AN: This chapter is a little less fluffy, and a little more dark. Because we can't have a story about Vegeta without a bit of darkness, now can we? (Also, it is official that Mrs. Brief's name is Panchy, just in case anyone is confused by this.)

That night, Bulma tossed and turned in bed. She was still angry with herself. She knew it was stupid and pointless, but she couldn't help it. She wasn't used to trying so hard at something, only to fail at it. Things just came so easily for her, and had all of her life. She was one of the smartest people in the world! Somehow, she felt betrayed by her own body. Slightly encouraged by the fact that she had come close, she rose carefully from the bed. Vegeta was out like a light. He had trained for half the day after he made sure that she was "going to live" as he put it. She watched him for a second or two as he breathed deeply. He lay on his stomach, his face half- buried in his pillow. His favorite position. Even when she wasn't under him, he dominated the bed. Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a giggle at the thought. Her eyes lingered on him a moment longer. He was her inspiration. She wanted to show him she was strong. He knew it, of course, or he never would have picked her in the first place, but there was something different about this. Something that felt more like proof. Ki was his own special language. She would feel more connected to him and her friends, even if she was never a fighter. They all had the life force, and utilizing it would make her feel just a little more powerful; part of something amazing. Nodding to herself in the dark, she slowly walked over to the sliding glass door. Clad in nothing but a silken shift, the night air of spring hit her briskly. She ignored it, stepping out on to the balcony and sliding the door shut again. She hoped that the breeze on his naked skin wouldn't wake Vegeta. He was sleeping pretty hard, but she still gave it a 50/50 chance. He was a warrior, after all.

The fresh air revitalized her, and even though she was told (by Trunks as well as Vegeta) to go a little easier from now on, she focused hard on her ki. Surprisingly, it came much faster this time. She barely had to work at it before she felt energy building in her belly. As she stood there, everything came alive again. The wind blew through her hair, sighing. The crickets sang out, and the stars shone brightly. Her cool fingers trembled over her stomach, gathering, holding fast. There was an intense pull, almost like a painless contraction, and then...it was there. She felt it before she opened her eyes. The glow. It was a soft lavender color. Just like Trunks's hair. It was the most beautiful color she had ever seen. It was...her. Suddenly she realized it. Everything made sense. This was who Vegeta was. Why he lived and breathed. This was...like magic.

Her ki ball hovered close to her, still in the cage of her hands. It fluttered like a butterfly, so fragile. It started to dim, and she added more strength to it, her belly clenching. It seemed so natural now. She wanted to make more. Biting her lip, she pulled more out of herself. The energy built, little by little. The soft purple ki grew lighter, stronger. She kept pulling, more and more. Her hands spread out. It was the size of a beach ball now. It was amazing. She laughed, her voice high and manic. So this was power. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice was telling her to stop. Not too much. You shouldn't do too much. But a larger part of herself said Shut up, this feels good. So good. She kept going until it was almost painful. Her body vibrated with what was almost orgasmic as her power built further. The ki was even larger now. She had a sudden urge to launch it out into the air and watch it explode.

Suddenly a hand was clasping her wrist. She cried out in panic, spinning around. Her ki was aimed right at Vegeta's chest. His eyes were a bit wide, but he didn't look too alarmed. What seemed scary to her was nothing to him.

"Impressive." He said. His brow cocked at her. "It feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yeah." She laughed again, sounding crazier than the last time.

"Feeling powerful, are we?" He mocked, softly. "You can only imagine what it's like for me. You, woman, are just the tip of the iceberg." He laughed. "If you feel powerful right now, imagine feeling it a one-thousand fold. Imagine-" He was cut off by the sudden vanishment of her ki. She hadn't launched it into the sky like she wanted to. His words had made it all go up in smoke, like a cheap magic trick. All of that effort, all that power (her very own power!) and she had been so excited to let him see it. Now he was shoving it back in her face, by doing what he did best. Bragging. About himself. His own power. Hers meant very little to him. Her hands went limp at her sides, and her head bowed. She could feel her face burning up with anger. How dare he?

"I told you not to use too much, Bulma. Now look at you, you have no-" He was suddenly taken aback as she punched him as hard as she could, right in the chest. He stumbled, losing his balance for a second...and only because he had been caught off guard. She looked up into his face, her eyes fiery. She expected to see that fire blazing back at her, but his eyes were only widened in bewilderment..

"What the hell is the matter with you, woman?!"

"YOU, that's what! I can't believe you!" She shouted. When he still looked perplexed, she screamed.

"I finally use my ki, for the first time in my entire life, and...it feels so great! But YOU! You start bragging about your OWN power! Honestly, I don't even know why I try! There is NO point!" His eyes finally lit up with their own flame.

"No point! Don't tell me you did this to impress ME? How childish! Are you one of my children now, that you need to show me how strong you are?" His voice took on an infantile tone. "Oh, look at me! Look how much POWER I have! Aren't you proud?"

"How DARE you make fun of our children?! They would give their HEARTS to you on a PLATTER! They WORSHIP you! And do you know WHY? Because they DON'T. KNOW. ANY. BETTER." She spat out the last words like bile, a whip striking him in the face. He flinched. The fire went out of his eyes like she had doused him in ice water. He stepped back, grabbing the handle behind him and throwing open the door. He didn't say a word, but there were whole sentences in his eyes. And each one of them was about pain. About his past. Pain that the woman he loved like no other person in the universe could ever be cruel enough to lash at him with that whip. It was one weapon against him that he wouldn't tolerate. He stepped backwards into their room, and slid the door shut. Ominously slow. His eyes bored into her from the other side of the glass as he turned the lock. It clicked, the sound of the tumbler as loud as a blast of thunder. Startled out of her anger, Bulma stepped forward, leaning against the door. She put her hand out, palm up, where his chest was. She pressed into the cold glass like she was pressing into his heart, soothing the pain she had left there.

"Vegeta…" She whispered. But he was relentless.

"You want to get off? Then fly off." The words were thrown at her, sharp and final. They hit their target. Legs giving out, Bulma landed hard on her knees and choked back a sob. All of the elation she had felt about her new-found powers trickled away. She could feel it rolling off of her, along with the cold spring rain that started to pour down on her naked skin.

It seemed like it was hours before her son found her. Hot tears spilled down her face, burning into her cold skin. She shivered, her body curling up. Sometimes she would get angry again and bolt back up, slamming her hands against the wet glass. She screamed at Vegeta until she was hoarse. Until all her anger evaporated when she realized that she couldn't sense his ki. He had went to another part of the house. Mercilessly avoiding her pleas. After awhile, she even went to the edge of the balcony. She tried to summon her ki again. If I just...step off and let my ki carry me...Maybe I'll make it. It's not that far down, right? I could survive that. I could… But when she tried to pull out her ki, she felt repulsed by that look on Vegeta's face. Not the bragging one. The one he made after she'd lashed out at him. That pained look. She's only seen it a couple of other times. Each time swearing to herself that she would never hurt him like that again. How wrong she had been. If he had physically bled, she wouldn't have been surprised. She felt so cruel. Because they don't know any better. She had said. Your children only love you because they don't know how much of a monster you are. If she had said that, he wouldn't have been any more hurt. Her hands came up to cover her wet face. How could she apologize to him after that? Forget him teaching her how to fly. Forget him even looking at her for… Who knew how long? Her mind was invaded with all of these thoughts, and she had built herself up to be so horrible and small-hearted that she felt like throwing up again. In the end, she just curled up again under the small table and tried to forget what she had said. Only after she started to get delirious from fever did she sense Trunks, kneeling over her.

"Mom! What are you doing out here?" His hand, so like his father's, touched her forehead. "Oh, Mom. Let's get you inside." As he lifted her up, he tried to open the sliding door. She wasn't sure why he would think it was open. Would she really be huddled out here in the rain if she could get back in so easily? He had to know it was about Vegeta. Surely he heard them fighting earlier. Her thoughts were confirmed when he swore under his breath.

"Dammit, Dad. What the hell did you do?" He tucked her closer to his body and smoothed her wet hair out of her eyes.

"It's okay, Mom. I'll get you inside." He didn't even ask why she was here. He didn't need to. Despite what she had shouted at Vegeta, her son knew about him. He knew what he was capable of. And he knew that it could erupt like a dormant volcano. At any time.

She awoke to the smell of coffee. Everything was warm and soft. Her head felt as heavy as lead, and when she tried to sit up, her arms shuddered underneath her. She was terribly weak.

"She's awake, Nana!" Bra's sweet voice hit her like nails being driven into her skull. She winced, but couldn't find the voice to say anything. Then her mother was hovering over her.

"Oh, sweet darling! You're awake! I'm so glad. Here, drink this tea. It should fix you right up." Bulma reached out a shaky hand for the steaming mug.

"No coffee?" She croaked.

"Hmm. Mama says tea is best for now, okay, love? We don't want that little heart of yours pounding any harder, now do we? You had quite the fever last night. Whatever were you thinking, going out into the rain at night?" Her mom asked, cheerfully.

Little heart, Bulma thought. Very little indeed.

"Mom? Where's...Vegeta?"

"Oh, I'm not sure, honey. Do you know where your papa is, Bra-chan?" Panchy asked. Bra's face grew a little upset.

"He's training with Trunks...I think…" Bulma understood her look right away. Training? More like beating each other up. Even though she wasn't so angry at Vegeta anymore for locking her out (she mostly felt miserable) she hoped that Trunks was getting the most hits in.

"Did Trunks look...angry when you saw him, Bra?" She asked. The little girl nodded slowly, her big blue eyes sad and confused.

"It'll be okay, honey." She reached a hand out and weakly stroked her daughter's hair.

"Are you better, now, Mommy?"

"Almost, sweetheart." She smiled softly. Her mom put her hand on Bra's shoulder.

"Guess what, dear? Nana needs some help in the kitchen! I'm making cookies!" Bra's face brightened, but Bulma could still see a hint of concern there, for both of her parents. She was abnormally observant for a three-year-old.

"Go help her, baby." Bulma whispered. She watched as the little girl scampered off. She wanted to get up and do something, maybe even find Vegeta, (even though she was sure he wouldn't forgive her just yet) but her strength was already ebbing from that short conversation. She leaned back on the pillows of the couch, satisfying herself with the cheerful voices coming from the kitchen.

Hours later, she woke up again, feeling revived. As soon as her eyes opened, she could sense Vegeta. He wasn't close by anymore, but he had been there. His ki had a lingering effect. She cast her senses toward the kitchen, wondering if it was just because he'd gotten something to eat. He had been there, but she also felt him here, by the couch. She touched her face, her hair, as if she knew whether or not he had been there. The teacup on the side table was gone, her mother's doing. She didn't remember doing much more than cradling it in her hands. Everything else seemed undisturbed. She sighed. It was just like him to wait until she was asleep to approach her, then leave no sign of being there. But at least she knew he was not angry with her anymore. Maybe the fact that he had gotten her sick actually managed to make him feel guilty. Laughter rang out in her head. Guilt was a color Vegeta rarely wore. It was seen on him about as often as "relaxed" or "content".

It was when she sat up without feeling dizzy or weak that she realized it. He had given her his ki. Her eyes misted over. After what she had said, injuring him to the core, he still came back to her. He gave her part of himself without hesitation. She stood up, her mind alert to his lingering ki. She wanted to follow it like a bloodhound.

Bulma was almost to the gravity room when she sensed Trunks. He was coming out of the shower further down the hallway.

"Oh, hey Mom! You're alright!" He ran toward her, towel and all.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just want to talk to your father." She peered into the window. "I see he's hard at work though. Probably won't appreciate the interruption."

"Meh, I don't think he minds as much when it's you."

"Maybe. Trunks, did you...attack him earlier?" The boy's face turned red and he looked to the floor.

"Well, yeah Mom… You were in pretty bad shape last night, and I was pissed. Er, angry. What even happened?" He asked, pinning her with his blue eyes.

"It was mostly my fault, believe it or not. I said something to him...Something I shouldn't have said, Trunks."

"So...he locked you out in the cold rain? That's still wrong!"

"I know. But, he's..well, Vegeta. He still believes in vengeance sometimes, even with me, I guess." She smiled weakly, but Trunks frowned, still angry.

"Yeah, well. I gave him a piece of my mind a couple of hours ago."

"Hmm. How did that go?"

"He...he let me. It was weird. I've never fought him like that before. He didn't even throw a punch. Guess he feels bad for what he did."

"I guess so." They both turned when they heard the hum of the gravity amplifier powering down. The red light faded into white and Bulma peeked through the window, looking for her husband. She spotted him over in the far corner of the room, down on one knee. He was panting hard, and even from here she could see he was singed in several places. So… She slowly reviewed in her head. He lets Trunks beat him up, gives me his ki, and then tortures himself excessively in his training. Yeah, he's guilty alright. But I can't let on that I know. Trunks looked over her shoulder.

"Wow. He looks wrecked. He must have been using 450 this time. That's the highest he can go."

"450 times Earth's gravity?! What's that idiot trying to do? Kill himself? Dammit, Vegeta. No one is as stubborn as him." She growled. Trunks chucked.

"Isn't that the truth? Well, I'll leave you to it. I don't think he's too happy with me right now. Beating him up and all."

"Are those burn marks from you?"

"What?" Trunks peered in, keeping his head low, even though he knew Vegeta could sense him there. "No, that's not...I only used my fists. He must have got those from the bots."

"Oh, okay. It's good to know you're not treating your father like an ash tray."

"Mom! Come on, I was defending your honor!" He smiled as he said it, lighthearted. He was used to his parents fighting, and knew that it was never something they couldn't recover from.

"Well, thank you, Trunks. I do appreciate it." She leaned forward and brushed his forelock aside, kissing the skin underneath.

"Love you."

"Love you too, Mom. Tell me how it went, kay?" He smiled over his shoulder and sauntered off, whistling. Bulma watched him leave, realizing that he was wearing nothing but a towel cinched around his waist, and he had still let her kiss him on the forehead and say she loved him. How did she raise such a sweet boy with Vegeta? The idea still boggled her from time to time.

Turning to the door, she took a deep breath, then punched in the code on the keypad. It identified her, and the thick metal door slid up with a chiming sound, admitting her. She stepped in carefully. He had turned the gravity off, but that wasn't the reason why she was treading softly. She felt for his energy (glad that she could do that now) noticing that it was toned down quite a bit. There wasn't anger there, but he still felt a bit...injured. Overriding it all was guilt. She pulled back, feeling bad for reading him too much. It could be a violation of sorts when he didn't feel like himself. She wandered casually over to him, and he pulled himself up to her height, legs shaking.

"Hey." She said softly.

"Hn." He greeted back. Sometimes he said 'hey' too, especially when she crawled into bed and woke him up late at night with kisses and her skin on his skin. She shook the image from her mind. His eyes were scanning her up and down, and she knew he was doing diagnostics on her. When his eyes unfocused, she could tell that he was reading her ki. He gave a slight nod, knowing it was strong now that he had given her some of his. She hoped that was not why he was so tired now. Surely he hadn't given her that much? He practically had an insurmountable supply at his disposal.

She stepped closer to him, reading his ki. It felt the same, and there was still no anger. She wanted badly to touch him, but wasn't sure quite yet. There was still some things she needed to say first.

"Vegeta...I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said...you know." She looked at him, but his eyes were pointed to his right, and all she got was his profile. He did this whenever things got emotional. She saw the subtle jump in his cheek as his jaw tightened, and a twitch of his eyebrow.

"I was just so mad," She continued. "I wasn't...trying to impress you with my ki...But...I just wanted…"

"I know what you wanted." His eyes flicked toward her, then away again. "And I am proud of you. I shouldn't have to say it. You're...my...woman…" He brought his hand up to his forehead, pushing back the stray hair that fell down sometimes. He growled with frustration. She knew he was extremely uncomfortable in the face of all these feelings. Moving closer to him, she put her hand out. It rested on his armor, which felt warm from his workout. It was the armor that she made for him, and she was pleased to see what good shape it was still in. He leaned into her, surprising her by pressing his damp forehead against hers. She put her arms around his slender waist, burying her face in the crook of his neck. His musky scent was the strongest here, and she inhaled it slowly.

"My prince…" She whispered. He groaned and she felt relief there. Then she felt his hands in her hair.

"Why is it that we are so horrible at fighting anymore?" He said, huskily. "Remember when we would stay mad at each other for days? And actually enjoy it?" She brought her head up, smiling at him, and he chuckled.

"I remember," she said. "But I never really enjoyed it."

"Oh, I did." He cupped her chin with his gloved hand. "I used to get so angry at you that I was sure it was hate. But it was really lust. I got so turned on by our little fights."

"Oh, really?" Her eyebrow cocked up.

"Really. I couldn't stand it." He bent down and kissed her.

"Hn…" His legs bent, and he brought her down on the floor with him. She sat in his lap, her hands in his hair, and he gazed up at her, a mischievous smile on his face.

"I don't think we've done it in here since Trunks was a toddler." His eyes glistened. Want to?

She kissed him deeply and pulled him tighter. Heck yeah.