Summary: Some intentions are good. Others are dangerous. The family's awareness and responses remain complicated.

Vegeta entered the room chewing on a toothpick, with hands in both pockets. His eyes moved in a triangle from his wife, to his son, and then his sister-in-law.

"Have the nurse sit with her," he said calmly. "Meet me in the lounge in twenty-five minutes – both of you. Get your stories straight before attempting to bullshit me, okay?"

Tights looked back at Bulma. "Vegeta…"

He held up his finger. "Twenty-five minutes."

Despite their worries, Trunks and Tights snickered afterward. Both hoped he responded that way on purpose to reduce the tension between them – unlikely, but they needed something to hold onto.

"I guess he'll always be this dramatic."

"You've got to be kidding me." Trunks said. "I'm surrounded by drama queens - including you, auntie. I'm the most normal among you all."

Tights slapped his shoulder and then looked back at Bulma.

"We will… tell your father what happened before his arrival. You fine with that?"

"I am."

"What about the other ideas you have in mind, honey?"

Trunks leaned on door, glancing at his watch. "I won't lie to papa, but I'm not volunteering information about my plans either. If he asks, then I am prepared to keep my mouth shut. He can't follow me everywhere."

Tights looked at him skeptically. "Yeah, well, let's not give him many more reasons to try unless it's highly necessary. I am sorry about handling this part badly, sweetheart. He should have been with us."

"Don't apologize," he said, embracing her. "I came here anyway."

Vegeta entered the private neo-natal intensive care room dressed in scrubs and gloves to see his son. The visit would be quick, but he needed it. The nurse on duty left the room but kept close watch on the baby's vital signs flashing on a monitor outside. Vegeta reached into the incubator's covered, protective holes to touch his baby – to hold him as close as possible. The boy was thriving but not as quickly as the prince desired or expected. Of his three children, he wondered if this one would be permanently disabled because of Bulma's health complications. While these thoughts pained him, just like his other kids, this child would have all of the support he could muster.

He also recognized that there would be more sacrifices.

"I finally have a name that suits you, little prince. You will be called Sorrel, and I expect you to hold your father's hand without this worthless equipment soon." He smiled as the baby's fingertips brushed his. "Your brother and I felt your power. Like your mother, you will be able breathe on own."

His head fell slowly as he leaned over the incubator. Then he covered his eyes. Concerned, the nurse re-entered the room. "Are you all right, sir?"

"Do not worry about me," he said hoarsely. "I am just tired. Focus on my son."

He didn't bother to remove the scrubs before entering the lounge. Tights and Trunks sat next to each other looking just as concerned as the nurse did. He found that ironic since they seemed to be making extra effort to keep him annoyed with their antics.

"Our son will be named Sorrel."

"I am sure Bulma will love it." Tights said, "She'll be excited to see him."

Vegeta hoped she would be; unfortunately, he also considered what would happen if she wasn't at first. He sat down to avoid seeing his reflection in a mirror behind them. Dark circles rimmed his eyes from lack of sleep. They settled intently on his sister-in-law. She was monitoring his body language, obviously.

"Look, Tights, I do not expect you to understand everything about my marriage or personality. I am even willing to admit that you have several valid reasons for resenting me. With that said, your father and sister also had good reasons for not sharing certain details about me with you."

"But I haven't…"

He held up his hand. "Do not allow your softer opinion of me now to rewrite history. Your resentment of my relationship with Bulma has been fueled by fear of me and of the unknown. I saw through your brazenness when we first met, after I… and the other fighters helped Gohan destroy Cell. I would not make you feel better about who I was back then, and I won't now. The truth is your fear is justified."

Tights glanced at Trunks, who appeared untroubled. Her nephew also knew much more than she, apparently. That hurt, but she accepted since Vegeta was trying hard to be open with her.

"So what does that mean, Vegeta? How will you handle Bulma if she wakes up just as stubborn as before? What will you do when she wants to return to work? If she remains ill, how will revenge against Gohan and anyone else involved help her or my nephew? What about your friends? Her friends. Of course I'm worried that you're ready to fight the world – and you can't keep my sister in a gilded cage."

"I am not seeking revenge…yet," he replied. "I expect the truth from Gohan. I expect him to abandon further experimentation and contact with my wife. I might be satisfied after those assurances, or I might not. You won't be able to control that; you must accept it. My children need me most now, so I am biding my time. I am not going anywhere."

Tights crossed her arms to lie face-down on the table. "Truth about what?"

"Gohan has plans beyond his work with Bulma, and I want to know what they are. He isn't the kindhearted cub others still imagine him to be, especially since his wife died. I see that now. His irritable Namekian trainer likely sees through the facade. His father is worried, but his overconfidence that 'everything will work out' has screwed Kakarot before – and others. We have all been fortunate, but I will never feel the same way."

Trunks nodded. "I get what you're saying now, papa, and I want know too. That's why we should keep Gohan close to us."

Vegeta had more reasons to be suspicious of Trunks intentions too. His son was terrible at trying to appear naïve and incompetent. He was fully capable of crafting intricate strategic plans to get his way - but every decision comes with a cost.

Vegeta leaned forward. "Here's what I demand from you both: truthfulness. Your sloppy, half-assed attempts to deceive me, while well-intentioned, are eroding my trust. Either do a better job – if you strongly believe in your cause – or stop attempting. Just don't lie. I don't need any more stress, and this is last time I will ask patiently."

Tights looked up at him. "I asked Trunks to come while I tried waking Bulma. I was doing it slowly to observe her responses before you could rush over."

"Fine." He crushed a paper cup in his hands angrily. "Now that I'm considering whether to throw your bodies from a window, tell me this: Was it worth the trouble?"

Iris, the nurse who entered Bulma's room earlier, had given Trunks and Tights a thumbs-up to reassure them that her patient was in good hands. Along with her routine hospital duties, the thin, blonde-haired woman had been part of the Briefs' private medical team for years. She also had been an attending nurse the day Gohan and Vegeta argued. Everyone on the team regarded Bulma and each other like family. She must have participated in an experiment – that seemed clear -but Tights had not shared many details about what happened before her sister entered the hospital. And no one dared to ask Vegeta for the entire story. The team's loyalty and dedication to provide the best care had to come first - always.

Iris, however, was riveted. Why would a woman with vast wealth and intelligence, a loving family, and dazzling beauty do this to herself? Gohan's involvement "confirmed" her suspicions as soon as she saw Vegeta lunging for the man's throat on video from the nurses' station. "Too bad there was no audio," she told the other attending nurse. The man promptly scolded her for being nosy.

She should have listened to him.

Iris didn't know what compelled her to visit Gohan's office as Bulma's hospital stay lengthened. Curiosity? Definitely. Regardless, Bulma needed more than Tights guiding her sister's continuing care. Iris didn't know every detail, but Gohan needed to help, she thought. Her cousin Myra, his student, told her a long time ago about Gohan's his closeness to Bulma. Surely he meant no harm. Bulma made her own decisions, and everyone had to accept reality. Beyond that, medical staff were used to Vegeta's overprotectiveness even before his wife fell ill. Although he wasn't effusive, she knew he respected her professionalism over the years. Maybe she could be a bridge for everyone to come together. Tights would be relieved.

Gohan listened closely as Iris described Bulma's condition. He laughed at first when she finished, but his gaze was deadly. He couldn't believe his good fortune. "Sounds like you have a god complex, lady. Many medical workers do, including me. What happened between Vegeta and me, however, is none of your damn business. But guess what? I own you now."

He threatened that day to tell her manager about her "serious breach of patient confidentiality." Then, he thought about Myra. If Iris wanted to keep job – and protect her cousin's position—then she would be his embedded informant. The woman's face turned alabaster-white from fear when Gohan dug his nails into her left arm. Then, he pulled her in close.

"You were stupid and sloppy by coming here, nurse. Thus, because of your disrespect, you will now handle my demands. Carry them out with the same high-standard you apply to patient care. Don't fuck it up. Attempting to screw me over will be much worse for you, I guarantee. Put a bandage on that lovely bruise before leaving, too. Now get the hell out of my office."

Iris reflected on these events as she held a syringe next to the hospital bed. She planned to inject a light tranquilizer into an IV catheter attached to Bulma's arm. The nurse's movements appeared routine on video, and she was prepared to lie at any time. She gently stroked Bulma's hair – now thick and wiry like Vegeta's – and apologized silently for her sins. She then examined brainwave activity before searching for a tiny adhesive disc attached to Bulma's scalp. Although no larger than the tip of a push-pin, the electromagnetic device's circuitry was sophisticated, serving dual purposes of broadcasting and reshaping the mind's response to stimuli – and this one had been "enhanced." Iris activated the device regularly, often wondering how Bulma's mind would eventually be affected.

The device wasn't a new invention. Doctors had used them for years to treat people with other neurological conditions. Patients would be strongly responsive to post-hypnotic suggestion, but using the tool more than a few months wasn't recommended. Gohan instructed Iris to attach it and check regularly as Bulma's condition stabilized.

"I will do the rest," he said, giving her a small device she didn't recognize. That was still attached to wall behind the bed's headboard. Iris held her breath each time hospital security scanned her body, and she was upset that they failed to protect Bulma and her family as well as everyone believed they were. No one thought she could be a mole.

Bulma hadn't moved much after Trunks and Tights left. Iris had to keep it that way until she finished.

"You'll be fine, Dr. Brief," she whispered. Bulma's eyes opened slightly. Then she grabbed Iris's neck.

The jolt struck Trunks and Vegeta like lightening.

"Dad!"

"I know!"

They sped to Bulma's room, arriving before security guards. To their horror, Iris lay unconscious on the floor. Tights called for Trunks to perform CPR until she placed shock pads on the woman's chest to restore her heart rhythm.

Vegeta approached his wife's bed while another nurse and the guards entered to help. He then looked back when they transferred Iris onto a stretcher.

"She's breathing now," Tights said, "and her windpipe isn't crushed. Bulma held her neck just long enough to cut off air."

"Which takes seconds when you're stronger," Vegeta said, noticing the syringe on the floor. "I'll stay."

Iris got too close. It must have startled Bulma in her semi-conscious state. He moved nearer, carefully seating himself. "You are fine," he said, taking her hand in his. "No one is trying to hurt you. Can you hear me, Bulma?"

She held on to his finger. Relieved, he looked up at the ceiling. Bulma tried to speak as he detached the bed rail. Trunks had returned biting his top lip. He felt agitated and desperately wanted a cigarette.

"Iris is being cared for downstairs. How is mom?"

Vegeta waved for him to come closer. "She hasn't said anything understandable yet, but she responded positively to my voice. Sit on the other side."

Trunks nodded for his father to speak mentally. "Papa, what do you think?"

"She was startled."

"What about her ki spike?"

"Give me time to think, son."

"We can't let this happen again. She might kill someone before we can stop her."

"Enough, Trunks! I fucking heard you! You are driving me crazy!"

Angry and hurt, Trunks ended their telepathic connection and kissed his mother's hand. "I'm leaving, papa. Bulla has been home alone for too long. Stay with mom. You need to be alone."

Vegeta didn't watch his son leave. What more could be said? They would resolve their differences. They always did.

Bulma's skin coloring now matched his. Her tail – the tail – lay at an angle near him, propped on pillows. Her hair, the once-exquisite, striking example of her physical beauty, now had a new "personality."

But she was alive.

He soon fell into a deep sleep by her side for hours. No one disturbed them that morning, except for the sunlight streaming through the window blinds.

"Wake… up, Vegeta."

His head rose halfway. "You sure do know how to make an entrance, woman. I'm going back to sleep."

Thank you so much for the reviews! I appreciate the help and food for thought. Of course, I am glad so many of you remain interested and excited about this story.