would hate me."

"Again, assumptions. You don't know that."

"No, that's the truth."

"Let her get to know you, the real you. The good, bad, and ugly. Then let her decide. That will be the real truth. Who knows? You may be surprised."

Vegeta frowned, pondering the mere possibility, just as his phone vibrated in his pocket. He grit his teeth when he pulled it out and saw that Goku had messaged him.

"Apologies, it's my asshole friend I got in the fight with. He wants to have me over, to talk about last night."

"You should go see him."

"Tch, not fucking likely," Vegeta snarled.

"Why not? Maybe he wants to apologize."

Vegeta sighed, then stood up, slipping on a black ballcap to hide his hair. "Look, I've got to go. I have business to take care of."

"Are you sure? You still have time on the clock."

"It's fine. My schedule is a little…turbulent these days," Vegeta muttered, scowling as he put his hands into his black hoodie pockets. "I'll reach out next time I want to pay you to give me shit again."

Piccolo smirked as he stood as well. "Well, you know how to find me. Take care of yourself, Vegeta."

Vegeta grunted, and walked out of the office and lobby, out into the rain. He jogged through the parking lot, ignoring the soreness of his chest, and then got into his van as quickly as he could to get out of the rain. He sighed, shoulders falling as he looked down, with only the myriad of handguns, rifles, and body armor in the back of the van keeping him company.

He was in North City, where he had spent the night in a cash-only motel in a dingy part of town. The eyewitness escaping the previous night meant that, to his knowledge, the cops likely had him in witness protection. This meant there was a high chance they knew who he was, and were now looking for him. The timing was also suspicious for Goku to be messaging him, wanting to see him. For all Vegeta knew, Goku could be trying to set him up so that Bulma and her team could bring him down.

But even if he wasn't, if the cops found out about him, then it was only a matter of time until Frieza did too, with the moles Frieza had in the police department of West City. Vegeta had even gone the extra step of calling the son of his landlady to give him an anonymous tip for him to go pick her up and get her out of the building, lest Frieza's men kill her while looking for him.

Vegeta reached up to pull down the sun visor. He plucked out the picture that was tucked there – it was him with his brother at Tarble's college graduation, just a few months ago. Tarble was in his cap and gown, grinning from ear to ear. Vegeta was even close to smiling in the picture.

He remembered how proud he had felt that day – he himself had needed two extra years just to finish high school, from losing so much time doing Frieza's bidding. Then he had gone to the military, where he had honed his lethal skills even further, even though he had paid with the trauma of war. His brother had been on a different trajectory entirely, and Vegeta was prepared to do everything possible to help him succeed.

In the end, though, it had all been for nothing.

He felt the guilt and grief both threatening to overwhelm his consciousness, and he forced the emotion back with expertise. After all, why grieve when one could have revenge? He stared at the picture a moment longer, then tucked it back into the sun visor, throwing the sun visor back up.

He then started up the van, and drove back towards West City.


It was dark by the time Vegeta got to the graveyard. He had resisted going, but he couldn't get his damn therapist's words out of his head, nor rid the absurd guilt he felt at the thought of not visiting on Tarble's birthday of all days. Birthdays were always such a big deal to Tarble, a "little brother feature" that Tarble had died before outgrowing. They had already been making plans to go on a camping expedition on his birthday, to fish, hike, and enjoy the great outdoors for a few days, just the two of them and mother nature.

Instead, it was just Vegeta alone in the rain. He got out from his van at the graveyard, scanning his surroundings. There was only one other car parked in the vicinity that Vegeta could see, and it was a car he recognized. He scowled at the sight of the car, muttering to himself, but he was already there so he figured he may as well go on ahead.

Still, he got a handgun from the back of the van and tucked it behind his jeans, just in case. With that, and with the body armor he wore underneath his hoodie, he would have some protection if things got hairy.

Moments later, Vegeta came up to his family plot. He grit his teeth a little at the sight of the other man who was already standing in front of Tarble's tombstone, but came up next to the man anyway.

They stood together in silence for five whole minutes, staring at the tombstone as the rain grew heavier, until the taller man spoke first.

"It would have been Tarble's birthday today," Goku said. He was frowning, his uncovered hair wet and plastered to his face wildly. "I figured I'd come pay my respects, and also see if you would show up."

"Why, so you could shoot me again?" Vegeta snapped.

"I warned you in the church that I would do my job, Vegeta. Plus, I knew you were wearing body armor," Goku replied evenly. He paused for a moment, before angrily adding, "Besides, you deserved to get taken down for that stunt you pulled-"

Vegeta abruptly grabbed him by the jacket, hauling him close with one hand as he slammed a fist into Goku's face with the other hand. Goku yelped as he landed sitting down in the wet grass, fresh blood running from his nose and vanishing in the rain. It was a freebie; he hadn't bothered to defend against the shot, but Vegeta didn't care.

"If you EVER open fire on me again, you better make sure you fucking kill me, Kakarot!" Vegeta venomously snarled down at him.

Goku glared up at him. "I have no interest in killing you-"

"Then what is your interest?"

"I want to help you!" Goku shouted at him. "I've been trying to reach you because Cui, the eyewitness, got kidnapped in transport after what happened at the police station. He was taken by Frieza's men, Vegeta. It's only a matter of time before they know who the vigilante is."

Vegeta reached up, taking off his ballcap so the cool rain would help ground him. He turned away, his dark eyes scanning the tombstones belonging to his parents, and then settling on the one belonging to his brother.

"Figures," he finally grumbled. It was a challenge to be sure, but he would overcome it, like he always did.

"Vegeta, work with us," Goku pleaded as he got back up to his feet, earning a shocked look from Vegeta. "We have been gunning for Frieza for years – I could talk to Bulma, she could work to lessen the charges against you if you help us bring Frieza down once and for all. You worked for him before, you know how he operates-"

"Kakarot-"

"We can wire you up, you can help us get incriminating evidence-"

"Why, so he can get out on a technicality?" Vegeta yelled, spinning back to Goku, a look of rage on his face. Goku tensed for a fight, but it didn't come as Vegeta kept ranting, "So he can work with his lawyers, and the crooks in the DA's offices, oh, and the judges in his pocket, and he can get out and murder everyone that's ever crossed my path? This isn't the Marines, this isn't the police department, there are no fucking rules of engagement here!"

"You won't even give it a chance!" Goku yelled back. "If you had taken my help a month and a half ago-"

"If you finish that sentence here at my brother's grave, I swear on my mother and brother's lives, you will be dead to me, Kakarot," Vegeta seethed, his dark eyes blazing with warning.

Goku paused and took a breath, looking at his friend in exasperation. "You know I would never blame you for this, Vegeta. I just think we can have him dead to rights, and you can have your justice, if you would just give the law a chance-"

"He dies by my hands, that is the only way this ends!" Vegeta screamed.

For a long time, there was only the sound of rain and Vegeta's heavy breathing from his anger. Goku's shoulders finally relaxed, his posture deflating in defeat as he looked back towards Tarble's tombstone.

"I'll leave you with your brother so you have time alone."

With that, Goku turned around and quietly left, without a look back. Vegeta watched him for a moment, before looking back at the tombstones of his family, purposely avoiding looking at his father's. His teeth were grinding together, but he forced himself to calm down. His emotions were a whirlwind, but he needed a clear head, or he would be in the family plot soon.

"I'm sorry, Tarble, but I'll settle this, I promise," he whispered, grateful for the rain that was running down his face. "Happy birthday, kid."