Bulma was coming down with a cold. She had felt achy and nauseated the entire week, which she attributed to her schedule and to completing her final round of gene therapy. She was overjoyed that the latter was finished. She would chat later with Kaleb about her immune system's response to their experiment, but she had to work through the weekend, without interruption, to finish other projects. The cold was another minor problem to manage. She didn't take medicine because she often recovered quickly from such ailments.

Vegeta was halfway on the other side of the world. He had been traveling for a week, although he had no particular person to visit. Rather, he told Bulma he "wanted to see something different." The behavior wasn't typical for him. He had visited many places on Earth, but almost all trips were with the entire family. This time he took his daughter with him.

The couple had become more detached before he left. Vegeta continued sleeping in the guest room despite Bulma's invitations to return to their bedroom. He wanted to be close to her again more than anything in the world, but first they had to excavate some buried bones in their relationship. They met in their kitchen to discuss his concerns.

He handed her a cup of coffee and sat down. "Bulma, I want you to understand that I am not angry anymore about our argument at the lab, but what happened was symptomatic of a larger problem. I do not know what it is, but we need space to figure it out."

"Vegeta, I'm always suspicious when one partner tells the other that they both need space," she said. "It's dishonest. You're guiding the conversation here. You want space."

"Tch. Well, woman, since you dislike my assessment, what is your explanation?"

"It's simple," she said. "You want more control: control of my behavior, control of our daughter's development, control of how outsiders interact with us. Shall I continue?"

Vegeta observed her body language. Her comments were hurtful enough, but he hadn't seen her so closed off to him in years. Her arms were drawn in, while her foot tapped on the floor. She sat an angle rather than facing him directly. Her defensiveness seemed more like shame.

"Bulma, perhaps you should 'look in mirror,' as you humans like to say. I have sensed your unhappiness for some time, but I was not sure how I could get you to discuss it. What I do know is that I have tried hard to reassure you of my commitment.

"You are not angry with anything I have done lately per se. I suspect you are unhappy because you feel as if you are missing something. Deep down, maybe you blame me. If I am right, then say it. You could blame me for lots of things, I am sure, but we can work through them. We have a history of doing that, right?"

Bulma used her forefingers to wipe her tears. It took a hell of a lot for Vegeta to be that vulnerable with her, but she still moved away when he tried to touch her.

Vegeta lowered his arm and inhaled. He couldn't take any more rejection right then, but he also considered what Bulma went through with him before they settled down together. Some of her behavior was long overdue, he felt - but not all of it.

"So be it," he said. "Think about what we discussed here. Bulla and I will return around the middle of next week. I will keep you informed about our whereabouts."

###

Bulma's sneezing and coughing had worn her out by Monday. She was surprised by the ferocity of her cold. She had been getting more sleep, but fatigue penetrated every muscle in her body. She was seated with her head buried in her arms when the control panel beeped. The page had to be answered - it was her research partner Kaleb - but she was ready to pass out.

"Are you feeling OK, Bulma? You don't look like it. Your eyes are bloodshot."

Bulma sneezed twice and wiped her nose. "No, Kaleb, I feel dreadful and need to be in bed. I have a horrible cold that started Thursday after we finished work."

"Then you worked through the weekend and your cold got worse," he said. "Your immunity is lower, at least temporarily, because of your gene therapy."

"I know that, but I didn't expect to be this sick. I'm glad it's not flu season or I'd probably be dead in a coffin by now. Anyway, I'm taking this week off. Vegeta is traveling with Bulla."

"When will you tell him about your plans? Didn't you ask him to give you a month or so? Your body is in the early stages of transitioning. We saw this in your blood tests. Vegeta will be highly upset when phenotypic changes show up on your body."

"Yes, Kaleb. If I sprouted a fluffy Saiyan tail tomorrow, it would likely scare the shit out him. I know."

"It's up to you, my friend. Feel better. I won't bother you this week, but let me know if strange stuff starts happening."

"Strange stuff?" Bulma raised her eyebrows. "That's some impressive scientific jargon. I'm going to bed now. Bye."

She felt nauseated once she returned to the house, so she decided to make tea. It was dusk, and skylights in her family room glistened above her head. She snoozed on a sofa bed while soft music played in the background. Her home was blessedly quiet - until someone paged her once again. This time it was Trunks.

She switched on the projection screen to transfer his image there instead of speaking into her watch.

"Hey mom, why are you curled up on the sofa?"

Bulma dabbed a tissue at her nose and cleared her throat. "Maybe because it's my house and my furniture, son?"

"Oh, wow. You're sick. I can hear it in your voice."

"I am very much sick, smart guy. Can I help you with something, or may I return to sleep now?"

"Mom, I'm coming over."

Bulma pulled her blankets around her shoulders. "Coming to do what, Trunks? Do you plan to eat me out of house and home like last week? No friggin way."

"Of course not, Dr. Brief," Trunks said. "I feel like I should stay with you until papa and Bulla return."

"That's kind of you, sweetheart, but I'll recover in a few days. I took the week off. I don't want you to get sick either."

Trunks' image moved in closer onscreen. "That wasn't a request, mother. That was a declarative statement. I'll be there in an hour and a half. May I bring you something?"

Bulma began to laugh but ended up coughing again. "Ugh, I haven't had a cold like this in ages. Bring two giant tubs of vegetable and chicken soup from that restaurant near your campus. I have juice here."

"I will!" Trunks blew a kiss to her onscreen. "Thanks for letting me help, mom. Go back to sleep."

Bulma had been thinking lately about the day Trunks was born, including her choice to have his tail removed. She had good, sound reasons for doing it back then, but she felt regret too.

He's such a wonderful kid. I wonder how he'll react as I change.

She was sleeping soundly by the time Trunks arrived. He was unsure about awakening her because she looked spent. However, he was more concerned about his parents sleeping separately. He knew their disputes weren't solely about his mother's schedule.

He touched her shoulder softly. "Mom, I'm here now. I have your food. I'll stay and eat with you here."

Bulma felt groggy, but she was able sit up. "Hi, buddy. Thanks. I'll definitely eat some now, but you may need to set it aside for later. I am still slightly sick to my stomach. My sense of smell has been so strong this past week, too."

"That's fine," Trunks said. "I'm sure you will be hungry later. Have you taken medicine?"

"No, I'd rather let this sickness run its course."

Bulma retired to her bed later that night after Trunks fell asleep in the family room. She just couldn't pull herself together. What if her body was rejecting the gene therapy? She considered paging Kaleb but then calmed herself after having another sneezing attack. She had nothing more than a bad cold.

Before he left home, Vegeta decided that he wouldn't intensely track Bulma, Trunks, or anyone else's ki signatures while he traveled. His brain was always "on," and he wanted a break. His daughter was the exception because of her youth, and because she hadn't learned the technique well enough yet to protect herself in his absence. He had to block out some of the noise in his head, though. He was reaching yet another point in life that would demand much from him. How much would the principles and priorities he and Bulma shared change? He had to think it through - be rational. The farther away he was the better, at least for awhile.

He remembered taking Trunks on a similar trip to bond with him. Vegeta wanted his son to know he was invested in his well-being. He would never be a gushing parent, but he was serious about his duty. He was also paying penance for his indifference about his son's welfare when Bulma first gave birth to him.

He decided to harass Trunks by speakerphone on his way home.

"Where are you, boy?"

Trunks rolled his eyes. "Dude, you can't sense where I am? I know you're close to home."

"So you must be there eating my food."

"What is it with you and mom about my eating habits? I'm starting to get offended. I am part Saiyan, you know."

"I know what you are, 'dude.' How is your mother?"

"Again, why can't you sense her, papa? Did you get knocked in the head or something?"

"I have my reasons for not being tuned in. How is Bulma?"

"She's been sick the last few days. She's taking off this week."

"What do you mean sick?"

"She's has a terrible cold, papa. It's like the worst. She also said something about other symptoms before the cold began. I've been here since Monday."

"I'll be home soon, Trunks." Vegeta shut off the phone and massaged the back of his neck.

Bulla began to bite her nails. "What do you think? Colds usually don't kill people, you know."

Vegeta looked over at her and frowned. "You should wait until I see your mother when we get home. She would kill me if you got sick, and stop biting your nails."

When they arrived, Trunks told his father that Bulma had been vomiting that day and the night before. He had been worried, but Bulma tried to reassure him that strong coughing may have caused it.

"All right, son. Are you having any symptoms?"

"Nope. I'm fine, papa. Just go see about mom. She finally took medicine and was resting fairly well when I was upstairs earlier, but I was just heading back. I think she might be feeling worse."

"You are right," Vegeta said. "Do me a favor and make a meal for your sister. She likes it when you cook, and she needs a distraction."

Vegeta heard Bulma throwing up again before he reached the top of the stairs. His heart anxiously skipped a beat when he found her on the bathroom floor, bleary-eyed, in her pajamas. Her lips were chafed and her skin was dry and pale. He immediately fell on his knees and put his arm around her waist.

She closed her eyes in relief as he wiped her face with a wet facecloth. "Thank you, honey. Where are the kids?"

"They are fine. Bulma, I believe you are dehydrated, and something else might be wrong. I am taking you for treatment."

"No, Vegeta, I just need to… the folks in the compound can help."

"You need to be silent, woman. I am taking you there."

Ron, the in-house physician treating her, later affirmed Vegeta's judgment about her condition.

"Did you lose your senses, Dr. Brief?" he said. "You waited too long to care for yourself. I knew it. I should've said something to you much earlier."

"Ron, do not lecture my wife until she can respond appropriately," Vegeta said. "I am not the most forgiving person."

Bulma tugged on his shirt. "It's OK. Stop scaring the doctor. The IV fluids are helping. I'm already feeling better."

Ron sat next to the gurney and squeezed her hand. "Bulma, other than your dehydration and cold, the results from the basic blood tests we performed look good. I saw some abnormal looking red and white blood cells, but that happens occasionally. See a hematologist if other symptoms arise. You know what they are."

Bulma smiled. "Yes, I do. Thank you, Ron. See, Vegeta? Nothing else is wrong with me."

"Indeed," Vegeta said, "but the doctor is not finished yet. What is it?"

Ron looked at both of them with a wide grin. "Bulma, you're pregnant. Congratulations to you both."