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"I know you are here, old man," Vegeta said. "Show yourself."

Dr. Brief stepped forward in the rising moonlight with a wrinkled cigarette drooping from his mouth. His unkempt, bristle-brush mustache almost hid his playful grin. The man rarely left the house, especially at night, without some kind of smoking accessory, including cigars, pipes, or bidis. For the life of him, Vegeta couldn't understand how anyone would want that garbage. He would rather take his chances with deadly allergic reactions.

"Meeeww!"

Dr. Brief clicked his tongue twice. "Tama, come down here, honey. It's time to leave our esteemed guest alone." The cat immediately descended from the tree so he could pick her up. Vegeta rolled his eyes in disgust.

"Enough of this heartwarming reunion," he said. "How did you know I was out here, Brief?"

"What if I told you a hoarde of squirrels were running from this direction, Vegeta? I thought maybe rain was coming, or perhaps an earthquake. Animals are quite perceptive, you know."

"Tch." Vegeta crossed his arms and returned to the ground. "Are they really? Your cat must be severely brain-damaged then."

Dr. Brief snorted through his laughter. The noise soured Vegeta's stomach, which usually was difficult to do.

"Tama certainly has you mad as a hornet's nest, son. I'm curious, though. Why haven't you made good on those numerous threats to kill her? You've had more than enough time."

Vegeta rubbed his forehead. He wondered how long it would take the old man to say why he was there.

"Your companion remains alive because I still need you to assist me, as much as I hate saying that. Why do you think I use my senses to track your whereabouts? You must stay unharmed for now. What happens to you later is not my concern, but I will gladly return and set that cat on fire."

Dr. Brief shook his head as Vegeta walked past him. "Tama sure is a lot like my daughter, isn't she, Vegeta? Maybe that's the real reason you can't take that next step."

Vegeta stopped in his tracks. The man must be losing his senses. Is Bulma is aware of this problem? I need him to work!

"Did I just hear you correctly? Tell me you are not comparing Bulma to that creature."

"Oh, stop acting simple-minded," Dr. Brief replied. "You know exactly what I mean, Saiyan. Tama is just as free-spirited and tough as Bulma. She holds her own in a fight, as you just found out. You thought I didn't know that. You are charmed by her."

Vegeta shut his eyes to remain patient, and he did not turn around. "I should have murdered the cat when I had the chance. And for your information, I recognized her fighting skills long ago. She put herself in a weak position this evening."

Dr. Brief extinguished his cigarette and sighed. "Stay away from my daughter, Vegeta."

"Brief, you are walking on shaky ground. I suggest that you…"

"Don't tell me what to do on my home turf, young man! I'm not afraid of you. I should be, feasibly, but the older one gets, the less one cares about pissing off assholes like you."

"And your point is, doctor?"

"Besides my wife and Bulma's sister, that girl is the most precious thing to me. I cannot have her distracted, and like you said, you need us."

"I have not done anything!" Vegeta snapped. The lie slipped off his tongue so fast that he almost felt ashamed.

Yeah, right.

"I wonder how angry Bulma would be hearing this."

"Frankly, I don't care," Dr. Brief said, examining his now bare-naked oak tree. He considered it a metaphor for Vegeta's state of mind. The prince had experienced significant trauma, and now his clashing emotions were being stripped apart, piece by piece. For someone as hot-blooded Vegeta, this was a dangerous place to be. Bulma couldn't be drawn into his quicksand, not if her father had anything to say about it.

"Vegeta, I may be old, but I'm not near death either - and I'm very much a man. I saw what happened between you on the grounds yesterday. It won't be long before you fully act on that desire, unless you restrain yourself. You are capable, I'm sure."

"Hn. I do not have to explain myself to you."

"No, you don't, son. You obviously heard me, though, or else you wouldn't still be standing here - and I would be dead and buried, regardless of your need for help."

"Consider me gone then," Vegeta said. "We meet at the gravity room at what time tomorrow?"

"At 8 a.m.," Dr. Brief said.

"That is late for me."

"Do I look like I care? I'm testing the bots again before you arrive. Now sod off so I can enjoy my next cigarette."

Vegeta's head was throbbing, but he apparently just learned a new curse word from the old man. At least he got that reward. He committed human vulgarities to memory for future use, along with several rude hand gestures. Bulma knew many colorful ones.

These people have been on the verge of destruction repeatedly since I met them - before I met them - yet they have the nerve to be mouthy. I do not know how much more of this I can take.

###

It had been a year and a half now since Vegeta had been living at the Capsule estate with the Briefs, and for Bulma, it was getting harder to pretend that everything was normal. Lives were in serious danger. His intense presence reminded her of that daily, and the stress was wearing her down. Still, she and Dr. Brief managed to run their business and support Vegeta's training successfully.

For his part, the Saiyan prince rewarded their efforts with the hardest labor he could offer. Bulma and her father couldn't help but admire his work ethic, in spite of his attitude. These days, Bulma sometimes had to remind herself that he wasn't heroically taxing himself just for them. Vegeta had a huge axe to grind with Son Goku, and that concerned her just as much as their future battle with the androids. There would be hell to pay between the two rivals later on - if they lived.

When he wasn't training, Vegeta was trying to learn new things. That is, he felt more comfortable now showing interest. It was always there. Sometimes, when he cooled off from exercising, he would listen to educational recordings. He hadn't told Bulma directly, but she knew, and he eventually shared it with her. Everyone recognized that he was whip-smart, but thoughtful?

Who the heck was this?

Bulma never made a big deal about his discoveries but instead listened and answered questions like a peer, not like a bossy teacher. He appreciated it. That was the strange part. Intimacy had developed: They were working more closely together, eating with her parents, and, more often, sharing inside jokes. Vegeta, however, still kept his distance. It had been that way for months, ever since they argued in his room, but Bulma didn't sense resentment from him, nor did she regret anything she said. His personality hadn't changed that dramatically. His "pride" issues and egotism remained, but his responses to the world around him had become more nuanced.

More often, the prince would abruptly end their arguments about his work demands when Dr. Brief appeared. He'd grumble about it, for sure, but then said nothing further. He would leave Bulma and her father to their own devices, trusting that she heard enough to labor differently. Dr. Brief would nod respectfully at Vegeta before focusing on his daughter and their duties.

Lately, the Briefs noticed something unexpected from him: depression. Vegeta would never be Mr. Sunshine, but this was different from his usual ill-tempered behavior. He never spoke of it, naturally. He also didn't realize how they viewed him. With each passing day, despite how hard he trained, he was becoming more somber. Bulma rarely heard him rant about ascending to Super Saiyan. His anger almost seemed like it was transforming into resignation. That wasn't good, despite her mixed feelings about him being there generally. The dice had been rolled about where Vegeta stood. She and Dr. Brief hoped they wouldn't get snake eyes and lose the game.

It was the middle of the week, and Bulma's tiny manicured feet were planted firmly on her desk. The day had been long, and her father's scientific musings on the phone were trying her patience. He had been working from a remote lab in the mountains, and she would join him soon, but first she had to hand some work to employees. Their chat prevented her from accomplishing that goal, and she wanted to leave shortly for the swimming pool.

"Daddy, I'm not sure if this is the right thing to do. We're in the second year, so you know we don't have much time left. We should finish other tools to help the guys when they fight. They're still scattered everywhere for training, and Vegeta…"

"And Vegeta what?"

"Eiyeeeee!"