Meanwhile, at Capsule Corp., Vegeta was plagued with uncertainty.

He had been angry when Goku had shown up after his reconnaissance mission without the girl, only to explain that he had taken her to his house. He was her uncle, he was her prince, damn it all, and she would be returned to his house immediately!

But Dr. Briefs' comment, that he was being an "overprotective father" towards the girl, had really gotten under his skin, making him hyperaware of just how overwrought he was becoming over his niece. It was because of this that he'd agreed to let Goku take some clothes for her. Although 'agreed' was probably too strong a word. 'Stomped off and did not actively prevent' was a better approximation.

Fatherhood was out of Vegeta's sphere of expertise. He knew that since before even the concept of Trunks had existed, and it had been the primary reason he'd been so hostile to the child when Bulma had first presented him. Vegeta liked to be good at things. Not just good – the best. And if he couldn't be the best at something, then he didn't want to do it.

Now, even with ten years of fatherhood under his belt, the role still made him uncomfortable. It wasn't just that he didn't have the instinct for it, Vegeta also didn't have a basis for it. What was fatherhood supposed to entail anyhow? What was a father supposed to be? His time with his own father had been limited. His memories with the king involved instructions on how to behave as the prince of all Saiyans, how to train, improve, live up to the ancient legend of his people. They didn't "hang out," the way Trunks wanted to so often, wiling away time playing silly games and eating junk food. And he had certainly never sought out his father for advice on social situations and friendships, inasmuch as Vegeta had ever really had those.

Unclehood was an even stranger territory. He knew, in a vague sort of way, that he'd had an aunt, a woman cloudy in his mind's eye, a peripheral figure in distant memories of unnamed royal occasions. Her very name escaped him. This was all he had to draw upon when it came to the nature of his relationship with the girl.

But her presence was raising…issues he hadn't ever really considered before. Something in his blood was telling him to keep her where he could see her, and the longer she was away the more the instinct itched at him.

Of course, what his instincts could be trying to tell him was that Kakarot was an incompetent fool who was barely qualified to take care of his own children, let alone anyone else's, and that left with him the girl was probably already up to no good. The last time she'd been without proper supervision she'd tried to steal a spaceship! Gods only knew what she was planning now!

Yes, he reasoned, yes, that was it. That was all it was.

He made his way up the stairs to the bedroom he shared with his wife, pausing for a moment at the door, his hand resting on the knob as he considered what, if anything, he should say to her.

That was another unexpected consequence of his life on Earth. He'd told himself, long ago, that his marriage to Bulma was one of convenience, that it was for Trunks – both versions of the boy – but that had never been true. Bulma could read his mind and mood since practically the first day he had taken up residence at her house, and that was something he had never planned on.

Steeling himself, he opened the door and walked in.

Bulma was sitting propped against the pillows on the bed, drinking cocoa and watching television. "Well, well, well," she said, turning to him as he sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her. "If it isn't Uncle of the Year!"

"Bulma…"

"Seriously Vegeta, what the hell has gotten into you lately? Are you really that worried about Acia, or is this another one of those 'I hate Kakarot' things again?"

Slowly, Vegeta lifted himself into bed next to his wife. "Bulma, how do you know Trunks is your son?"

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'how'? I gave birth to him!"

"In a hospital where, I understand, several hundred other women were also giving birth. If the doctors had taken the boy and then returned another child, with the same features, the same hair, would you know he wasn't your child?"

"Vegeta," Bulma huffed, reaching back to place the mug on her nightstand, "what the hell are you on about?"

"I would know," he said simply.

"What?"

"I would know he wasn't our son."

Bulma sat up further in the bed, twisting herself to face Vegeta, who was lying half-propped against the pillows, his eyes focused on the ceiling. She said nothing, watching his face intently, waiting for him to elaborate.

"You know that we Saiyans have heightened senses compared to humans," he began. "Scent is one of the ways we recognize each other."

"I know that already, Vegeta."

"I know you know." He turned his eyes towards her, brows furrowing in annoyance. "When a child is born," he continued, "they smell mostly of their mother, as you can imagine, due to the process of labor and birth. The mother's scent," he paused, searching for a word that would best describe what he was trying to say, "imprints on the child, so that after it fades away completely an element of it remains in the child's own, personal scent."

"Okaaaaay…"

"Siblings," he cleared his throat awkwardly, refocusing his gaze away from his wife's searching eyes, "can…use that imprint to recognize each other."

"Oh!" Bulma leaned over him, smirking slightly. "And let me guess, so can, say, uncles and nieces?"

Vegeta sighed wearily. There had been a time, not too long ago, where all his personal enjoyment that didn't come from training and food came from arguing with the blue-haired woman lying next to him. The witty banter, the insults, even the yelling was all part of that weird, hot, inexplicable chemistry the two had. It was all still there, even now, but sometimes it was just nice to have a normal conversation like normal people.

Or maybe he was just getting old.

Vegeta rolled over to face her, but couldn't stop himself from teasing, "You really think you're a genius, don't you?"

"You know it buster!" Bulma gave him her best look of smug self-satisfaction. "So that's what this is, then? Some special Saiyan instinct kicking in?"

"I believe so."

"So," Bulma leaned in closer, her hand resting against her husband's head, "how come you didn't recognize Trunks when he came from the future?"

"We weren't mates then," Vegeta replied. "There was nothing to recognize."

"I see. You recognize the mother, not the father."

"Correct."

Bulma was quiet for a moment as she ran the information through her head. "Your sister…"

Vegeta said nothing, but his dark gaze never left hers.

"What does this mean exactly Vegeta?"

"I don't know. Most likely, it means nothing. She'll be gone soon anyway."

"Will she?"

Vegeta's expression darkened, and he rolled away from her.

Bulma placed a hand on his shoulder gently. "Do you want her to come back here?"

"It's for the best. If she's planning another escape Kakarot won't be able to stop her. And I haven't forgotten the stunt she pulled. If she things she can defy my orders and get away with it, she is sorely mistaken."

"Yeah, okay Vegeta." Bulma lowered herself into the pillows, pushing up against the solid wall that was her husband's back. "Let's go with that."

"She does not need to be coddled Kakarot!" Vegeta was yelling – why couldn't the damn idiot just do what he was told for once in his life?! "She needs to be punished!" Flogged, preferably, although it was a long shot.

Goku grinned at his friend's angry face. He'd known this confrontation was coming when he offered to bring Chi Chi and Goten over to Capsule Corp., and in any case the prince's temper tantrums never really fazed him. "Why don't we talk to her about this first?" he suggested. "You know, see how she feels about it?"

"She does not get a say in this!"

"I think Vegeta's right, Goku," Chi Chi said. Her conversation with her husband had eased her concerns somewhat, but still, the sooner the girl was out of her house the easier she would sleep. "She's his niece; if she's going to stay anywhere it should be with him."

"Well, she's my niece too…"

"SHE IS NOT YOUR NIECE!"

Bulma sighed into her coffee cup. For all she was worried about her husband running off to face threat after threat, what would probably end up killing him was medical complications resulting from high blood pressure.

"Okay, okay! Just relax buddy!" Goku said, holding up his hands in surrender. "Just give me some time to talk to her. A day! Just one day!" he said as Vegeta's face contorted into an even deeper scowl. "Promise!"

"One day, Kakarot." Vegeta breathed menacingly. "One day. Or I'll come to your house and drag her back here myself."

"Acia?"

The girl turned over in bed – Gohan's bed – and sighed loudly. At least when she went back to Capsule Corp. she would get a good night's sleep. Goten seemed to want to have his most philosophical discussions at night.

"Are you going to miss me when you go back to Trunks' house?" Goten asked, looking at her expectantly.

Acia smiled in spite of herself. Goten's need to be liked was pathetic, but it was also kind of adorable. "Yes."

Goten's face split into a wide smile. "Really?! Does that mean you like it here better than there?"

"Yes." A lie, but fairly innocent compared to others she'd told over the years.

In truth, Acia had mixed feelings about her return to Capsule Corporation, although she'd taken the news as stoically as possible. It was, of course, inevitable – Chi Chi hadn't even bothered to hide her glee when she informed her that Vegeta was demanding she return to 'face the music,' as she'd said. And while Acia still didn't care what Chi Chi thought of her, it would be nice to not have a woman staring daggers into her every time she walked into a room. Certainly life at Capsule Corp. was more stimulating than life at Mt. Paozu, and she was looking forward to returning to the lab and training with Bulla and Marron.

On the other hand, she could only imagine what her uncle had in store for her. When she misbehaved when she was a child, her father would lock her inside a small room, barely a few square feet large, for what seemed like a lifetime. In that tiny space she would go wild with frustration, her ki spiking erratically and her power literally bouncing off the walls. Occasionally he'd hit her – not particularly hard, since Finn always objected loudly to this form of discipline.

Vegeta struck her as significantly more sadistic than her father.

Then there was Gohan. Acia rolled over again. His scent was totally infused into the bed and she inhaled it with every breath. It had made it difficult to sleep the first couple days she spent here, and she wondered now if that was what had driven her to grab him that afternoon by the riverside.

It had been one of those strange impulsive moments that had started to overtake her ever since she'd hit puberty at 15 years old (finally passing the five-inch mark, a highlight of her life). That, and curiosity. She had just wanted to know what it felt like, what all the hype was about, and Gohan was there and, if not willing, at least not unwilling. Could you blame her?

It was true, she admitted, that the time she spent with him was enjoyable. But it was also true that Gohan was a complication in her life on this planet – he could make it much more difficult than it had been. He seemed to expect something from her, and Acia couldn't imagine what that could be.

Acia's parents had never given her the 'actions have consequences' speech that is a staple in the lives of so many teenagers across the galaxy. She'd gotten it from everyone else – DeeDee, Finn, Quaorin, even Bain, after one particularly memorable occasion when she'd hidden under his bed to try to see him naked. He'd caught her immediately, much to her dismay. But her parents had never once given her that lecture, even when they punished her for something she'd done. They knew she could only ever learn the hard way.

Although the more she thought about it, the more Gohan didn't seem like such a terrible consequence. He was universally adored and trusted by her uncle's friends; her uncle himself wasn't as caustic to him as he was to others. That could be useful to her. How she wasn't exactly sure, but if anyone could find a way to exploit the situation it was her.

And even if he proved entirely useless, she could still spend time with him. Even if she was right and he wanted something more from her, well then…

We'll get there when we get there.

She fell asleep to the sound of Goten's deep breathing.

Sometimes, not even the hard way is enough.