Earlier: Vegeta and Bulma put their concerns about each other aside after Trunks comes down with an illness requiring their attention.

Interlude:

He'd written the letter before bringing Trunks to the village, keeping it hidden among his personal effects. His intelligence didn't translate into a having an enjoyment for writing, primarily because he believed that leaving transcribed evidence of one's thoughts in too many places could be used by enemies. Those beliefs weren't borne of paranoia. One of Frieza's commanders, whom Vegeta disliked less than most others, received a powerful lesson after a betrayal by one of his own students – a young man he'd taken under his wing who came from the same race. Accused of disloyalty, The commander unflappably accepted the subsequent directive from Frieza for his execution. Later, Frieza also ordered the young man to be slain, telling attendants that he couldn't respect anyone who lacked the strength of character to disclose this treachery in person. The commander had the right to face his accuser, which he wasn't afforded because the young man secretly sent the missive through one Frieza's aides.

But Vegeta wasn't a part of that life anymore, though it would always be a part of him. Every few paragraphs he considered this, placing the pen aside. As the memories piled on, writing became more difficult. He wanted Bulma to know more details about him but not focus on the nuts and bolts about how hard life had been at times, which she knew. Of course it was fucking hard - and after years of service, he was inured to living on the edge, and that distinctive kind of brutality he could inflict was the only route to achieving two lifetime missions: slaughtering Frieza and becoming a Super Saiyan.

Yet Vegeta still couldn't bring himself to reveal some details to Bulma in that letter, attributing his hesitance to cowardice. He'd have to make peace with that flaw in his character. But that was his burden, not hers. In the end, after destroying several drafts, he found the words:

Bulma,

The struggle you've faced isn't a breakdown. It's a renewal. You're bravely confronting your trials in a manner that I didn't with Babadi. On that day, I desperately clawed for the power that I believed I lacked, degrading myself. The tightrope of madness I walked along almost claimed me, all because I allowed evil to breach my mind and feast on the decay, grief, insecurity – and, in the end, aloneness – within me.

My rage toward Kakarot was as much about my ego as it was about being left all those years ago. I wish I could explain it in the right way, but the words aren't available because this letter isn't meant to be a defense or about being Saiyan.

Though I cannot take back my acts – and how my addiction has affected you - I deeply regret turning away from the foundation that the three of us have built together. I am proud of you.

Had it not been for you and our son…

I am so very sorry. - Vegeta

He meant what he said the morning after they made love about not begging for Bulma's acceptance, but not out of pride. No relationship could be maintained without both partners' full acceptance. Otherwise, the dynamic would ultimately remain imbalanced, underpinned by bitterness, leading them back to the point of separation. Bulma had every right not to accept, considering Vegeta's behavior, and he also had to reconcile that possibility with the future facing him.

"You said Saiyan adults and children?" Bulma inspected Vegeta's face for slight signs of illness.

"Bulma, there's nothing off-center with me."

"That's what Trunks said," she replied, fingering his temple. "Now look at him. What if you catch it and it's worse for you?"

"Well then, maybe it's better if you don't kiss me either," he replied, teasing her. "You didn't fool me with that useless finger fever test just now either. Tell you what, so you won't hassle me further, I'll let you take my temperature in the morning."

"Let me?" Bulma said, planting her fists on her waist. "Let me? Do I look like your handmaiden? What did you call me that one time? Oh, I remember! You used servant woman. I ain't forgot that shit, buddy. Take your own damn temperature."

"It was a joke." Vegeta's shoulders slumped like a boy who'd been caught being naughty. "You wouldn't stop talking. I was in the fucking shower. I didn't know you or how much you saw of my body!"

"Backhanded joke that was," Bulma sniffed, disregarding his protests. "The shower glass was frosted - and don't you dare enter the bedroom tonight – for anything."

What in hell just happened? Vegeta hung back as she imperially strode away. Oh yeah. Another one of her sneak attacks. That's how she got me in bed with her the first time. I'm not falling for it!

Waiting for the strength of Trunks's coughing to subside affected Vegeta. The new medicine didn't take long to relieve the boy's symptoms, but that felt like an eternity to his father. As Bulma predicted, Vegeta didn't sleep most of the night. She shook him awoke the next morning, taking over to nurse Trunks until the doctor's follow-up visit.

"Go get in bed," she suggested, kissing his cheekbone. "You did good last night, papa."

"OK." Vegeta's arms and legs stretched as he yawned. "Trunks needs more fluids in him."

"Let me handle that duty," Bulma said. "Get some exercise after you wake up too. We have several days of this with him. I'm going for a walk later. Rontana has cut off visitor and hiker access to this area, but there's still enough room for us to bask in the sun and enjoy nature."

Trunks rubbed his irritated sore throat. "Mama?"

Bulma smiled, heading to the boy's bedside. "Yes, hon. Give me a minute and I'll right with you. Your dad is going to rest in our bed. You're hoarse, so let's get some lemon and honey tea into you."

"Dad, are you OK?" Trunks asked listlessly. "Have you've been awake all night?"

Vegeta scratched his shoulder, leaving the room barefoot. "I'm not your worry. Do as your mother says - and follow the doctor's orders, which you should think of as mine."

"Yes, papa."

Vegeta looked back. "I'll be in to stretch your muscles later, son."

Bulma stepped out, closing the door temporarily. "He's doing well, but If his condition doesn't steadily improve over the next few days, then we may still have to transfer him to a recovery chamber at a secure hospital. I'll have to update my parents."

"We'll return to West City," Vegeta said.

"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it," Bulma replied. "Let's see where Doctor Laso stands. I want you to get a big meal, too, after you wake up, OK?"

Vegeta's fingers settled around her wrists, quieting her. "I love you."

Bulma's anxious breaths relaxed as their eyes reunited. "Those… those words come so easily to you now."

"They don't," Vegeta said, "but you know how I feel. If something happens to me, I want those words – along with my actions – to be engraved on your mind."

Bulma found sanctuary in his arms, and Vegeta in hers. "We could hug here like dolts all day, I suppose, but that can wait. I'll see after you wake up, when you're ready to blatantly lie about being gushy."

Vegeta's held the back of Bulma's head, resting his chin on top. I'll give her the letter once we're both less worried about Trunks. That would be the right time.

Another couple of days passed, bringing the parents greater relief. Trunks's cough had been kept in line, though other symptoms persisted. Vegeta got the boy up to walk around the cottage daily. He had to remind himself that other Saiyans – even the strongest ones – had been felled by a similar infection. But none had powers like him and Trunks. Nevertheless, he wouldn't test fate. He remembered Goku's near-fatal heart virus - being Super Saiyan didn't help him then.

Bulma had returned from feeding the chickens, contentedly sorting through her basket of fresh eggs. She'd taken a mid-sunrise walk in the woods before that. She had used a back stairwell to leave the cottage earlier instead of waking Vegeta. He had chosen to sleep on the sofa bed the night before. A pot of medium-roast coffee and hot plate of food were ready on the counter when she came in, courtesy of Vegeta. The lack of a smorgasbord breakfast for him aroused her interest.

Chewing on piece of bread slathered with strawberry jam, she exited the kitchen, glancing at a wooden wall clock near a front window. Vegeta was in an exhausted sleep. Bulma set her plate on pedestal table, wiping her hands on a napkin.

She sat down on the sofa's arm, gently raking her nails through his bedraggled hair. "Hey, thanks for breakfast. You're not hungry?"

Vegeta's eyes sluggishly unsealed. "How's the boy?"

"He's coming along," Bulma said, disliking how Vegeta had changed the subject. "Awake long enough to do crossword puzzles."

"I'll get him in about an hour to walk." He squinted as Bulma brightened the lamp beside her, arm flopping over his eyes. "Turn that down some, will you?"

"Not yet," Bulma replied, touching his forehead with the back of her hand. "Now move the remainder of your five-ton bicep from your face and peek at me."

"Bulma…"

"Now, Vegeta," she ordered tersely. "Don't make me ask again."

Not only were his movements dull, his replies were too. "What is wrong with you?" He hadn't caught on to the problem yet, but Bulma did after seeing his leaden red eyes. The surrounding skin was purplish.

"Shit. You're sick. Your eyes show it. We need to get you treated now. This could be worse than Trunks."

"Because of my face coloring?" Vegeta asked skeptically, moving her hand down. "Bulma, stop. I'll tell you what this is. I need to finish sleeping. The blood vessels around my eye sockets will readjust."

"Look here, Saiyan, with you and Trunks sick, it will be left up to me and that blasted robot to nurse you. Therefore, you will obey my requests. Got it?"

This got Vegeta's blood boiling. He angrily pulled himself up. "No, I don't got it, woman." The back of his T-shirt had sweat patches on both sides. "I'm tired. It happens once in a blue moon, even with someone like me. Maybe I made a mistake by telling you what happened on my planet."

"Oh, don't try that approach with me," Bulma said. "Our son is involved. You had no choice but to tell me."

Vegeta's head turned as his eyelids lowered. "I can hear Trunks coughing. Since I'm unhappily awake, I'll give him his dose of medicine. Do you have some food for him?" Standing brought about a surprisingly forceful bout of dizziness and nausea. He touched his brow unsteadily, looking at Bulma. "I guess I'm not...not feeling well. My strength seems to be draining, but not too substantially."

"But you're still unstable." Bulma caught his upper arm, helping him sit back down. "I'll get Dr. Laso. My panic moment is over. I'm sorry I crabbed at you. Let's get your temperature taken."

"Don't tell Trunks yet," Vegeta said in frustration. "He'll worry too much."

Bulma exhaled. "Just as you have over him, only more quietly than I expect Trunks will when he finds out about you. I'll have to say something eventually. In any case, you won't want to move the longer we stay out here, so getting you in bed is our focus now."

"I can walk."

"With me beside you, yes," Bulma said. "Put your arm over my shoulder."

"Bulma…."

"Now, Vegeta!"

He held up his arm, admitting defeat. "OK, OK." Somehow, they both still managed to laugh at each other's stubbornness. "I'm sorry. This was supposed to be..."

"I'm all right. It could always be worse. Don't give me a reason to call Goku yet either."

Vegeta scowled. "I'll do whatever you say."

Vegeta's symptoms began similarly to Trunks's, bar the vertigo, until his fever spiked much higher and a headache set in. The onset of coughing and wheezing swept through him like wildfire. This time, Dr. Laso appeared much less at ease. He had been far into the woods hiking, unaware of the unfolding emergency until several hours later. He didn't change clothes at his cabin after receiving Bulma's message, flooring his truck's accelerator to reach the cottage.

He took Bulma's hand, softly patting it. "Sorry to have kept you both waiting so long. I stupidly thought my wrist communicator was on." He retained his comforting manner, kneeling beside to his newest patient, but the careful clinician in him reflected during his steady, attentive examination. Afterward, he administered a stronger dose of the medicine to Vegeta than what Trunks had.

Recognizing how ill Vegeta had become in such a short time profoundly worried him. He urgently led Bulma back to the living room. "You realize this may be the first child-to-adult transmission of this virus. That opens a truckload of concerns about contagion and quarantine. I took an oath when I became a physician to serve the sick to the best of my ability, so I accept what could happen to me, but I cannot keep this development quiet if others could be harmed. Have you spoken with your parents?"

Bulma nodded. "I have. Neither have had problems. As soon as we received the genomic scan, I forwarded it to my father. He checked for antibodies in his and my mother's blood. Nothing there. Let's remind ourselves that we're also past the fourteen-day window when my parents could have become sick."

"But Vegeta is, Bulma, and he's clearly presenting much sicker than Trunks. I want him in a hospital, today, on a quarantined ward. I don't care -"

Bulma's fist hit a side table to silence him. "Doctor, please, sit down and listen. We're both good scientists. I know game theory and how it could be applied to potential disease outbreaks, and I am just as concerned - but Vegeta isn't human. He immigrated here from outer space. That's what you should know before taking further action. His lineage -"

"Bulma, stop talking this instant!" Vegeta's mottled arms blocked the living-room door, his face a fiery red. "Stop…stop talking. Can't...trust." He breathed and coughed like a planet had landed on his ribcage. His hooded eyes looked bruised. "Leave... her... alone," he warned, deliriously directing his ire at the doctor. Whatever specter this hallucination called up superimposed over the doctor's face, confusing his perception. He knew this man, but Laso appeared possessed like one of Badadi's minions. His two right fingers rose, shakily aiming for the man's chest.

"Shit!" Horrified, Bulma turned toward Dr. Laso, preparing to tackle the puzzled man out of harm's way. "Vegeta! No, honey! Stop, please! I'm all right!" He showed hesitation, so Bulma had seconds to slap her wrist for T.B. to fire a potent tranquilizer into him. The robot was also equipped to open a protective shield, but there was scant assurance that they wouldn't be harmed if Vegeta fired a blast.

Is this what happened on his planet to people when they became sick?! This didn't happen with Goku. She'd seen Vegeta delirious after injuries before, but this was the first time he'd acted out. Fortunately for them all, his vertigo took him down. His stamina fell apart as he swooned and collapsed on his side, coughing and gasping.

Trunks stumbled down the stairs. "Mom! What's happening?! Oh my god! Dad! "

"Trunks, stay upstairs!" Dr. Laso stooped next to Vegeta, speaking with firm composure. "Hand me my bag, Bulma. It's his fever. Let's put him in the tub for a lukewarm bath. Between that and the medicine we can stabilize him enough, but we must get him to hospital. At all costs, we have to control this fever so he won't have a seizure." He shined a penlight into Vegeta's unfocused eyes. "You'll be just fine, my friend. I promise would never hurt Bulma."

Trunks defied the doctor's orders, standing above his father. "Stand back, Bear." The boy's hands came together, palms up, forming a butterfly shape. Golden energy lines outlined his fingers. Vegeta's supine body rose from the floor. "Don't follow me yet. I'll get him to the bathroom."

Stunned, Dr. Laso stared at Bulma. "You need to tell me everything. I'm not angry - yet - but I believe I'm entitled the fullest truth you can provide."

"I'm sorry." Bulma looked back, holding the door frame. "I can work around from where we began, doctor. My son is still ill, too, and his disobedience may have drained his strength enough to keep him sick for longer. I agree that they both should be hospitalized. I know where you're thinking about admitting Vegeta, so I'll have a Capsule Corporation drone deliver a stealth plane fitted with medical equipment to fly there. How long can you be absent from your medical practice?"

Dr. Laso wiped his brow and face, using a cloth the robot gave him. "For as long as I need to be, considering these events. There's another practitioner in town."

Trunks was crying as Bulma and the physician entered the bathroom. "I did this, mama. He's sick because of me."

Vegeta murmured, weakly opening his eyes to take his son's hand. "Nonsense."

Bulma hugged and kissed Trunks as Dr. Laso undressed Vegeta. "Papa is in extremely good hands, sweetie, just like he was in yours."

Vegeta awoke in a large, sunny room, though the interior design was strictly no-frills - mostly for the convenience of the medical staff tending to him and Trunks. Easier to get in and out. His body had been positioned under a tent that kept the air quality comfortable. Trunks's bed also had a tent. Fortunately, the room's ventilation system wasn't too loud to keep him awake either. The drugs likely helped too.

How much did she tell that doctor about me? Anxiety and anger absorbed him. Bulma already had two Capsule Corporation employees being paid top dollar to research his genome. Even they didn't know his origins or whom they were studying. How much of the fucking world knew now? Of course, Goku had landed in hospital many times before, but those everyday doctors treated his injuries like anyone else, minus extensive research. Bulma's father had better technology to help Goku and Vegeta heal faster. But virulent illnesses were a far cry from having bones broken or being impaled through one's shoulders.

"You're awake! We shouldn't use our voices, papa, I think. How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. You?"

"Um, better than you, I guess."

"Nothing to guess about, Trunks. Either you do or you don't."

"All right. I don't feel like shit as much as you."

"Are you walking more?"

"Uh, yeah."

Vegeta sipped on water to stem his coughing, cursing to himself. He would need more medicine. "Took too long to answer that. This room is big enough for you to fly in, boy."

"Dad, will you chill?"

"Chill what?"

"I mean, you just woke up. Can't you say you're happy to see me?"

"Why do you think I just said get up and walk around? That is my happy. I need my tent more that you require yours, apparently – but not long."

Trunks left his bed with gusto, kicking up more of Vegeta's anxiety. The boy's features had improved, but Vegeta hated that his son was still hospitalized. Meanwhile, Trunks's kid brain considered none of this as important as having a bedside gabfest with his papa. Vegeta's "stay away" face had lost its fearsomeness temporarily to his chagrin. He wanted his son to walk, not be a superhero.

Trunks dumped the contents of his memory, telling Vegeta about how they got there and how well the hospital's staff were treating them. "Mom and Doctor Laso were honest with me, papa. They worried that what happened to you could affect other people. But it hasn't - and doesn't look like it will."

Vegeta gave himself a minute to celebrate that satisfying news. "Very good."

"You haven't asked about mom."

"You've brought her up before I could, so speak."

The boy thought about his tough discussion with Bulma about how her relationship with Vegeta began. "She's been strong, papa. Scared for us, but not sad or depressed. Not like she was before coming to the village."

The stress lines around Vegeta's still-crimson eyes lessened. "There's more you want to say."

Trunks squirmed apprehensively despite his father's calm. "When… did you fall in love with her?"

Of all the questions I get to answer. Vegeta had no clue what Bulma told the boy, and at that moment wished she would arrive to distract them. "Why do you ask?"

Trunks recalled his mother's comments about privacy. "Never mind. Let's talk about something else."

Vegeta adjusted his bed's headboard to sit up more comfortably. "Seems you and your mother had a conversation. I'll take a wild guess and say you were upset. Am I on track?"

"Uh, kind of."

"Without knowing everything Bulma said, I'll confirm that it took a while for me to figure out how I felt about your mother, let alone about myself."

"Mom said your priorities weren't aligned."

Vegeta almost laughed himself into coughing. "Oh she did?" His hand laid on his chest.

Baffled, Trunks brought his chair closer. "What's so funny?"

"Your mother's choice of words. I'll cut to the chase, son. I was an ass. There you go. Mystery solved."

A guarded smile broadened on Trunks's face. "You have more to say?"

Vegeta returned to paternal sobriety. "No, I don't, Trunks. It's not easy for me to discuss - even with you, and I trust you with my life. Since you're up and about, I'll leave bed too for a spell. Screw staying under this tent."

This made Trunks uneasy. He spoke aloud. "Dad, you've been knocked out in that bed for six days and still look terrible. Maybe wait another day."

"Six days." Vegeta's eyebrows knitted. "That long, eh?" His voice had the timbre of cement crusher, and his breathing sounded no better. "If that's...that's the case, then I definitely need to get up. Hand me those slippers."

Trunks reluctantly put the shoes on Vegeta's feet, eying his father's steadiness. He disliked what he saw – or, rather, what he couldn't sense. "I've been thinking. We've learned the hard way a lot lately that just becoming Super Saiyan isn't enough to protect us from everything. Even mom's machines aren't foolproof."

"Heh, don't tell...tell your mother that," Vegeta said. "I want you to leave this hospital with all your original teeth."

"Not funny, dad."

Vegeta's shoulders hunched as he coughed. "I don't need to be a Super Saiyan to stand. I just need…" He swallowed, resting his hand on the guardrail. It galled him that this much damage had been done, but his lungs would heal and maybe come out stronger. "I just need…"

Just then, Bulma and Dr. Laso entered. Vegeta still tried to stand, which exasperated them. Both swooped in front of Trunks, rescuing Vegeta before he passed out again. Bulma stared at their ashamed son, holding her tongue so she wouldn't lecture him.

"It's not...not his fault," Vegeta said, lying back in bed. Dr. Laso changed the climate inside the tent to help his breathing, awaiting Bulma's response.

Bulma pushed Vegeta's slippers underneath the bed. "I know it's not, Vegeta, but I wish you'd stop being the leading man long enough to recuperate. It doesn't set a good example for him."

"Mom -"

"This is between your papa and me, Trunks. Doctor Laso, thank you. Now please step out while I have words with these two."

"Of course, Doctor Brief. I'll be on the second floor. Just call me there when you're ready."

Bulma tweaked Trunks's cheek, smiling at him. "Get back in bed and put your headphones to occupy yourself, young man. I'll take this up with you later. As for you, Vegeta, do not say another word. Use telepathy."

Vegeta complied. He was Bulma's prisoner of war now. "What kind of example should I set for him? We can't snap our fingers and change his personality. He wanted to help. I want him to see –"

Bulma didn't respond straightaway, choosing to readjust Vegeta's pillows underneath the tent until more of his coughing subsided. "See what? To see that a warrior can solider through the pain? He's well-aware of that. He's done it himself, but he almost lost you already. Of course your sickness has triggered him. Have you just chucked all we've done to reassure him out the window because he's seeing another side of your vulnerability?"

"Whether I'm ill like I am now or fighting, Trunks will have to confront the unknown and stand up for himself. No amount of crying or laments would bring me back if I died today - nothing. The difference is Trunks won't be resentful like I was after my planet and any family who cared for me were taken – and when I was handed to Frieza. Our son's confidence is grounded in knowing how important he is to us."

Bulma closed her eyes and breathed. "There's more to this, I take it?"

"Reassurance doesn't equal coddling, Bulma. Our son will lose confidence if I hold back. I didn't coddle him before, and I won't now. Eventually, it will be his choice to continue what you and I have started with him. And, yes, there's more. Just think about the older Trunks."

"The other Trunks? Why? What about him?"

"I gave him hell - and I'd do it again, though maybe not in the same way."

"Yeah, my post-pregnancy memories are as clear as a bell. You were quite sullen and surly. All he wanted was your acceptance."

Bulma almost felt like laughing, but in a strange way. The feeling came not much from an urge to completely dismiss the subject –- or Vegeta - or change the topic out of discomfort, but more so because those days before, during and after Cell's arrival changed so many lives. Vegeta was grappling with his emotions, perhaps from past actions that now felt that much more contradictory.

He clenched and relaxed his right fist, spreading his fingers wide like a paper fan. "True, but I also couldn't afford to fuss over him – and, yes, I was furious because he achieved what I hadn't yet. The boy hadn't recognized just how special that was… or how special he was. All that power at his fingertips."

"I'm not so certain about that, Vegeta."

"Well, I am. Too much was at risk. If he walked around wallowing in what he couldn't have, then he would have left this planet still second-guessing himself - Super Saiyan or not - or just died, along with the rest of us. He almost did. I couldn't abide by that, especially as a Saiyan. Better to hate my guts and stay alive than to be buried in an unmarked grave like the other Vegeta…his true father. But that Vegeta, too, still went down swinging."

So that's what this is. The realization finally hit Bulma. What happened to the other Trunks pains him. I had no idea. Her fingers joined with his. "And what does all this have to do with our normally jovial and loving eight-year-old and your unwillingness to stay in bed?"

Vegeta's hold on her hand strengthened, as if her life force were flowing into him. "This is our time to get off the fence. Can we both go down swinging if we're faced with another challenge?"

"What do you think I've done all along?" she replied. "The selfish part, for which I'll never apologize, is I want you to do everything you can to return when I can't be there, using the tools I give you. There can be honor in sacrificing one's life, but a significant part of winning is living to relish its sweetness."

Wrestling with his pride, Vegeta asked, "And what about Kakarot?"Bulma had wondered whether he'd go there. "Respect was shown for what you could achieve with Goku and without him. Think about that, Vegeta. If there's anyone who sees the man you are and your motivations, it's Goku. I hope that one day you recognize and accept that for yourself."

By that time, Doctor Laso came to deliver medicine again. "Don't turn that temper on me, fella. Blame Bulma. I'm putting this drug in your IV. Not to worry."

Vegeta's breathing improved, giving him a stronger voice. "That's easy for you to say, Laso. But most… most importantly, you've helped our son. I will never forget."

"Thank you, and for the record, you aren't the only planetary immigrant – with powers - that this medical center has served successfully. "The doctor removed the needle from the IV, looking down. Also, I want to thank you and Bulma for inspiring me to return to bioscience. I, too, will never forget. I'll check back after dinner."

Dr. Laso smiled at Bulma, touching her shoulder in passing. He had an inkling of what would come next, which left him hopeful.

Bulma held up Vegeta's head as drowsiness set in. "I found your letter in my rucksack after we brought you here. Thank you. It means so much to me."

Vegeta exhaled, reaching for her left hand. "Before this puts me… to sleep, I have one more ask."

"Yes?"

"Be my mate… my wife… until our dying days… make it official."

Passion and warmth welled in Bulma's heart. "I love you - and yes, yes, I will be your mate. Until our dying days."

After Vegeta's and Trunks' full recoveries, Rontana welcomed the family back to the village with compassionate and nonjudgmental open arms. She also assured Bulma that settlement operations weren't in danger of closure. Trunks thrived, surrounded by nature unlike that near West City. He stuck with his school studies and explored the depth of his parents' personalities. Even as a youngster, he came to recognize Bulma and Vegeta much more now than just "mama and papa."

Vegeta spent weekends in West City, allowing Bulma and himself respite to reflect. Many questions and answers would have to be addressed along the way, but they strove to walk hand-in-hand to make their partnership unforgettable - sealing their commitment with a long kiss at their modest, happy wedding.

Hello to all new followers and thanks to my follow-up commenters! This isn't the end. :)