It was quiet at Capsule Corp. a rarity given the past few days and how hectic they all had been. The Z gang had returned to their respective homes and lives, everyone but Goku that is, and the initial shock of having lost her oldest friend had worn off. It had transformed into a dull throbbing pain in the back of her mind, one she was not sure would ever truly go away.

She felt for Chichi but was unable to bring herself to face the woman, after all, she knew that nothing she would say could make the mother of Gohan feel any better. Not to mention that Bulma was worn out, drained. Emotionally and mentally.

Meeting the teenage version of her baby son had been an exciting adventure, but it had also given her much to think about. This Trunks had grown up without a father, in a world filled with hurt and devastation. All his sacrifices, in the end, served her, and her alone. She was blessed with a second chance. A second chance at life. And love. Because despite the odds Vegeta was still here. Alive and breathing.

Over the course of the Android attack and the following disaster that had turned out to be cell and his little game, Vegeta had been presented. Either training with - or without - Trunks, but always returning back to Capsule Corp. for food, and other accommodations, he even went as far as taking a short break, watching the cell announcement on TV with them - dressed in human clothes no less. Things between them had been tense and yet Bulma had secretly swooned when she saw him in his yellow shirt. It was not often that he dressed in Earthling attire - even though he had a wide variety of nice outfits at his disposal - but every time he did Bulma's chest constricted with hope, that maybe, just maybe they could make it work. That they both weren't too different for this. Their interactions during that time had been few and far between, she had chosen to focus on her teenage son and her small infant while Vegeta chose to focus on battle and training. Little had been resolved during that time and there had been a moment when she had outrighted believed that it would be better if he just left. Future Trunks had turned out to be a great young man, despite his horribly hard life, she would be able to raise her baby in peace; and if Vegeta wanted no part of it then she'd be fine with that.

Those moments of extreme confidence had not lasted long. Yes, she was an independent and smart woman, technically she needed no man, but she wanted her son to have a father. Some of her own most precious memories involved her father, and she wanted that for Trunks. Not to mention that Vegeta was the only being in existence that knew what to expect from a young Saiyan growing up. He was the only one who'd likely be able to answer many of Trunks questions and problems he might struggle with while maturing into the young man she had met. Problems and questions that were conceivably out of her range of expertise; simply because she was human after all.

Now with the cell games behind them and a peaceful future ahead of them, Bulma was unsure of how to proceed. Her parents had taken her son for a walk by the beach, promising to keep him in the shade as much as possible, and Bulma had resigned herself to doing yoga with the hopes of calming her overactive mind.

She was lost in her own thoughts, focusing on her own breathing and holding the poses right, so focused in fact that when she saw him standing in the doorframe, observing her with barely restrained curiosity, Bulma did not even startle. Instead, his presence made his way into her awareness as if floating through a thick cloud of cotton candy. He looked funny, upside down like this and Bulma lingered in the downward dog for a few breaths longer before releasing the pose and returning to the mat.

When she turned around to grab her water bottle for a quick break he was still standing in the doorframe, arms folded over his chest, observing her with interest in his dark gaze. A cutting remark was burning on Bulma's lips, but she remembered everything the future version of herself had sacrificed in order to give her this second chance. She was not going to squander that.

"I'm doing Yoga. It's great for flexibility"

Not the best start to the conversation they actually needed to be having - was he going to stay on earth - but it was a start. Vegeta only raised an amused brow at her before shaking his head and pushing off the doorframe, coming to sit on the sofa across from her mat. She hated when he did that, showing up without saying a word, and not responding verbally until she asked the question he wanted to be answered. It could be irritating, to say the least. Putting her water bottle down and returning to her mat Bulma continued her practice, while in a halfway lift, she carefully observed his sitting form from the corner of her eyes, he, in turn, was observing her, his face unreadable. Giving him a shy smile her eyes returned to the mat. Get it together Bulma!

"Wanna join me?"

Despite her flirtatious tone, Vegeta did not take the bait, he remained silent and unmoving, observing her with eyes that seemed to have focused on a reality only he could see. Bulma continued her practice, her controlled inhales and exhales filling the room while she fluidly moved through a variety of poses, all the while contemplating the presence and surely silence of her son's father. After a long period of silence, having successfully completed her practice for the day, she found herself sitting on the mat, determined that when she left here, she would know where they stood. Where her life was going to go.

"It's strange when it's so silent isn't it?" she broke the ice, not really expecting an answer she pushed on. "It was so hectic these past few days, there was so much purpose in these past few years and now it's just gone. Puff ...this monumental task and we have to re-orient ourselves."

She trailed off, somewhere during her short rambling Vegeta's eyes had focused and found hers, his face was stoic as usual, but if the glint in his eyes was any indication she had hit the nail squarely on the head. They had lost their purpose, so consumed with the task of defeating the androids that they had made little plans for the future after them. Vegeta had trained like a mad man and she had assisted by building him battle drones and attack robots, updating his Gravity room and taking care of him. Now even Goku was dead. Everything seemed strange and perhaps even a little empty. They were lost. He likely even more than her. Not that he would ever admit that.

"Trunks is starting to walk. He's not quite there yet, but he's very determined - like you. You could start training him soon, he has lots of energy, and after punching me square in the shoulder the other day, he definitely has the aptitude." She now almost giggled at the memory of Trunks getting her in the shoulder during a diaper change. No denying he was Vegeta's kid.

At that Vegeta perked up, "He punched you?". His tone an indistinguishable mix of humor, surprise and perhaps a hint of concern. Maybe pride? Bulma nodded, a small smile stretching her lips when she pulled the collar of her shirt to the side, exposing a small fist sized bruise underneath her collarbone right by her shoulder.

Silence settled between them once more and Bulma was in the middle of working out how to approach the topic regarding his future plans again, she had hoped he would react to her offer to train his son when his voice interrupted her thoughts.

"You put him in danger. You should never have been there."

His eyes were hard and cold now, and she knew immediately what he was referring to. The incident when Dr. Gero had attacked her small Jet because she had shown up to the battle, with Trunks in tow. Shame mixed with anger when she recalled the events of that day. Yes, it had been foolish to risk her life like that, but Vegeta wasn't one to talk.

"Right, I shouldn't have been there" she conceded icily, "But you should have saved us. You did nothing to help us!"

Vegeta's eyes scanned her face before focusing intently on the mat in front of her knees. He had been unprepared for her admission, and even more for her accusation of his own guilt.

"You were a target of opportunity. Everything else would have just made you a real target"

His voice was low, the words forced. She could tell by the way he was not meeting her eyes, his right hand squeezing down on the bicep of his left arm. It was indirect, but Bulma knew it was all she was going to get. At least for now. Vegeta was not the kind of man that apologized, his words often had to be scanned for a deeper meaning. Yes, she had been a simple target of opportunity and Vegeta believed any reaction from him would have made her an even bigger, an actual deliberate, target. She accepted the fucked up, and likely very Saiyan way of saying, I care. And I'm still very uncomfortable with it.

The silence stretched between them, neither meeting the other's eye when had it become so awkward? It was as if the air between them had deflated - usually, it was loaded with tension, arguments and a never ending battle of wits; now they both just seemed exhausted. Vegeta had slouched on the couch - something she had never seen him do before, he always held himself with military-like grace - and she became aware of her own shoulders having rolled forward.

She was Bulma Briefs, and she was sitting in the presence of actual royalty, they were not going to mope around. Not on her watch!

With new found determination she picked herself up off the floor, rolled up her yoga mat and then leveled her gaze at Vegeta, who had perked up at her sudden flurry of movements.

"Come on big guy we are gonna have a snack"

Her voice rang rich with determination, and before Vegeta even had the chance to interject anything she pivoted on her heels and marched out the room towards the kitchen. She could hear him clicking his tongue in obvious irritation at her order but then she caught the tell-tale sign of ruffling clothes and she knew he was hot on her heels.

By the time Vegeta made it to the kitchen Bulma had already opened the fridge, set on making some damn comfort food before getting back to life. She was done with the depressed mood, the indecision, and the sudden awkwardness. If he could not voice his decision - and kami was she sure he had actually already made one, Vegeta always had an opinion, knew what he wanted - then she was going to do it her way until he voiced his displeasure. If that happened she'd adjust course from there, but she was not going to be waiting around.

By the time the first batch of waffles was done, she had already raided the fridge once more, taken out a variety of different jams and jellies, freshly washed blueberries, and strawberries as well as syrup and even plain yogurt. She liked to get creative when it came to waffles, simple syrup had never done the trick for her. The Saiyan had simply watched her go about her task in silence, arms crossed over his wide chest, and she once again had to admit how handsome he looked in human clothes.

They ate in silence, this one a lot more comfortable than the one before. Bulma had made enough waffles to feed a juniors soccer team, but knowing the insatiable stomach of a Saiyan this was snack size, and to her great delight Vegeta even experimented with a variety of the toppings she had spread out earlier. He seemed to particularly enjoy slathering yogurt on the waffle before topping it with fresh berries and devouring it with three large bites. This man across from her was alien and rough around the edges, honest to a fault and pretty damn arrogant, but she had to admit she was glad he was here.

She felt safe in his presence, which was ridiculous, given that he had hung her out to dry during the Android fiasco, but Bulma was willing to give him another shot. After all, she really should not have been there, shame filled her once again at the thought of how reckless she had been with the safety of her child. They both weren't perfect.

Vegeta was still busy finishing his last stack of waffles when Bulma decided it was time to make her next move. She stood to retrieve a notepad and a pen, setting both on the table while plopping back down into her seat and waiting for Vegeta to finish his small feast. He was eating with gusto, she could tell, and a small smile tugged at her lips as she observed him. A quick glance at the clock told her that her parents should be back with Trunks soon, and she wanted to do this while it was still just the two of them.

When he was done, and his dark gaze finally unfocused from the plates, finding her own eyes, she slid the notepad and pencil his way.

"Write down any update and improvement you wish to be installed in the Gravity Room", she observed his eyes grow dark and irritated, yes she had heard about his declaration to never fight again, and she did not believe a single second of it. In order to prevent him from interrupting her, she held up her hand, fixing him with a determined stare and continued, "It doesn't have to be right now. Take your time. I know you got some great ideas in that thick head of yours, and don't even start with the whole 'i'll never fight again'. That's crap, you are a warrior, take a break, reassess, come back stronger and don't you dare" she pointed an accusatory finger at him "let Goku and his death influence your drive. You are the Saiyan Prince, remember?!".

Bulma got up before Vegeta had recovered enough to shoot down her little speech, she truly hoped that she had not pushed him too far. Vegeta was a driven man, determined to the point of obsession and she feared what might happen to him if he were to lose this drive. Admittedly he needed time to find a new direction and task, the androids and cell had left a gaping hole in the lives of everyone, but it would do him no good to fall into a directionless depression.

Stalking out of the kitchen she was grateful to hear the tell-tale sign of a key turning in a lock, the front door, her parents were back with Trunks. She knew Vegeta was still too uncomfortable to chase her down to continue this argument in front of his infant son.

Chancing a glance over her shoulder she saw him still sitting in the kitchen, staring at the notepad with what could only be described as befuddlement. He really was cute. From the door she could hear the excited babble of their young son, he was going to have a father.

"I'll see you tonight, Vegeta!"

She herself wasn't sure what exactly that meant, just that she hoped he would stay, lift himself out of this despondency and somehow things would work out. A small flicker of hope blossomed in her chest as she wondered if he'd really still be there tonight.

The moon was high in the sky, indicating how late it was. He had defied her, being the stubborn individual that he was, nobody was going to order him around. So he had stayed here, in the desert, high up on a boulder with the notepad by his side.

He had found himself writing down improvements and thoughts against his wishes, had watched as his traitorous hand had put thought to paper. Almost in trance, he stared down at his own neat writing, eliminate the middle column for more space, remove some drones from sight, it would force him to concentrate on other senses, change conditions of visibility, in a true battle visibility often changed at random, the list went on and on. What he should have done was leave, take the ship and get the hell away from this measly planet. Nothing held him here on earth. The Androids were defeated, he had ascended, his rival was dead. For the first time in over two decades, he was truly a free man, with the means to go wherever he wished. The galaxy was his for the taking.

Yet the thought itself held little appeal. He already knew what it was like to destroy worlds, have beings begging at his feet. Space was a cold and sucking void, dark and endless like the pain and anguish he had suffered while being immersed in it. His people were dead, no more true, full blooded Saiyan males, no Saiyan females, he was the last remaining Saiyan. A ghost among the stars. No amount of conquering and blood would be able to change this fact.

Unwillingly Bulma's last words came to his mind "I'll see you tonight, Vegeta". Her eyes had shone brightly, the most magnificent blue he had ever seen. Had anyone ever looked forward to seeing him? He doubted it. He was a murderous monster with an empty title and no people, and yet this woman, so like a Saiyan and so not, had given him chance after chance. She had given him a son he knew for certain he could give nothing. He had nothing to give, he never had. All his life Vegeta had been the one to take, he simply did not know how to give. Perhaps pain, he knew how to inflict and give that, but he knew with earth shattering certainty that he did not want that for his son.

His son. What a preposterous thought, he had a son. A half-breed no less. Yet hadn't he just established that there was not a single Saiyan woman?! No more Saiyans at all to be exact. From here on out it would be mixed breeds, no matter who he mated with, no matter who Kakarot's spawn mated with. This was his best shot at preserving his people a little while longer. This small rock floating on the outermost edges of the galactic trade routes. It was relatively safe from old foes that might hold grudges against him for days past, and that was if the rest of the universe did not believe him already dead. Vegeta had to suppress a dark maniac laugh at the thought, he was not dead. Not by a long shot, but he often felt like he was supposed to be. He should have died with his people, his planet, and if not with them then during his service under Frieza, he should have stayed dead after Namek, heck in an alternate timeline he was dead by the hands of the androids. Death seemed to be right on his heels and the Saiyan Prince was not sure how he had evaded him this long. Destiny suddenly seemed like a twisted, treacherous thing.

His eyes drifted back to the notepad. I'll see you tonight, Vegeta. She was soft and warm, smelled clean and feminine, intelligent and fierce, stubborn like himself. Bulma Briefs was a Queen in her own right, with a deeply rooted strength that went beyond muscles, caring and forgiving. In this life she lived, she needed for nothing, yet she wanted him. Vegeta knew that she had never directly told him, but actions always spoke louder than words. She was his if he wanted her.

And wasn't that where the true problem lie, he wasn't sure if he wanted her. Vegeta always knew what he wanted. He wanted to defeat Frieza, he wanted to avenge his people, he wanted to grow stronger and ascend, he wanted to beat Kakarot and the Androids. But did he want the woman and this life that came with it? A part of him screamed, with a desperate savage and selfish need that he wanted her, the way he could lose himself in her, the way she eased this festering pain inside of him. Another part, his pride, cautioned him of the weakness he was creating. A weakness so strong that should it ever be exploited no amount of his Saiyan strength would be able to save him from the pain he would experience. Vegeta snorted at the mere thought, his greatest pain would always be the loss of his people. Were Bulma and Trunks his people?

Perhaps they were. Bizarre hair and coloring aside, the future version of his son had been all him. The shape of his eyes, the strong jaw, and eyebrows, the built of his body right down to his hands. All him. Would turning away, leaving this world and his son behind, make him no better than his own father? A man who had traded him like a pawn for a false promise of peace, condemning him to a life of servitude, without as much as the blink of an eye. It suddenly occurred to him that it was feasible that even back then, back on planet Vegeta, back in the palace, back among the very people he had been destined to rule, his title had been empty. Imaginably he was just a placeholder, something, no worse, someone, that was interchangeable. Another heir could always be born.

Vegeta now had the option to choose what life he wanted to live, a moment he had dreamed of growing up, fantasized about during his adolescence and planned during his preparation for the Androids. All of these dreams, the years he had spent musing over them, lacked their luster now, and he had to begrudgingly admit that he was lost. Not something that was befitting of a Saiyan Prince. No matter how empty the title.

His dark gaze drifted back towards the notepad.

His son's features were soft and relaxed, deep asleep, the baby-fat ever so slowly receding, giving just the barest hint of the sharp and chiseled features he would be sharing with his father some years from now. He would be walking soon, the woman had informed him earlier, given him the freedom to start training him. Vegeta was not sure how to train something so small and seemingly helpless. Maybe he could start with some balance exercises and move on to katas? He remembered being taught those very early in life, an endless act of fluid motion and balance that had in hindsight aided him tremendously in finding his own fighting style. Not to mention that the gravity on this planet was laughable, any true Saiyan should grow up being used to the enormous gravity on Vegetasei. He could add that in with the Katas.

Bare feet carried him down the hall to the woman's bedroom, the door was slightly ajar as if left in open invitation and he let himself in, dropping the notepad on her nightstand. Her and their child shared the same peaceful sleep, both breathing deeply seemingly without a care in the world. Blue haired spilled over her silken pillows and in the pale moonlight, Vegeta noted how truly delicate she was. Not only her facial features but her body, her bone structure and build were petite and shapely. So different from any Saiyan woman he could remember, yet she had given him a son with enough power to put a full blooded Saiyan infant to shame. The future version of Trunks had been strong, despite the less than favorable conditions of his youth, and Vegeta was curious how much more lay dormant, how strong the infant down the hall could become with proper training and guidance.

"Just lay down, it's late"

Her voice was drowsy with sleep, startling him out of his own thoughts, and her eyes closed the second the last word had left her lips. For a moment Vegeta was unsure if she had actually been awake or if she was talking in her sleep. Eyeing the empty side of her bed he contemplated the consequences of lying down next to this woman, he had never shared a bed with her, not unless physical intimacy had been involved. But it was late and this bed, in comparison to his own, was warm, it even smelled more inviting. Ignoring his pride he carefully lowered himself down onto the free space of the mattress, his shirt laying discarded on her floor. Tucking his arm behind his head Vegeta stared at the ceiling, listening to Bulma's deep and rhythmic breathing, the low hum of the insects outside that a gentle breeze carried through the open doors of her balcony.

After a few minutes, the darkness of sleep already pulling on his conscious mind, the woman turned in her sleep, lips slightly parted her breath softly feathering against his shoulder, and Vegeta was suddenly reminded of the first night they had ever shared a bed together. After her fight with the inferior male that was her ex. It had taken him a while to fall asleep that night, but when it had finally claimed him, his sleep had been peaceful, nice. Maybe it would be too this time.

fin.

Well, it eventually had to happen, it's over.

Thank you so much to all of you who left Kudos, read and reviewed and encouraged me to keep going.
This has been an incredible journey of finding my own style after many, many years of not writing a single thing.
I'll be participating in smut-fest this October so be sure to come around for that :) I'll also be working on an AU, but no promises on when the first chapter will be posted - it's all still in the rough.

A special thank you to my friend Sarah, for being my biggest cheerleader throughout this story, letting me bounce ideas and complaints off her endlessly, and encouraging me to keep writing. Thank you.