Feb. 24, 2023 - Hello! This story is finished. Chapters will be posted regularly. Let me know what you think in the comments. Thank you!

"Nervousness doesn't rule Bulma Brief. Oh no."

She splashed her face with refreshingly warm water before leaning full-frontal into the shower's whirling streams. Distraction kept her from noticing her sleepy husband's steps behind her. Their bedroom's washing chamber was just so large that one could sit while the other frolicked between and underneath multiple showerheads. Sometimes the couple had their best conversations there.

Vegeta kissed the lower end of her neck, rubbing his naked hips on her bouncy bottom. His pace aroused them both. "Talking with your invisible friends again? Want me to scare them away?"

Laughing, Bulma grabbed a detachable showerhead, spraying water between his legs. "Cool it, stallion."

Not to be surpassed, Vegeta found his own waterplay weapon – one filled with bubbly liquid soap. Bulma was a mess of suds in seconds. "You scoundrel!" she howled. "That's underhanded!"

Vegeta winked, spanking her ass just…once. "You started this battle," he said, outlining her pouty lips with his finger. "Not my problem that you chose an unfit weapon."

Bulma looked into his eyes, forcing her mind back into concerned reflection, which she tried to hide behind a tender smile. The back of her hand touched Vegeta's cheek as they kissed. "Ready to go?"

Vegeta's insightfulness wasn't limited to his combat talents. He and Bulma were closer than they'd ever been as lovers and partners. Two children, a cat, Bulma's boisterous family and friends, and life-threatening battles assisted. Thus, Vegeta preferred to know what troubled his feisty wife before leaving for a monthlong training trip with - to everyone's surprise - Son Goten.

The eighteen-year-old had decisively declared that he wanted to follow in the footsteps of his father Goku and Vegeta. A massive and increasingly ugly row between Goten and his mother Chi Chi forced Goku to show authority more forcefully than anyone had expected. His wife conceded to the boy's wishes. Goten, however, wouldn't get a one-on-one with his day at first, as the boy had anticipated.

Like Vegeta's son Trunks, it wasn't like Goten hadn't trained with tough individuals – including his brother Gohan and the Namekian warrior Piccolo - or fought under extraordinary circumstances. But Goku, with his intuitive genius, knew his free-and-easy son needed a heftier dose of mature roughness and fighter's discipline that the proud Saiyan prince could skillfully and quickly instill.

Trunks's enthusiasm turned more toward his mother and grandfather's company. Their intelligence and hard work at Capsule Corporation had saved just as many lives, or simply made them better, inspiring the boy. So Trunks wasn't jealous about his father and best friend's plans. Despite the boys growing up jointly and watching many fights between Goku, Vegeta and others, Trunks still had a closer understanding of his father's intensity. He told Bulma that Goten wouldn't come back the same person after training exclusively with Vegeta.

Bulma had that on her mind, too, as Vegeta trailed her out of the bathroom. He almost always returned from his voyages energized. Yet, sometimes, brooding and introspection followed that took days to work through. Vegeta would be training Goten as a true Saiyan, fighting much differently from the martial-arts instruction the boy had in earlier years. Every effort to share his knowledge with the next generation, extending beyond mere combat, had become a building block of a legacy that was mercilessly robbed from him as a child. No one under his tutelage would succumb to physical or mental slavery if they faced another mortal threat. He promised himself that.

He didn't answer Bulma, choosing instead to reclaim her hand. "We don't have all morning."

Bulma stopped, looking back. "Don't have all morning for what?"

Vegeta's brawny shoulders and back straightened as their eyes met. "To discuss whatever is troubling you. Contrary to what you may believe, it becomes much tougher to leave when you're distracted like this, especially when it's obvious that the issue involves me."

Bulma demurred at first, though not vigorously. She had to tame Vegeta's suspicion but also acknowledge his sincere confession. "I've realized that for a while, Vegeta, but I am glad you feel comfortable enough to speak about it."

He unrolled a hand towel, seating Bulma on their bed to dry her hair. He'd learned a bevy of relaxation techniques to coax answers from her, including that one. "OK, now, what about the rest?"

Bulma's head sloped backward as his hands massaged her neck and temples. "Are you sure this trip is the best thing for you and Goten?"

"For me?" Vegeta curiously looked over her shoulder, chuckling. "Since when has kicking anyone's ass been a problem for me? Regarding Goten, he has something to prove to himself and his nutty family. The first part of that equation is my focus. I won't tolerate any holding back, which he would likely do with his father."

Bulma sighed pleasantly. Her husband's fingertips felt like a touch of heaven. "When did you get so good at this? Keep those magic hands going. Anyway, I guess what I'm saying is your enthusiasm is noticeable – like really, really noticeable."

"It is to you," Vegeta replied. "Trunks too, I'm sure, but you live with me - and we all annoy the hell out of each other. Sounds like you're concerned about how this could affect our son. Am I close to a straighter answer?"

"I believe Trunks when he says he's unbothered, Vegeta. I just wonder if you've been reflecting more lately about passing the torch. I hate admitting this and I hope saying it doesn't hurt you, but I'm not sure the others will ever fully comprehend what Saiyan pride means in the way you do."

Bulma's concern didn't upset Vegeta. In fact, it did the opposite. He felt valued and loved. His arms enfolded around her. "My pride has been a double-edged sword, building me up and breaking me down. It is a tool, tied to the good and bad sides of my heritage. If those who come to me for help understand both, then they will become stronger in infinite ways – and, most importantly, far wiser than I was before I met you."

"And what about Gohan?"

"My mind hasn't changed about Gohan's potential, Bulma, and everyone knows that. I don't need to belabor my sentiments anymore. Besides, he has a teacher and I accept that the ways of warriors have many paths. Also, to settle your mind, Trunks has brought nothing but satisfaction for us both. No matter what he does in life, I couldn't be prouder."

Vegeta's words, especially about their son, brought tears to Bulma's eyes. He kissed her head, following with a lip smooch. They grasped hands as he rose to get dressed. Within an hour, after accepting a longer-than-usual hug from their sprightly four-year-old daughter, he was gone. Vegeta had worked attentively to demonstrate that degree of affection with his family. Unfortunately, Bulma's fear increased over what her husband and children would learn after his return.

Maybe I'll get Trunks on board first. He could calm his father down in a way I may not be able to. She put on her jeans, a turtleneck and lab coat to visit her personal workroom. Mingling with Capsule Corporation staff at the office didn't excite Bulma like it normally did. Four hours into his mother's equipment drafting, Trunks brought lunch into the mechanics lab.

Bulma removed her magnifying glasses, looking up. "Hi, sweetheart. What's this?"

After they exchanged cheek kisses, Trunks stacked the papers on top of each other. "Dad texted before he left. He said you probably wouldn't eat breakfast, so I'm making sure you get a bite."

Bulma sighed, picking up a roast beef sandwich. "Thank you – and I'm all right."

"Did you have breakfast?" Trunks asked, raising his eyebrow.

"No, boy," Bulma muttered, watching him open a potato-chip bag. "It does happen occasionally, and I can afford to lose a few pounds naturally."

"Dad usually doesn't get in touch with me unless he's more concerned than usual. So what's up?"

Bulma's hand laid over his. "Trunks, we're intimately aware that your dad is a complicated man. I feel he's missing something beyond other losses in his life, and as you and Bulla get older, that's become more apparent to me. There's a hole in his heart that... even my love for him can't soothe."

Straightaway, Trunks felt profoundly unsettled. "What did you do, mom?"

Shaking off her anxiety once again, Bulma inhaled. "Your grandmother, Sage, is alive. Your Uncle Tarble plans to bring her here before your father returns."

Trunks felt nauseous. "She's alive, and Tarble has known this all along?"

Sensing her son's mounting anger, Bulma's eyes closed. "Yes, honey."

"What in the hell are either of you thinking?!" Blood rushed to Trunks's face. "You can't just spring news like this on papa without any warning or opinion from him!"

"Don't curse at me like that, Trunks."

"Hole in his heart, mom?!" Trunks left his seat, stomping to the lab's center. "Really?! I may only be eighteen, but even I realize this could turn his entire world upside down. He doesn't talk about either of his parents. Our family is finally happy and whole. Finally. He doesn't get depressed as much. You of all people shouldn't want that to change."

"Sweetheart, please –"

"No!" Trunks's hand shot up to interrupt her. "I'm mindful enough to see what's happening. No, I will not back you on this."

"I know you're afraid for Vegeta, honey, but your father is more than resilient. Imagine what it's probably felt like for Sage to be without her eldest son for forty-plus years, with him believing that she's dead. As a mother, I would be devastated if I had to suffer through that with you and Bulla."

"Mom, just think about this. Dad didn't tell anyone about his own brother before Uncle Tarble and Aunt Gure found us. I couldn't figure it out at first, but now I have a better guess. He chose not to keep his hopes high that Tarble was alive. Maybe he doesn't speak about these things because…because he can't let them eat at him inside anymore. Don't you think he might consider this plan a betrayal by all three of them?"

Bulma absorbed her son's blistering verbal punches, which unexpectedly ended her ambivalence. This reunion had to happen, she now believed - not only for Vegeta, but for her and their children. Of course she felt terrified about meeting this flesh-and-blood Saiyan woman, given some of what she knew about King Vegeta and other Saiyans, but she couldn't allow fear to stop her.

"If all hell busts loose, Trunks, then I will take full blame. If Vegeta stops talking to me for a year, which I can't see that happening, then I'll accept the consequences. But I want you to think about this. Sage left a collapsing empire with her youngest child, escaping before almost all others perished. That's a remarkable story, even if she chooses not to tell all of it.

"You assume with no evidence that she abandoned your father, and that Vegeta will feel the same. I say this woman is entitled to a fair hearing - but, regardless, she doesn't need our approval. If she's anything like your dad, I doubt she's seeking it."

Observing Bulma's wistful look, Trunks asked, "Then why come at all?"

Bulma walked toward her son, joining hands with him. "You have your papa's handsome eyes – all that strength and determination. Perhaps Sage needs to see the same in Vegeta's eyes before death separates them."

Trunks's fiery outrage promptly burned out. "Wait. You…you think she's sick, mom?"

"The thought just occurred to me," Bulma replied. She hated speculating about the worst-case outcome to get through to Trunks, especially since the boy was typically more sympathetic. "I certainly hope not, but Tarble could be keeping quiet at Sage's request. We'll see when they arrive."

Trunks hugged his mother closely, imagining his father's face. "Papa may feel his mother's presence before he sees her, and at that moment he'll know whether she's OK - just as I will."

Vegeta stared down and laughed at Goten, who was on his hands and knees, drenched in sweat. "Humph. Don't tell me you're tired yet, boy. It's only been a few hours."

"Bullshit!" Goten panted angrily - consequences be damned. "Whatever clock we're using has been busted all day."

Vegeta's eyelids lowered menacingly. "What did you just say to me?"

Goten scowled, rolling over on his back. "I'm not my dad or brother, remember? Just because they don't curse a lot, doesn't mean –"

"Oh pipe down." Vegeta crouched beside him, slapping his face with enough light force to keep the boy's eyes open. "With me, you get to be yourself - good, bad, ugly, stupid and ignorant. Now that doesn't mean you won't pay handsomely for being profane - and only because you haven't yet earned the privilege of cursing at me like Kakarot and Gohan have."

"And Trunks?"

Vegeta brushed the dirt from his knees, standing up. "Your buddy is smart enough to be selective with his swearing in my presence. But, of course, he's his mother's son. I can only do so much."

"I might tell Bulma that, you know!" Goten sat up, laughing as the prince swaggered away. "You're terrible – one hundred percent."

Vegeta threw a towel over his shoulder, which landed perfectly on Goten's face. "Multiply that times three trillion."

"Your math is off!" Goten rather liked seeing more of this side of Vegeta, even when their sparring left him crumpled, alongside other thorny challenges that he faced. When Vegeta's tough-as-tungsten military persona took over, the boy's determination to show his mettle doubled.

Vegeta found Goten's gumption pleasurable to witness. Even so, the range of tests he devised weren't half as difficult as those he originally conceived. There would be more time for that. He wanted the boy to achieve a different understanding of endurance. That included his rules of warfare and craftiness.

Evenings left ample time for him to reflect while Goten studied from the handpicked books gifted to him by Gohan. Vegeta recognized that the harshness of his "upbringing" had a distinctive value for others, such that he could impart its best and sturdiest qualities to them. No one who fought with him at this time in his life ever left empty-handed and unable to better comprehend their inner will - including, first and foremost, Son Goku.

Vegeta gave what had almost been denied to him, not only because of Frieza's attempts at mental and physical bondage, but because of his own emotional barriers. He learned to be a parent, husband, friend and more giving lover when seemingly every fiber of his psyche told him early on that doing so would be perilous, goading him into hubristic mistakes and preventable failures. Would life have been different had his parents lived and Frieza weren't in the picture? Of course. Would it have been a better life? Over time, he tried to focus less on those prospects. Despite their strongest attributes, including more "noble" ones, many Saiyans had adopted harm as a way of life, continuing amid their own enslavement – a ruinous paradox. Though he cared for the boy, King Vegeta still thought more of his young son as a commodity that would further solidify their family's reign and bring further glory to himself.

For a man so cunning and harsh, the king naively hoped that Vegeta would grow old enough to overthrow Frieza with him and other Saiyans , re-establishing the primacy their "glorious" legacy. Thus he grudgingly accepted Frieza's demand to hand Vegeta over for "finishing," and, ironically, he convinced himself that the boy could learn and adopt some practices that would benefit the Saiyans when the prince's time came to rule. But Frieza knew exactly how to influence the child.

In the end, Vegeta sacrificed himself, manipulated into serving fervently because Frieza had threatened to kill the king. A child soldier he had become, flanked by two Saiyan servants who had maintained hope that the prince would deliver them from bondage as well. The brutality Nappa and Raditz accepted and inflicted on others as troopers was a means to an end, morality be damned.

King Vegeta ended up dead anyway, and with that another icy layer formed around the prince's character. His baby brother had already been sent away by the king, unwanted because of his lack of sizable power. The queen died suddenly shortly before, they told the prince. Vegeta never saw his mother's body. His father said mourning elaborately would dishonor the proud woman, though others in the royal court would have preferred a memorial, so the boy buried those feelings too.

Bulma's initiation into motherhood, via the birth of Trunks, roughly reintroduced Vegeta to those suppressed and demanding emotions. He fought off urges to know whether Sage loved him or if the king loved either of them at all. Vegeta wanted the power to confirm that his life had meaning beyond being a gilded collectable in Frieza's galactic toybox - another maniac who "cared" by keeping him on a short leash to play attack-hound while relentlessly humiliating him.

Goten yawned, casting a glance at Vegeta. The prince was meditating on floor with his legs in a butterfly position and eyes closed. So much of that scene reminded the boy of his older brother and father.

"You should be asleep, Goten."

"Damn it!" Goten exclaimed with jealous frown. "I wish I had your hearing. Have you outpaced dad on that too? Only my eyeballs moved."

Vegeta's eyelids parted. He hid his amusement behind a husky grunt. "What a pathetic attempt to praise me. Now stop blathering before I make you regret it. Besides, you have…everything you need."

Goten sat up, scratching his shaggy head. "No, I'm serious. Like, I'm no amateur at sensing ki vibrations or manipulating my own."

"That goes without saying."

"Then what is it?"

"Sensing and hearing aren't that far apart, especially for those like us," Vegeta replied. "I'm sure several people would be disappointed to learn that their lessons when you were a child fell on deaf ears. A pity."

"Real cute," Goten grumbled, feeling unfairly judged. He pushed aside his mild displeasure as Vegeta's discerning eyes challenged him. "But what you're saying has merit."

Vegeta laughed, tugging at his ear. "I don't think I heard you clearly. Come again?"

Goten stood and bowed. "I am here to do better, master."

Vegeta's strapping arms extended as he yawned. "Am I allowed to rest now, or do I have to knock you out to get some peace and quiet?"

Both turned over to sleep, backs facing each other. Like his brother, Goten had great capacity for empathy. This time, his heart moved him to ask another question. "Are you OK, Vegeta?"

"Save your concern for yourself right now," Vegeta said, lifting a blanket over his shoulder. "Should the time come, if danger confronts us again, know that I may accept your help just as I would from Kakarot and Gohan. We Saiyans must… rely on each other."

He soon drifted off to sleep, holding on to those thoughts.