Bulma sat in her room, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Letting out a tired huff, she turned on the bright lights that surrounded her mirror, squinting at their intensity. It had been two hours since she had left the party, and while she felt somewhat bad for her awkward exit, she had a thousand other things on her mind.

Rubbing her hand along her barely covered scalp, she began to bite down on her lower lip. While a lot of the fuzz on her head was coming in blue, there was a lot more gray than she would have cared to have seen. There were a lot more fine lines on her face than she remembered, and even her coloring seemed ever so slightly different. She was paler. Not much, not even enough to be noticed if no one was looking for it, but Bulma had always had an eye for details.

Looking down, she pinched the skin on the back of her hand, watching how quickly it snapped back. Not nearly as fast as it used to be, but considering her age, still pretty good.

Considering her age…she had been aware from the day she had been reintroduced to Gohan that she was forty years old, but until that moment she didn't feel that way. The party had been fairly fun, all things considered, but the more she thought about it, the more bothered she was by just how much life she was missing. Her friends were older, were married, and had kids. And all she had was…she had no idea what she had.

Feeling determined, Bulma slammed her hands down on the top of the vanity as she got to her feet. She whipped around and tore her door open, striding out with purpose. The heiress hopped down the stairs and headed straight to the kitchen, the most likely place for her mother to be.

Sure enough, the eternally perky blonde was scurrying around, tidying up after the party. "Oh, honey!" she perked up, seeing her daughter's arrival. "Are you feeling alright? Poor Goku was worried about you, he thought maybe you had made yourself sick or something!"

Bulma offered her mother a soft smile. "No, Mom, I'm fine," she assured. "Are the photo albums still where you used to keep them?"

Bunny straightened up and froze for a moment. "Oh, those?" she responded, trying to hide the tension in her voice. "What on earth do you want to see those boring old pictures for, dearie?"

"Because I'm missing twelve years of my life and I really want them back," Bulma casually answered. "I figure looking at the pictures, which I know you would have taken thousands of over the years, would at least get me looking in the right direction to ask the right questions."

"Oh, of course," Bunny answered, running a dishcloth through her fingers. "Well, their where they've always been," she quickly answered. "Have fun, dearie!"

Bulma raised her barely existent eyebrows at her mother's reaction. As far as she knew, her mother had never passed up an opportunity to look at pictures. When the woman wasn't playing in her gardens or cooking in her kitchen, Bunny Briefs practically lived in her photo albums. "Okay…" Bulma slowly said, heading out.

The heiress headed out to the main family room and popped open the glass cabinet just to the left of the television. There were dozens of photo albums there, all of which were meticulously put together by her mother. Flipping open the most recent one, she flipped to the last filled page.

A confused look crossed her face as she began to go through the book. The book was only about a quarter of the way filled, and most of the photos were not telling her anything. There were a handful of pictures of her friends, and a fair number of her parents, but pictures with the heiress herself were few and far between. Frustrated, Bulma grabbed the next book in the collection. When she opened it, she immediately knew something was wrong with it.

There were huge gaps in the album, and Bulma knew that wasn't right. Her mother crammed more photos into an album than anyone else could ever dream of fitting in there, and the fact that the gaps existed was extremely unsettling. Again, pictures of her were scarce, and none of them could tell her anything.

Bulma didn't even bother putting that book away. Dropping it unceremoniously to the ground, she snatched the third album down. Again, there were gaps, and again, the photos didn't tell her anything that she needed to know. None of it was right.

"What the hell is going on here?" she whispered.

///

"My boy, you need to relax," Dr. Briefs sighed, lighting up his cigarette.

Vegeta continued to prowl around the lower labs, trying not to pull his own hair out. "Relaxing is hardly what I want right now," he growled, "and put that out. I can't stand the smell."

Looking at the glowing end of the cigarette, the good doctor relented and snubbed it out. While he was craving the calming effects the nicotine had on him, he would do everything in his power to try to calm his highly agitated son in law.

After Bulma had left the party, the group had disbanded and returned to their homes. Vegeta, though, seemed to struggle with leaving the compound. He ended up standing on the back lawn, staring up at his old bedroom, for almost thirty minutes before Dr. Briefs had found him. Only a few words were spoken between the two men, and around nine thirty, the prince left. Trunks, asleep before the party ended, was having an impromptu sleep over with Goten, leaving Vegeta free to return home undetected.

It had been around eleven at night when the Saiyan prince had returned to the compound. Making sure to avoid the main hallways, he had made his way to the labs. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but whatever it was, it would take place at Capsule Corp. One more day away from the place would take what little sanity he was holding on to.

"What do you want to do?" Dr. Briefs asked, trying to wave away the residual smoke.

Shaking his head and not slowing down his pace, Vegeta simply muttered. "I don't know."

The old scientist sighed heavily. "My boy, I didn't ask what you should do. I asked you what want to do. They are different, you know." Reaching for another cigarette, he barely stopped himself in time. "So, what do you want to do?"

Running his fingers through his hair, Vegeta finally stopped moving. "Stop her, talk to her, make her remember," he clearly stated.

"Then that's what you should do," the doctor simply responded. Upon seeing the confused look on his son in laws face, he offered a reassuring smile. "Go upstairs, son. Find my daughter and talk to her. Who knows? It may just help."

Vegeta was stunned at the very suggestion. For three weeks he had been completely forbidden from even being in her presence for fear of literally scaring her to death. Even after she had been healed the evening before, her pale complexion and lack of hair still made her appear frail, and her fearful reaction of him earlier had made him believe that it might still be possible to put too much strain on her. Even if the senzu bean had healed her completely, Vegeta had witnessed firsthand that it was extremely possible to scare an otherwise healthy person to death.

Then again, she had seemed to calm down after a while, even if she had been avoiding him. She had always been a feisty one, and he supposed that he had seen her freak out one moment only to jump feet first into the fray.

Was is really worth the risk? If she became overwhelmingly frightened, which might have been possible without her army of friends around her, her adrenals might over produce and send her right back into cardiac arrest. But if she didn't, if she had actually had gotten accepting enough of his presence as a member of the group, there was hope that he could remind her of what they'd had.

Barely pausing long enough to give a slight nod, the prince was jogging up the staircase to the main house.

///

"What the hell are you hiding from me?" Bulma demanded, shaking one of the photo albums in her mother's face.

The blonde woman pulled the bright yellow dish gloves from her perfectly manicured hands. Looking around nervously, she shakily answered, "Why, whatever makes you think that we would be hiding something from you, honey?"

"Oh, cut the crap, Mom," Bulma snapped, tossing the book on the kitchen table. "These things are half empty, and it's obvious that pictures have been removed. You're trying to keep something from me, and I demand to know what it is!"

"Sweetie, you have only been healthy for a day," Bunny answered. "Why don't you wait a few days before you try to learn everything again? After all, twelve years of history is going to take an awful long time!"

Bulma slapped the table top hard. "Damn it, Mom, it's one thing to just know that I forgot stuff, but you're hiding it from me!"

The blonde placed her dish gloves on the edge of the sink and sighed. "Can't you just let us enjoy a day or two before you start nosing around?" she pleaded. "You were so much happier earlier today when all you could think of was the party. Why can't you find some fun activities to keep you occupied for a few days, just so we can get used to everything again?"

But the heiress would not be swayed. "Because, dear mother, you wouldn't be pushing it this hard if there weren't something huge that you wanted to have plenty of time to cover up. So why don't you just save us all the trouble and tell me whatever it is you don't want me to know? You know I'll find out in the end, so just tell me! It's not like I'm at risk for a heart attack now."

"Oh, honey, I don't know…you really don't seem too receptive to the idea of…"

"VEGETA?!?" Bulma screamed.

Beaming, Bunny pulled her daughter into a hug. "Oh, honey, you do remember something!"

Shoving her mother off, Bulma took a large step back. "No, Mom, I mean Vegeta's here!" Taking a moment, she suddenly blinked in confusion. "Wait, why would you be so happy about me remembering Vegeta?" she demanded, glaring at her mother.

Realizing her mistake, Bunny began playing with her hair. "Oh, nothing, dear," she insisted. "You, um, just didn't seem to remember him too well earlier, and when you said his name, I just thought that, you know, you were remembering some of the stuff that had happened in the last few years."

A horrified look overcame Bulma's features. "What the hell are you keeping from me?" she hoarsely whispered.

"Apparently, your mother still believes that you are too weak to handle the truth," Vegeta sharply answered. If he was going to remind her of what they had, he had to be himself. "Which leads to one of two possible solutions: either you really are a weakling, or your mother is an idiot."

Furious, Bulma glared at the prince. "How dare you?" she screamed. "How dare you come into my home and insult my family?"

"Fine, I won't insult your mother," he responded with a casual shrug. "I'll stick with insulting you."

Angrily pushing her mother aside, Bulma strode up to the arrogant Saiyan. "What the hell are you even doing here?" she hissed. "And where the hell is your son?"

"With Kakarot's youngest spawn," he answered with a smirk. "And since you refused to speak with me earlier, perhaps now that the morons are gone, you might actually pay some attention to me."

The heiress shoved him, and was somewhat surprised when she couldn't move him an inch and nearly knocked herself down. "Damn it, Vegeta, stop insulting my friends!" she shouted. "If you hate them so much, what the hell are you even doing here?"

"At Capsule Corp? Well, that's where…"

"On Earth!" she interrupted. "If you hate everything here, why the hell are you on my planet?"

Again, he offered a casual shrug. "I don't recall saying that I hated everything on the planet," he answered with a smirk. He looked her up and down before adding. "Some things are certainly entertaining."

Trying somewhat to keep her temper in check and failing miserably, Bulma tried to shove him again, getting the same results. "Well what the hell makes you think that I would want to entertain you, you bastard?" she hollered, stomping her foot into the ground.

"Look, it's not my fault that you drove your car off a cliff and forgot how much you love to fight with me," he fought back.

"I do not!" she yelled.

"Puh! You used to externally lock the door to my training room and hack in to the sound system just to bitch at me," he countered aggressively. "You would go out of your way just to pick a good fight!"

Stamping her foot again, she shrieked, "NO I WOULDN'T!"

Circling around her like a predator, he growled, "Oh, yes you would, woman. And you have, a thousand times, because I'm the only one who ever made it fun for you."

Snorting, Bulma tried to wave him off. "Whatever, Vegeta. I'm going to bed." She began to head for the stairs, but found, much to her annoyance, that she had a Saiyan shadow. "Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

"Annoying the living hell out of you," he answered with a smirk. "You're not the only one who's been missing things these past few weeks."

"Ugh, you make it sound like we actually were close to each other," she sneered, nearing the first step.

Suddenly, he was three steps above her. "We were," he casually answered, blocking her path completely. "And as I am certain that you will remember it all at some point, I see no reason to continue this pointless charade of innocence any further."

Remembering that shoving got her nowhere, Bulma opted for kicking him instead. He blocked her, only causing her to get even angrier. "Damn it, Vegeta!" she hollered. "Why don't you go back to your place and be with…your…"

In that single moment, all of the color drained from Bulma's face, and her eyes grew enormous. "Named after underwear," she whispered, a cold sweat starting to break out all over her body. "Half human," she went on, feeling a knot in her stomach. "Purple hair and blue…eyes…MOM! DAD! GET IN HERE, NOW!" she bellowed.

Two seconds later her parents, who had been eavesdropping from just around the corner, were in the room. "Oh, honey, there you are," her mother said, pretending to be oblivious to the unbelievable level of tension in the room. "I was wondering if you would like me to whip up a quick batch of those chocolate chip cookies you like ever so much!"

Glaring at her parents, Bulma asked point blank, "Do I have a son?"

Exchanging a glance with his wife, poor Dr. Briefs shook his head. "Well, that's a little more direct than I was anticipating," he eventually answered.

"Do I?" she asked again, her voice practically hissing.

"Well, honey," her mother began, "there's been so much happening in the last few years, and you've done so many wondrous things…"

The heiress whipped around and glared Vegeta, who was then only one step up from her, square in the eye. "Am I, or am I not, the mother of your son?"

Glaring back just as hard, Vegeta coolly answered, "Yes. You are."

Without waiting another second, Bulma slapped him in the face. "Why didn't you tell me?" she hissed at him.

"When could I?" Vegeta challenged. "You nearly had a stroke when you saw that I was even on the planet, and as soon as that conniption was over, you avoided me at all costs. And by the way, it really would have done the boy a world of good to watch you freak out like this over the idea of being his mother!"

"Oh, don't you try to turn this all around on me, mister!" she fought back. "If you woke up one day and were told that you had a kid with someone you couldn't stand, how would you react?"

"Probably by blowing several things up," he shot back. "And I am not blaming you for anything, you daft woman! I am merely explaining why we didn't tell you earlier!"

"Because it just didn't seem like something I'd need to know?" she screamed. "I cannot believe that none of you told me that Trunks was mine! Oh, Kami, and I barely spent any time with him at the party…and I know I haven't seen him in weeks since the first I remember hearing about him was today…" Fixing a hard look in Vegeta's direction, she firmly placed her hands on her hips. "I demand that you return my son to me!"

"Not bloody likely," he growled back. "You may be his mother by birth, but until you can demonstrate that you actually know him, he stays with me."

"I know enough!" she countered. "His name is Trunks, he's nine years old, his best friend is Goten, and he has an ass for a father!"

Vegeta pushed her slightly, just enough to get her to scoot on the stair, and got eye level with her. "When's his birthday?" he challenged. "What grade is he in? What were his first words? What's his favorite color? What does he do for fun? How much does he eat? What's his regular body temperature? Do you know any of these things, woman?"

Huffing, she retorted with, "Do you?"

"February fourteenth, fifth, a variation of 'bitch', bright blue, crazy adventures with Goten, three times his current weight, and a hundred and one," he coolly answered. "And there is no way in hell that I am going to let someone who knows nothing about him take care of my son."

Giving him one more glare, Bulma turned to her parents for support. "Does Trunks usually live with me?" she demanded of them.

Dr. Briefs adjusted his glasses. "Well, technically, yes…"

"Then he stays with me!"

"But that's not fair!" Bunny intervened, clearly on the verge of tears. "He lived with Vegeta, too!"

"But he lived with me more, right?" she asked, suddenly losing her ground in the impromptu custody battle.

Bunny dabbed her eyes. "Well, all three of you lived here, so it really was the same amount of time…"

"HE LIVED WITH ME?!?"

Beside her, Vegeta snorted. "Hey, that was your idea, not mine. Though after a while, it wasn't all that bad. And for your information, woman, the boy and I only moved out three weeks ago when you lost your memory. For almost ten years before that, we both were here."

Bulma placed her hands on the side of her face. "I am not hearing this," she said out loud. "There is no way I lived with Vegeta for ten years, slept with him, had his kid, and actually put up with it." She glared hard at the Saiyan on the stair. "Tomorrow, I want my son here, in my house, by ten in the morning."

"Fine," he agreed, "but I'm staying."

"Oh, no, you're not!"

"Oh, yes, I am!" he shot back. "You can spend as much time with the boy as he wants, but if you want to see him, you have to deal with me."

"I refuse to let you…"

"Then he's not coming," the prince interrupted. "I refuse to deprive him of the one parent who actually recognizes him. The boy has been through enough lately, and he does not need your ridiculous requests to be adding yet another undue level of stress on him. He's already lost one parent this month, do not ask him to sacrifice the other for your own sense of self worth."

Seething, Bulma could see that she was not going to win that argument. "Fine," she sneered. "Be here tomorrow at ten."

"Fine," he growled back. He turned and stormed out of the house, and she turned and stormed up to her bedroom.

Only a few feet from where they had been, Bunny once again dabbed at her eyes. "Oh, dear, do you think they can work things out?" she asked her husband.

Dr. Briefs simply pulled out his long awaited cigarette, lit it, and took a drag. "If I recall correctly, this is how they acted right before the first time they…er…"

A wave of relief washed over the blonde, and she hugged her husband tight. "Oh, you're right, honey! At this rate, they'll be back together and we'll have even more grandchildren before we know it!"

If only she knew how wrong she was.