Two months after his discharge from the hospital, Vegeta was reclined back in his seat. He stared up at the ceiling, a scowl on his face from under his baseball cap. Across from him, Piccolo lowered his glasses and waited patiently. After curt greetings, they had been in silence for a solid 5 minutes in their first appointment since Tarble's birthday. It reminded Piccolo of the very first time Vegeta had come to see him, when his new surly patient had sat in bitter and angry silence for a solid half hour before he had finally started engaging.
Vegeta then shifted gingerly, propping his elbow on the armrest of his seat as he leaned to one side. He ran his hand over his face, and exhaled deeply with frustration.
"The PTSD symptoms are starting up again," he mumbled into his hand, embarrassed to admit it out loud. "Nightmares…bad ones, making it hard to sleep. Now the goddamned panic attacks again…I feel like I did before, after the Marines. On edge all the fucking time."
"That's understandable and nothing to be ashamed about," Piccolo said. Vegeta scoffed and rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Piccolo frowned and emphasized, "It's not. If half of what the media says is true about what happened, you've been through traumatizing events – all the violence, getting shot multiple times, nearly dying. And that's on top of what you've been through in the past."
"Yes, but still, I thought I knew how to handle this," Vegeta said, irritated now.
"We'll go back to the start, and take it from the ground up with your treatment, like we did after your military service. There is much to unpack and discuss. But don't worry. You were able to cope with this before, Vegeta. You'll get there again," Piccolo assured him, scribbling in his notepad.
"Tch," Vegeta's nose twitched with annoyance. "You sound just like her."
"Her?"
Vegeta shrugged, though something close to a smile spread over his face. Piccolo lowered his glasses with intrigue, having never seen Vegeta wear a look like that in the four years he'd been treating him.
"Remember the woman I told you about?"
"The one you were interested in after the one night stand?" Piccolo asked, getting a nod from Vegeta. He nodded back studiously. "Yes, what happened with her?"
"Well, a lot happened…but we're together now." He paused, as though mulling over his own words, "I'm kind of living with her."
"That's fast."
"I didn't have anywhere to stay after I got out of the hospital. She offered for me to stay with her while I recovered, which, I suppose I mostly have now," Vegeta relented, scowling as he thought about it more. "I guess we should have a conversation about that soon," he muttered, more to himself than to Piccolo. His gaze sharpened on his therapist he confided, "She claims she's in love with me."
Piccolo frowned. "Why do you phrase it that way?"
Vegeta looked confused. "Phrase it what way?"
"She claims," Piccolo replied, complete with air quotes, earning a look of annoyance from his patient. "It's as though you don't believe her."
"I-" Vegeta blinked. He thought to himself for some long seconds, before sighing as he leaned back in his seat again, reclining his head back to stare up at the ceiling. "I don't know why I said it that way. I'm sure she means it. She's helped me so much. She saved my life," he quietly admitted, tasting the words out loud for the first time. "Even with my symptoms getting bad again, she's still there for me, pushing me to come talk to you again."
"Sounds like she is very good for you."
"Better than what I deserve," Vegeta mumbled.
"You deserve good things, Vegeta. You've been through a brutal time, even going back to when you were a boy. Let the people who care about you help you get through all of it. Don't be stubborn," Piccolo sternly said, frowning at him over his glasses. "You've been absolved of your guilt in this spree of violence. You can start over now and rebuild."
"Tch."
"Are you in love with her?" Piccolo bluntly asked.
Vegeta's nose twitched. He slowly raised his head, bringing one hand to his face again. He massaged his forehead, thinking long and hard about the question, while he heard Piccolo's pen scribbling on the paper in the seat across from him.
"I don't know," he gruffly admitted, awkwardly raising his dark eyes to meet his therapist's. "I've never been in love before. How can you tell?"
An hour later, Bulma was sitting on the trunk of her sedan, one of her knees up. She was leaning her arm on her raised knee, a lit cigarette between her fingers while she looked down at her phone in her other hand. Back at work now, she was on a hot new case, and as always, was making sure she kept on top of what the media was reporting. Frieza's criminal reign may have ended, but the vacuum of power he'd left in West City was drawing out folks who thought they could step in his place. As such, she was still kept busy at work, though she was trying her best to have more of a work-life balance this time around.
She sensed Vegeta before she saw him. Glancing up, she caught him slowly exiting the lobby at the therapy clinic he went to. Vegeta had his head down with his baseball cap, his hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket, the one he still wore despite the bullet hole in the left shoulder. Bulma put her phone away, and then put out the cigarette against the trunk of her car while he approached. She lowered her knee, moving closer to the edge of her trunk as Vegeta came to stand in front of her, raising his head and settling his strong gaze on her.
"Hey there," she greeted him with a smile. "How'd it go?"
Vegeta scowled, before shrugging half-heartedly. He took out a small slip of paper from the hoodie under his jacket, and handed it to her.
"Got a prescription to start up on some old medication again," he muttered. Bulma took it and read it over as he sighed, "We're going to start over on my treatment, like when I got out of the Marines."
"Good. There's a pharmacy close to home, we can swing by there, no problem," Bulma easily said, tucking the slip inside her brown leather jacket.
She then regarded him carefully when Vegeta didn't respond and just shrugged again, looking down, her blue eyes scrutinizing him. Finally, she reached for his jacket, she tugged on it a little, until he hesitantly looked back up at her and they made eye contact again. The look in his dark eyes was intense, but it softened the slightest bit when she reached for his face, gently settling her palm against his jaw. Her fingers traced the rough stubble of his 5 o'clock shadow as some tension left his shoulders.
"It's okay. He'll help you again, yeah? I'm proud of you," Bulma whispered, before giving him a warm smile. Vegeta frowned, studying her pensively, his therapist's words in his ears.
He then moved closer, putting his arms around her and pulling her into a hug. Bulma gently hugged him back as he brought his head down to her shoulder. They held each other like that in the parking lot for a good amount of time, uncaring of anyone who might see.
Finally, Bulma kissed him under his ear, pulling away just enough so that he raised his head and they could make eye contact again. "Tell you what. I've got time before I have to get back. Want to get lunch with me?"
"Where?" Vegeta gruffly asked.
She smiled. "I know a spot."
Some time later, they were seated across from each other at the bar where they had first met, feasting on burgers and fries. Vegeta's attention seemed split evenly between the food he was devouring, the woman in front of him, and the baseball game on one of the TVs in the bar. Fortunately with his cap and hood on, no one was recognizing him, giving them privacy as they sat in a back corner.
"The Bandits are fucking terrible again this year," Vegeta grumbled under his breath as he held his burger in front of his mouth, glaring at the TV, where the hometown West City Bandits were down 0-5 in only the 2nd inning. "They should disband the whole goddamned team."
Bulma chuckled as she picked up a bottle of beer. "You know, my ex tried out for them once. He was a big name in the minor leagues."
Vegeta turned his attention back to her, intrigued. "Oh? What's his name? I probably know who he is."
"Yamcha Wolf," she replied.
Vegeta tossed his head back and laughed long and hard, as Bulma couldn't help but smile as she watched him. It was the first time she was seeing and hearing him genuinely laugh. The way his laughter eased all of his features almost made him look younger and lighter in spirit – if she wasn't already in love with him, she would have fallen for him on the spot. Soon enough, she was laughing with him.
"Alright, alright, I don't even want to hear your smartass baseball assessment about him, you jerk."
Vegeta was still chuckling at the thought of Yamcha being a big name as he picked up his burger. He took a massive bite out of it, and chewed thoughtfully while he sobered from his laughter. Bulma had her eyes on the game, but his gaze was only on her now.
"So…" he started, drawing her attention again. "I wanted to talk to you about our living arrangement."
Bulma picked up her beer as she nodded. "Yep, what about it?"
"I…enjoy it," Vegeta uncomfortably said, and Bulma smiled a little at the hint of red that crossed his face.
"I enjoy it too."
It was the truth. They had settled into living together like they'd known each other for years. She had expected some awkward adjustments, but there were none to be seen. Granted, Vegeta had spent most of the first few weeks after his discharge sleeping while he recovered, but even when he started truly regaining his strength, things were still much easier than she imagined. She had been nervous for her return to work when the time came – her job had always been such a pain point with Yamcha that she'd been braced for the dynamics to shift. But Vegeta was as comfortable alone as he was with her, and he didn't bat an eye when she went back to work.
Though things were comfortable, they weren't necessarily perfect, especially with his PTSD symptoms creeping back up. And though they shared a bed at night, they hadn't been intimate since his discharge, mostly because the doctors had told him not to engage in sexual activity for two months. Ever meticulous, Bulma was holding him to that, much to his disappointment. Despite the imperfections though, she was more than happy with where they were, and it thrilled her that the feeling seemed mutual.
"Still, I'm not comfortable living with you for free," Vegeta continued, bringing her back to the moment as he frowned at her. "I have savings from my construction job, so I can give you enough to split the bills with you, until I can start working again."
He kept to himself that it was the money meant for Tarble's first year of med school, though the thought made his shoulders sag a little as he lowered his head.
Bulma sighed. "Vegeta, I told you money isn't a problem. My family has been very successful with my dad's technology business-"
"It's the principle of the thing, Bulma. You've done a lot for me. I can at least pay my share."
They stared at each other for a few seconds. She could tell by the stubborn look on Vegeta's face that he was set on this, and so she nodded and relented.
"Alright, fine, then you pay your share. What kind of work are you thinking you'll do, since you told the SWAT team to fuck off?" she chuckled, picking up her bottle of beer.
He scoffed, looking at her with annoyance. "I didn't tell them to fuck off. I asked them for a breakdown in tactics for how to properly conduct reconnaissance-"
"Vegeta, they came to talk to you, and you flipped the script and interviewed them on military tactics. Then when they didn't answer how you liked, you told them you didn't want to work with 'fucking amateurs'. So, yeah, you basically told them to fuck off," Bulma chuckled, remembering the appalled looks on their faces when they'd come to her apartment a couple weeks ago. "They're still talking about how much of an asshole you are…though never when I'm around," she laughed, leaning her head back to take a swig of her beer.
Vegeta smirked a little, tossing a fry into his mouth and enjoying watching her laugh. "Well, they are amateurs," he drawled, his smirk growing.
"Yeah, yeah," she chuckled. "So since that's clearly out, you going to look into your construction job again?"
"Tch, already tried. My old boss said they're not interested in the media spotlight that's on me right now, or my so-called fame," Vegeta grumbled, instinctively reaching up for his cap and lowering it down a bit more. Despite him ignoring the media trying to engage him, and despite being downright hostile to anyone bold enough to approach him on the street asking for an autograph or a picture, he couldn't shake his new-found fame in West City, much to his chagrin. "He said if I'm still looking when everything settles down, to call him back."
"Is that what you want to do though?" Bulma asked, earning a nonchalant shrug from him as he tossed another fry into his mouth. There was a hint of a smile on her face as she commented, "Because if not, I happen to know someone who is looking to make you a different kind of job offer."
Vegeta rolled his eyes, and sighed. "Woman, I already told you that I'm not interested in SWAT or police work-"
"Nope, it's nothing in law enforcement."
He looked surprised, then curious. "Then what?"
"I'll let him make his pitch on his own," she said, though her smile spread in anticipation. "But I think you just might like it."
Hours later, Vegeta was standing at the graveyard, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket while he stared at Tarble's tombstone. He eyed the bouquets of flowers that Bulma had brought last time she'd joined him, one in front of his mother's tombstone, the other in front of his brother's. Some of the petals had fallen and drifted in the wind along the grass, but the bulk remained where she had placed them.
Slowly, he made his way to the edge of Tarble's tombstone, where he gingerly eased himself down so he was sitting up against the side of it. His broken bones were healed, but his chest still had a deep soreness depending on how he moved, and the pain pulsed through him now. He waited for the flare-up to subside, then crossed his arms loosely over his chest. His gaze drifted towards his parents' tombstones, before it settled on his mother's. He crossed his feet at his ankles, exhaling quietly.
"So, I think this thing with Bulma might be the real deal," he whispered into the wind. "I wish you both could have met her…I think you both would have loved her."
The only answer was a cool breeze that ruffled his hair and his jacket. Vegeta sighed, lowering his head to his chest as he closed his eyes, taking comfort in being as close to his family as he could be.
He must have fallen into a restless sleep at some point, because the next thing he knew, someone was calling his name.
"Vegeta?"
Vegeta gasped and started awake, opening his eyes and instinctively reaching behind his jeans for his gun to draw. He found none though, since Bulma wasn't letting him carry until his symptoms improved. He blinked and looked around in a brief panic, his heart pounding as someone stood over him. For a moment, he saw Frieza, drawing back a pair of bloodied brass knuckles.
"It's alright, it's just me," Goku quietly said, kneeling down in front of Vegeta as he patted him on the knee a couple times.
The contact helped orient him, making him blink rapidly a few times. It took him a moment before Vegeta recognized where he was and who he was with. His forearm was shaking as he reached up to wipe the sweat from his brow, trying to slow down his breathing as he cursed under his breath.
"Sorry, Vegeta. Bulma said I might still find you here. I didn't mean to startle you."
"Tch." Once he had regained control of his breath, Vegeta checked his phone to see the time, then sighed. He'd only been sleeping for about 20 minutes, but it was already starting to get dark out. "What did you need, Kakarot?"
"Just wanted to talk to you. Need a ride back? We can talk on the way. Unless you want to stay here longer," Goku said, looking around the graveyard briefly while putting his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "If so, I can just wait for ya in the parking lot."
Vegeta rubbed the back of his neck as he frowned. He was sore from his impromptu nap, and figured it was probably best to start heading home.
"Fine. Let's go."
Goku extended his hand down to him. Vegeta rolled his eyes a little, before he grasped Goku's hand as his friend easily helped him stand again. Goku patted his back, and then led the way back to the parking lot. Vegeta put a hand down on top of Tarble's tombstone for a couple of seconds, before he followed suit.
"So, what did you want to talk about?" Vegeta asked, once Goku was driving through the streets of West City ten minutes later. Vegeta pulled his cap down lower over his face to avoid anyone potentially recognizing him. Fortunately for him, it was dark out now.
"Bulma said you want to start looking for work. What are you thinking you want to do?" Goku asked curiously.
"Doesn't matter, so long as it gets me paid," Vegeta gruffly replied. He frowned as he looked out of the passenger window, his eyes narrowed with suspicion and confusion. "Where the hell are we going?"
"I wanted to show you something in the True West," Goku replied. Vegeta's nose twitched with disapproval, but he remained silent as Goku continued, "I started thinking about this while you were in the hospital. You know how I told you I'm not going back to the police?"
"You mentioned that, yes. You turned down SWAT too."
"Yeah, Chief wasn't happy when I told him I was done. He thought I was kidding, until I turned in my badge and my gun," Goku chuckled.
He took another turn as Vegeta looked out the window again. They were on the west side of West City now – the True West as the locals called it – a low-income and working-class neighborhood. Vegeta was intimately familiar with these streets, as it was the neighborhood where he'd grown up. Despite his deep ties there, he hadn't stepped foot in the neighborhood in three years, not since his father's death when he'd gone one last time to help Tarble get all of his things so that his brother could move in with him.
"I thought you liked the police work," Vegeta muttered, gazing at the neighborhood that had barely changed since he was a small boy playing baseball on the streets with the other kids who lived nearby. "Leading the SWAT team was more up your alley. I'm surprised you said no to their offer, to be honest."
"I'm over getting shot. With Chi-Chi and Gohan…then my stint in the hospital…then seeing you in the hospital, how badly you were hurt…I dunno. Kinda got me thinking."
"Always dangerous when things get you thinking," Vegeta snickered.
Goku smirked. "I've got an idea that might work out for both of us."
Vegeta looked puzzled, before Goku took a familiar couple of turns to a specific area in the True West that he hadn't been to in two decades. Vegeta's eyes widened with recognition and he opened his mouth to ask if Goku was seriously going where he thought he was going, but the words refused to form. Before he knew it, Goku made a last turn before pulling over and parking the car on a street that Vegeta knew achingly well.
Vegeta's heart was pounding in his ears as he looked out of the passenger side window at the building before them. Goku turned off the car and rested his forearm against the steering wheel, leaning down to also look at the building through Vegeta's window.
"This was one of Frieza's assets," Goku quietly said. His gaze shifted from the building to his best friend, who sat frozen, staring unblinking out of the window.
"The building went to auction after his death…and well, I used a good chunk of our savings to buy it, with Raditz and Bulma chipping in to close the deal. I'm sorry, I wanted to ask your permission first, Vegeta. But my brother told me about the auction the morning it was happening, and I didn't have the time to talk to you about it. You were barely out of the hospital, and you were totally knocked out at Bulma's that day. The auction was fast and properties were flying, so, well, I decided to just go for it and buy it so it wouldn't go to anyone else. I figured if you didn't like it, we could always sell it and get our money back."
Goku was met with silence that stretched on uncomfortably. He didn't think Vegeta had moved a muscle since he'd pulled over, and thus he couldn't get a read on how he was feeling. When the silence became unbearable, Goku nervously cleared his throat.
"Vegeta? Uh, what do you think?"
Without a word, Vegeta silently opened the passenger door and got out. He stood then, at a loss for words while he stared at the building before him, the one that had housed his family's martial arts school going back to when his great-grandfather had first opened it. It was abandoned now, wooden panels stacked where there'd once been glass windows showcasing the students engaging in their lessons.
Vegeta's eyes were glazed over as he lost himself in memories. Not all of his memories in the school were pleasant, thanks to his father's borderline abusive styles of 'training' him to fight, but most of his memories there were good nonetheless. For every rough training session with his father that left him beaten and bloody, he remembered helping teach Tarble how to walk on the mats when his little brother was a toddler, or his mother patiently helping him with his homework after school in the office before his training started, or the lessons he would give kids a few years younger than him so they could stand up to their bullies at school.
After the brutal day when his father told him he was going to be 'working' for Frieza when he was only 10 years old, Vegeta never stepped foot inside his family's martial arts school again. As he'd grown older, the neighborhood kids he'd once played with on the streets were also recruited into Frieza's criminal empire, and Frieza came to own most of the True West. Everything around him became tainted with Frieza's criminal influence, and it had simply been too difficult for him to go back afterwards. It had then been officially closed when he was 13 after his mother's death, lost to bankruptcy with the building falling under Frieza's ownership. The school was meant to be his and Tarble's to inherit, a birthright in their family, but it wound up just another thing Frieza had taken from him.
Vegeta reached up with a shaking hand to remove his ballcap, his emotions a whirlwind as Goku slowly came to stand next to him.
"Want to go inside?" Goku quietly asked. Vegeta didn't trust his voice enough to speak, but after some long moments, he managed a nod.
Goku nodded back, before he went and opened the front door with his own key. Vegeta hesitated briefly, forcing himself to take another deep breath, before he entered the closed down school for the first time in 20 years.
The mats were gone, the once bright paint inside the school long faded and peeling. The electric didn't work anymore, and it was terribly dusty, with cobwebs and shadows. Despite all of that, Vegeta felt transported to another time and place, when he fought for points instead of for his life.
"It won't take long to fix this up," Goku commented, pausing near the front as Vegeta walked on ahead of him, taking in his surroundings, almost in a daze. "I was thinking we could reopen this school, you and me, and run it properly. We could run my classes for vets here, so we'd have clientele right off the bat. But we could also do more, like run classes for kids, the way you said your family used to do. The kids in this neighborhood…they've been through a lot," Goku said, briefly making Vegeta pause and turn his head a little to the side, as though silently asking for more details. "A lot of them were recruited to work for Frieza, and were working for him right up until Frieza's death. Some of them have even done time in juvie. This could be good for them too."
A muscle in Vegeta's jaw flexed at that as he scowled, before he looked away from Goku again. He walked along the wall that was the front of the school, where the students had always faced when called to attention. His fingers brushed the worn drywall, as he mulled over what his friend was saying.
"Reopen this school, huh?" Vegeta muttered.
"Yup," Goku answered, trying to keep his eagerness in check. "I'd like to run the business 50/50 with you since I've got money in this now, but I'll turn over the deed to the place entirely to you. Your family owned this place for what, three generations? By all rights, this belongs to you, Vegeta."
Vegeta scowled, thinking it over, his initial reaction torn down the middle. Part of him was tempted to accept what was owed to him, but part of him also wanted nothing to do with it. Before he could give it more thought however, he suddenly caught sight of something on the wall near the floor. He froze for a moment, before lowering to one knee, his fingers outlining faded but still noticeable black scrawls on the wall. Goku tilted his head.
"Yeah, looks like some kids may have gotten in here and messed around since this place has been abandoned for years," Goku explained, shrugging easily. "No worries though, like I said, it won't take us long to fix this up. Raditz told me about a contractor who can…"
He continued on, but Vegeta was no longer listening, his eyes on the marks on the wall as a memory suddenly came to mind.
Barefoot and in his gi pants and a t-shirt, Vegeta took a bow, before shifting into his fight stance. He slowly exhaled, drawing smoothly into his first kata on the mats at his family's martial arts school, where he was the only one training. Despite being only ten years old, his movements were marked with the disciplined, fluid grace of a black belt. His breathing was controlled, each motion measured as he visualized his opponents for his next tournament, which was starting in a few days.
His training would have been easier if he wasn't distracted. His two-year-old brother Tarble was darting across the mats while he giggled, every once in a while dashing right in front of him. Vegeta was trying to watch him out of the corner of his eye, but his brother wasn't his biggest distraction.
His parents were both arguing in the front office of the martial arts school. The door was closed to the office, but that did nothing to stifle their screaming. His parents getting into screaming matches was nothing unusual, but this time did feel different, and Vegeta didn't know why. He thought he heard 'Frieza', which was a name that had started coming up more and more lately in the heated arguments between his parents, though he was blissfully unaware of who that was.
Vegeta suddenly shifted his attention back to his little brother, and instantly stopped his training, hurrying over to the toddler in alarm. Tarble had scribbled on the wall with a marker he'd gotten from God-only-knew-where, and the damage was already done before Vegeta got to him.
"Tarble, no!" Vegeta hissed, grabbing his little brother and pulling him back from the wall. "Oh no, Dad is going to kill me," he whispered in dread and rising fear when he saw the scribbles along the wall. This was going to earn him real rage from his father tonight, and he started sweating at the thought.
Tarble just giggled, making Vegeta scoff with annoyance as he turned his attention to the toddler with him.
"Glad you think it's funny. You're gonna get big brother killed, huh?" he muttered, taking the marker out of Tarble's hands. Brushing his bangs out of his face, Vegeta sighed as he looked around. "Gotta clean this up before Dad sees."
First things first – he had to make sure there were no more surprises. Kneeling down, he checked the pockets of Tarble's toddler overalls to make sure he wasn't hiding anything else, just as his parents reached a thundering volume in their screaming match.
"HE IS STRONG ENOUGH TO SURVIVE IT!" his father bellowed.
"HE'S ONLY TEN YEARS OLD, HE'S JUST A BOY!" his mother screamed back.
Both of the boys were startled. Vegeta looked over his shoulder with some wariness, suddenly realizing that he was the topic of the heated argument, when Tarble sniffled. Vegeta turned back to the toddler who looked on the verge of tears, taking his small hands in his own to draw his attention.
"It's alright, Tarble – look, see the letters on my shirt?" Vegeta quietly asked, trying to distract the little boy as he pointed to his t-shirt. "See what they spell out?"
Tarble was fortunately easily distracted, sniffling and pointing to the first letter, "M?"
"That's right. Know what my shirt says? It says, 'my brother's keeper'," Vegeta whispered.
"Big brother," Tarble said with a smile, the only way he ever referred to his older brother. "I love you!"
Tarble then hugged him tightly. Blissfully unaware that he was seconds away from his father summoning him to the office to give him life-wrecking news, Vegeta smiled and hugged Tarble back. In his last moments of normalcy and innocence, he said the words he'd never say again for the next 20 years.
"I love you too."
"Vegeta?" Goku prompted. He resisted the urge to walk over to his friend, but Vegeta appeared to be frozen as he kneeled next to the wall, one hand over the markings in faded black ink. Goku could only see his back, and he shifted his weight between his feet anxiously. "Hey, if it's too much, I understand. We don't need to do this. I can sell the place, or we-"
"I'm in," Vegeta asserted, his voice rougher than usual. Though his breathing was steady, there were hot tears running down his face. As soon as he said those words out loud, he knew it was the right decision. There were far more good memories in the school than bad. In addition, it was a rare opportunity to fix his father's mistakes.
Finally, Vegeta slowly stood again. He roughly brushed the tears from his face with his forearm, before resting his hands on his hips as he looked upwards, as though silently conferring with his mother and his brother. He then took a deep breath as he closed his eyes, his head leaned back.
He couldn't help Tarble anymore, but there were other kids out there that he could still help. Some who were still innocent, and some who had already learned how hard life could be. He was in a unique position to help them all, on and off the mats. He knew all at once, that Tarble and his mother would have both enthusiastically approved.
For the first time since Tarble's death, the grief finally grew lighter in his chest. Resolved now, he turned to face Goku.
"Alright. Let's do it."
It was around midnight when Bulma quietly entered her apartment after a long day at work. Most of the lights were off, and it was silent. She tried straining her hearing for him as she took off her badge and gun, but she didn't hear a thing. Assuming he was already asleep, Bulma walked over the living room space, and that's when she spotted him standing outside on the fire escape.
Vegeta was barefoot, clad only in his jeans, leaning forward on the metal railing. Ever vigilant of his surroundings, he raised a hand up briefly in acknowledgement without looking back, despite the door leading out being closed. She eyed him for a second, and then turned to head into the bedroom to put her loaded gun into the safe she'd recently purchased. At least until his symptoms improved, she wasn't keen on any weapons being out in the apartment, something Vegeta hadn't fought her on.
A short bit later, she stepped out onto the fire escape too, making Vegeta turn his head a little while she came up next to him. Bulma wrapped arm going around his lower back in greeting, her fingers caressing his warm skin. Vegeta's body posture had been rigid, but it eased drastically with the contact, as he unconsciously leaned closer to her.
"Hey babe, sorry I'm back so late," she said sheepishly, kissing him on the cheek.
"It's fine. You don't have to apologize for doing your job," he gruffly said as Bulma sighed and leaned on the railing next to him. They both turned to face the West City skyline.
"I appreciate that," she said, reaching up to let her hair down, tossing her head to free her blue curls while he watched out of the corner of his eye. "Not tired yet?"
Vegeta shrugged, looking away while he frowned. He would have killed for a smoke, but that was another thing temporarily off the table for him. "Got back not too long ago."
"Gotcha."
"How was work?"
"Busy," she admitted. "Got a new case that's going to be a pretty tough one to solve. Crimes scenes are totally clean, nothing short of perfect."
"You'll figure it out. You always do," he stated, no doubt in his voice.
Bulma smiled over his confidence in her abilities. "Thanks. So, did Goku catch up with you?"
"He did. He made his pitch," Vegeta stated, scowling as he shifted his dark gaze back to her, his eyes narrowing. "Why didn't you tell me he'd made that purchase? You helped him with the investment, but you didn't mention anything to me."
"Goku wanted to be the one to talk to you about it. After all, it was his idea."
Vegeta's nose twitched, before his scowl worsened as he looked forward again, back to the skyline. "Tch."
"You accepted it, huh?" she asked knowingly.
"He tell you that?"
"Nope. I knew you would though."
"Oh? How'd you figure that?"
"I pay attention," Bulma teased, answering him the same way she'd done the night they met, as she playfully nudged him with her hips. He rolled his eyes a little, prompting her to add, "It's a chance to start over and make a difference, Vegeta. I knew you would take it, because I know you."
Vegeta frowned and turned to look at her again, watching as she smiled at him, her blue eyes practically sparkling. God, but she was an outrageously beautiful woman, no man with eyes could deny that. But it was more than just her beauty that drew him to her like a moth to a flame. Living with her and discovering first-hand what kind of amazing person she really was, it had all only enhanced his attraction to her. Most of all though, it was her unflinching belief in his inherent goodness that never failed to move him every single time.
He shifted then, reaching out to put his arm around her waist as he pulled her closer, both of them unconsciously turning towards each other. Bulma instinctively raised a hand to his bare chest, making Vegeta's heart race from the contact.
"Do tell, detective," he mumbled, bringing his other hand to brush a strand of blue hair out of her face, before settling his hand gently on her face. His hot touch made her shiver as he pulled her against him with more strength.
"Vegeta," she whispered, his lips hovering over hers. "You sure you're up for this?"
His answer came in the form of a kiss, gentle at first, before deepening as he made her whimper into his mouth. Vegeta shuddered as she moved one hand gently over his ribs, exploring his hot skin. She then trailed around to his back, down the curve of his spine until her fingers got to the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, which were poking above his jeans. He grunted in approval, moving his arm that was around her waist so his hand could explore the perfect curve of her backside while his tongue eagerly explored her mouth. Bulma got her real answer when she felt his hips pushing against hers, his erection straining against the denim of his jeans.
Her hands moved up to his face, and a moment later she breathlessly broke their kiss. Vegeta groaned low, half-expecting her to deny him because of what the doctors had said upon his discharge, but she just gave him a small smile. Without a word, she took his hand, and led him back into the apartment.
They were already kissing again before they even made it back to the bedroom. Bulma turned them so Vegeta's back was to the bed, making him walk backwards while he continued kissing her breathless. When his legs hit the edge of the bed, he sat down, watching her hungrily as Bulma pulled her blouse over her head and tossed it aside. As soon as she was left in her bra, Vegeta grabbed her by the hips, urgently bringing her to stand closer. He kissed her stomach with deference, like she was a goddess who demanded worship, while she threaded her fingers in his hair as his hands roamed the back of her legs.
Finally, Bulma gently pushed him backwards, until he shifted up and laid back. Vegeta's breath quickened as he laid and watch her remove her bra, his erection throbbing as her breasts were exposed to him. With them putting a pause on sexual activity while he recovered, she'd avoided being undressed near him so she wouldn't rile him up, and he marveled over the view now. Unable to stand the pressure of his jeans, he deftly unbuttoned and unzipped them as Bulma quickly shed her pants and underwear in one shot. She then grabbed his jeans and helped him do the same, tossing his jeans and boxer briefs on top of her own discarded clothes, before she joined him in bed.
Vegeta was breathing heavily as Bulma stretched out next to him on her side. She reached for his jaw, turning his head and kissing him, slowly and leisurely as she very gently roamed her fingers over his hard chest. She was barely touching him, and at first he thought it was because she was teasing him, until she broke their kiss enough to whisper against his lips.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," he breathed, trying to be patient, even as his whole body was on fire for this woman's touch. "I'm fine. Trust me."
Taking his word for it, Bulma kissed him passionately until he grunted in content, resuming her touch as she explored his chest more thoroughly. Her soft fingers moved over his firm skin, thumbing over a nipple, dipping down over his muscles, gently outlining his fresh scars across his stomach. Vegeta gasped into their heated kiss, arching his back a little as she lowered her hand to his stiff erection and wrapped her fingers around him.
She stroked him slowly, making him moan deliciously into her mouth. She explored his mouth once more with her tongue, relishing in the manly taste that was uniquely Vegeta, before she pulled away from his soft lips. Lowering her head to his chest, she refamiliarized himself with his scars. His gunshot wounds and incisions over his abdomen were closed, but the scars were still a dark purple, and would take some time to lighten. She gently kissed the scars, in deep gratitude that all the pain and violence were over and that Vegeta was alive and with her now.
"Bulma," he raggedly breathed, before pulling her back up towards him. He grabbed her, pulling her down for another desperate, heart-pounding kiss. The kiss was fire that stole her breath, almost making her dizzy – the man knew how to kiss – but it was apparently testing his patience as he abruptly rolled them over so he was on top of her.
Vegeta spread her legs and Bulma's heart raced with anticipation as he focused his attention on her breasts. She whimpered when he kept intense eye contact with her while he drew a nipple in his mouth, his free hand moving down to find her wet and ready for him. Bulma slid a hand into his upswept hair, gripping him tightly and cursing while he easily inserted two fingers into her, shuddering when Vegeta moaned against her breast. He shifted to his knees, his free hand roughly cupping her other breast while his tongue on her other breast and fingers inside her had her writhing helplessly beneath him.
"Oh God," she panted, her face and chest all flushed red underneath him. She bucked up under his touch, on the brink of a shattering climax, prompting Vegeta to briefly withdraw. She gasped at the loss of him, until she felt him slowly begin to press into her. She moaned at the feeling of him, hard and hot inside her, while Vegeta leaned his head back in ecstasy, shuddering as his eyes drifted closed. He groaned low, before bringing his mouth back to her breast as he brought his fingers down to rub her just right while he sheathed himself fully inside her.
Bulma's whole body jerked and twisted as he began to thrust inside her. Vegeta hooked her leg around his waist, maintaining steady and deep thrusts as her orgasm crashed over her with a force that left her feeling like she was drowning from the pleasure. She clutched him desperately close, and he obliged, ducking down to seize her lips. His tongue and thrusts both worked her over into oblivion as he smothered her shrieks, her nails digging into his skin.
Bulma had tremors going through her while Vegeta lazily kissed her moments later, drinking in her whimpers in the haze of her orgasm. His hips were gently rolling into hers, and she shivered when she realized he was still hard and throbbing inside her. Bulma's head fell to the side as she broke their kiss to pant for air. In response, Vegeta settled himself deep into her and held still, bringing one hand up to brush the sweaty strands of hair out of her face while he kissed her jaw.
"Holy shit, Vegeta," she whispered. Vegeta ducked his forehead down to her shoulder while he steadied his own breathing. Bulma turned back towards him, kissing him where his neck met his shoulder, relishing in his heat as she breathlessly chuckled, "I've been needing that."
"Hn," he grunted.
"God, I love you," she whispered.
Vegeta held still for a moment, before lifting his head so they could make eye contact. His face was reddened from his arousal, a few sweaty strands of hair hanging down over his forehead and making him look younger. He looked content, like he always did when they were like this, but also pensive as he seriously regarded her.
He visibly swallowed hard, his rough fingers gently cupping her heated face.
"I love you too," he quietly confessed.
Bulma's heart felt like it soared, before she smiled brilliantly at him, thrilled to death that he had finally admitted what she had already strongly suspected. She put her arms around him, pulling him down while she kissed him again, unable to get enough of his taste. She couldn't help her small moan when he allowed her to take full control of their kiss as Vegeta surrendered to her – heart, body, and soul.
They fit together so perfectly that Vegeta wondered how he had lived so long without her. He could practically taste her joy off her warmth of her mouth, and it made him feel more like a man than he'd ever felt in his entire life. He'd gone into the bar that one night to mentally prepare to launch his vigilante tear the following day, ready to die for his vengeance, and yet somehow, he had found her instead. In his darkest time, with his life falling to pieces, she had deemed him worth saving, literally breathing life back into him. Falling for her was inevitable, and no matter what the future held for them, he knew deep down that he would never love anyone more.
Bulma moved her hands down his lower back, squirming underneath him, making him grunt and resume lazy rolls of his hips now that she'd caught her breath. Everything felt more heightened and intense somehow after he'd confessed his feelings for her, and when he reached to cup her breast again just to feel how she arched up underneath him gasping his name, he thought he finally understood the term "making love". Moaning with appreciation, he leaned up over her with his jaw slackened as his thrusts started picking up speed, intent on leaving this woman – his woman – completely pleasured and satisfied.
They maintained eye contact the entire time, both of them panting as he moved deep and fast inside her. The months leading up to this without any intimacy between them as they simply got to know each other on a deeper level, combined with him finally admitting to both himself and Bulma that he had fallen for her, had their love-making raw, frenzied, and electric. Vegeta's hands were braced on either side of her, while her hands were roaming over the hot flesh of his muscular chest. Bulma reached one hand up his throat, then to his face, making him groan deep. Her touch along with the sight of her naked beneath him, rocking with his thrusts, made him feel wild. He was getting close, the physical pleasure overwhelming, but he wanted her to cross that brink with him.
Bulma gasped inaudibly, left breathless when Vegeta used his strength to slide one hand beneath her lower back, effortlessly lifting her hips enough to give him an even deeper angle as his thrusts became frantic. He lowered his head to one of her breasts, relishing in the softness of her skin that was so unlike his own. He latched on with his mouth and then with his teeth, the brush of his facial scruff against her bare skin making Bulma spasm beneath him. The feel of her tightening around him while she clutched him, her nails digging into his back, made euphoric pleasure explode through his blood. He desperately increased his pace, taking them both to the limit as his eyes rolled back. He barely could hear Bulma practically screaming through his own orgasmic fog as he thrust through both of their climaxes, her name a long and ragged moan on his lips.
Finally, Vegeta stilled and rested on her, boneless and dead tired from the exertion. He could feel the soreness in his chest and his abdomen beginning to flare now, but it had been worth it. For now, he relished in this moment, his head resting on her chest while he caught his breath, as Bulma ran a couple of fingers up and down his bare back.
He was beyond content and satisfied. He was – dare he even think it – actually happy.
After a couple minutes, Vegeta finally grunted and rolled off her, pulling Bulma with him until they were on their sides facing each other. They were intertwined, all bare skin, heat, and sweat, neither willing to let the other go just yet.
Bulma pulled up closer, reaching for his face with one hand, making him slowly open his eyes. They stared at each other for some moments while she studied his features up close. The bruises on his face were gone now, but there was some scarring left on his face near his left eye, near both temples, across his left cheekbone, and underneath his lips from the beatings he'd taken and stitches he'd required. Most of them were already fading and thus barely noticeable unless one was this close to him. The exception was a gash he'd received across his left eyebrow where the hair had yet to grow back.
She caressed the scar across his cheekbone with her fingers, making him blink lazily before he pulled her closer to him. She loved these moments with him, where Vegeta allowed himself to relax, the tension he always carried in his body totally gone. He looked serious and stoic, but his eyes weren't as intense as they normally were.
When she smiled at him, a small and fleeting smile crossed his face in return.
"Well, that was worth the wait," she finally breathed in satisfaction, breaking the comfortable silence.
"Tch."
"You feeling okay?"
"I'll live," he grunted. The soreness was still flared up in his torso, but it was nothing he couldn't deal with. "I was actually thinking of getting new ink, and after tonight, I think I'm ready for that."
"New tattoo, huh? Where, your other arm?"
"Not sure yet. But I'd like to get something…for my brother," Vegeta quietly admitted. Bulma leaned up close to him, resting her forehead against his while she hugged him around his waist.
"I think that would be nice," she gently said.
"Hn."
"So do you have a plan for the school?"
"It'll probably take us a few months to get it ready to go before we're ready to reopen it. Plus Kakarot and I both need some time to make sure we are fully recovered, since it's physically demanding. Don't worry though. I have enough in savings to split things with you 50/50 until we're open for business-"
"Stop, that's the least of my worries," she chuckled, kissing him beneath the jaw and making him grunt. "Are you excited?"
He scowled as he admitted, "I don't think that's the right word…but I do think it will be positive for the city, especially for the kids who were mixed up with him."
"I agree. I think it'll also be really good for you, too, Vegeta."
He said nothing to that, holding her closer to him, though he silently hoped so.
Three months came and went, and before Vegeta knew it, Saiyan Academy was ready to open for business for the first time in 17 years.
There had been some learning curves as he and Goku had to learn the ropes for all the little things a martial arts school needed, while also renovating the building with a more modern look, but it had all finally fallen into place. Once news broke out in West City that Vegeta was reopening his family's long-standing martial arts school, the donations flowed, helping Vegeta and Goku fix things up properly. With Bulma's help, they had started a webpage, and soon had an overflowing waitlist of potential students eager to be personally trained by Vegeta, "the hero of West City". They had decided their specialty would be classes for kids, though they had crafted a schedule for everyone of all ages and skill levels, with specialized training for at-risk youth, veterans, and law enforcement (Krillin had signed up for that one, with Vegeta promising him a discount for knocking him out twice, as well as personal lessons to avoid it happening again).
The last few months had hummed along better than he could have hoped. His PTSD symptoms weren't gone, but were starting to become a little more manageable with continued therapy. His relationship with Bulma was stronger than ever, and they had crossed another milestone when he finally got to meet her parents. Fortunately, they had liked him immediately and welcomed him right away. Between them and Bulma, they gave him a sense of family that he deeply appreciated, accepting him not for the violent vigilante or adolescent criminal with a record that he used to be, but for the man he was now.
Life wasn't perfect – but it was balanced, and he was satisfied.
Vegeta was sitting alone on a bench in one of the changing rooms in the academy, leaned forward with his forearms on his knees. On the other side, he could hear the bustling activity as the kids got ready for their first lesson. Their opening class that Saturday morning, the first out of six for the day, was specifically for 7-9 year olds. Vegeta briefly closed his eyes as he just listened, relishing in the sound that brought him back to better days as Goku called for their first warm-up exercise.
Finally, Vegeta exhaled and stood to get ready. He tugged up his white gi pants moments later while he surveyed himself in the standing mirror. His eyes drifted down as he scowled, hands loosely on his waist. His chest was bare, and he examined the scars along his abdomen briefly – they were slightly more faded, though at least the pain was gone now. The memories would always be with him, but he would cope with that, like he always did.
His dark eyes drifted back up the left side of his chest, to his new tattoo right over his heart. He had finally settled on a wooden rod with a serpent winding up its length – the Rod of Asclepius, the symbol he'd seen plenty of in the hospital, since it was symbolically linked with medicine and healing. It was in honor of the doctor Tarble would have been.
Vegeta's reached up with a couple of fingers, outlining the tattoo which had "my brother's keeper" written out along the rod. Half a year had passed now since Tarble's death, and the tattoo ensured that part of his brother would always be with him.
Behind him, he heard Goku call for everyone to line up. Glancing at the clock in the changing room, Vegeta noted that it was time. He picked up his gi top, white with his family's school emblem on the back, and slipped it on. He then expertly tied his black belt, and left the room.
The kids settled down into a quiet when Vegeta walked across the front, though the quiet was pulsing with excitement. Vegeta first looked towards the wall, where the black scribbles still were, the only 'blemish' in the entire renovated building. He looked for a couple of seconds, before turning to examine the kids.
They were a mix of boys and girls, their faces flushed red as they caught their breaths from Goku's warm up, all of them sitting on the blue mat. They were all wearing their gi with white belts, the Saiyan Academy emblem on the back, and their names written on the front. All eyes were on him now; he had been anxious for this moment, but now that it had arrived, he felt his heart settle down with calmness, as though he had been doing this his whole life.
In the back, the parents were seated on a bench that ran the length of the wall, watching avidly, equally as excited as the kids. Vegeta's dark gaze easily found Bulma at the far end sitting next to Raditz, earning a warm smile of encouragement from the detective. He nodded, his hands settling on his belt, his expression serious as he regarded the children before him.
"Alright then," he gruffly said, a scowl on his face. "My name is Vegeta, and I'll be your sensei. Good morning."
"Good morning, sensei," they all enthusiastically greeted.
"Well, let's get the obvious out of the way," Vegeta declared, slowly walking through the rows of kids while he examined them. "You may have heard things about me out there. Some good, some maybe not so good. Let's hear it now. What have you heard?" he demanded. Almost all of the kids raised their hands, and he pointed to a girl near him with braces and blonde hair in a ponytail. "You there."
"I heard that you can't be beaten in a fight!" she proudly said.
"Is that so?" Vegeta snickered, before gesturing to Goku with his thumb. "He beat me in a fight plenty of times when we were in the Marines," he said, earning shocked looks from all the kids as they all turned to look at Goku in amazement. Goku grinned, standing in his orange gi, hands resting on his own black belt. He was taking lead on the next class for 3-6 year olds - the "little champions" class. He was thus content to hang back and let Vegeta run point.
"What else? You there," Vegeta grunted, pointing to a lean boy behind her in the second row with shaggy spikes of black hair. A faint smile tugged at his lips, as he was reminded of Tarble when he was the same age.
"I heard that you once fought fifteen guys at the same time, with your bare hands, and won! I want to fight like you," the boy announced, making Vegeta smirk.
"Fifteen, huh? Sorry, kid, can't say I've ever fought that many people at once with my bare hands," he chuckled, ruffling the boy's hair and making the boy grin widely.
"Despite what you all have heard about me, I am only made of flesh and blood, just like all of you. It's true that I've been in a lot of fights, but what TV won't show you kids, is how ugly and violent a fight can really be. When a fight is real, you could get seriously injured. Concussions, broken bones, damage to your organs, hospital stays. After my last real fight, I was in the hospital for over two weeks, and I almost died. Raise your hand if you want to be in a hospital for two weeks."
This time, no one raised their hand, and he nodded in approval.
"Good. We have rules of engagement here at Saiyan Academy, and the first one is, avoid the fight at all costs. What's the first rule of engagement?"
"Avoid the fight at all costs!" the kids shouted.
"It takes more strength to walk away, I promise," Vegeta asserted, coming to stand before all of them again as he paused his pacing. "However, if someone ever puts their hands on you, then the second rule of engagement is to fight back…and fight hard. You always protect yourself and stand up for yourself, no matter what. What's the second rule of engagement?"
"Fight back, and fight hard!"
"Our focus here is on self-defense, but just to show you how serious we are about the first rule of engagement…if we ever find out that any of you picked a fight, threw the first punch in a fight, or bullied someone at school, you'll be expelled from this academy. Am I understood?"
"Yes, sensei," they all responded.
"Alright then. Everyone on your feet, and follow after me," he ordered, sounding every bit the sergeant he used to be.
All the kids instantly scrambled up. He bowed, and they also bowed back to him. Vegeta then shifted into his fight stance, the kids attempting to copy it as best they could. He held still for a moment to allow Goku to go around to correct a few stances.
Vegeta took a second to relish the moment, his eyes skirting over to find Bulma's again. She smiled widely at him, and he couldn't help his own smile this time. Despite all the pain and violence, he had somehow survived, and now was blessed with a fresh start. He was fiercely determined not to squander it. He owed that to Tarble and to Bulma.
Most of all, he owed that to himself.
Looking back at the kids who were gazing at him eagerly, Vegeta smirked a little, then nodded.
"Now then, let's begin."
- The End -
A/N: THANK YOU all for reading my fic and I hope you enjoyed the ride! I have loved working on this so much, I'm contemplating a sequel hahah, but we'll see what happens. I appreciate all the support! Thanks again!
