Vegeta stared out at the inky blackness. The sun of this solar system would rise soon, but it wouldn’t be any lighter. The planet he had chosen was some one hundred eighty million miles from its star, the "sun" would be just a brighter dot in the sky. Out on the fringes of this system, his life was not ruled by the concepts of "day" or "night". It was not ornamented with the beauty of "sunrise" or "sunset". His body was surrounded by the one thing that filled his soul— emptiness. When he looked at the sky, he saw a reflection of his entire life—a great, never-ending darkness. There might be sparks of light here and there, but they could never fill the void. The darkness was too vast, too complete and soon even the lights would burn out and fade away.

He had left Kiara and Pegur three months after he joined them. During those three months, he trained in his capsule in the hanger of the cruiser, leaving only to take his meals in the giant food hall with its food synthesizers. This had the upside of saving his own stores for later, but he’d forgotten how bland synthesized food tasted. It took a lot of self-control not to open the food he’d brought from Earth (he knew Mrs. Briefs had gotten him some of those cookies with the white coating outside). Another downside was company. Kiara seemed to think they were somehow "comrades" based on their common backgrounds (all three had been hostages of Frieza) and appeared to have forgotten that once he would have killed her without thought had Frieza ordered it. Despite his best efforts to avoid the only other occupants on the ship, she still had found him in the food hall one day and decided to keep him company. She had been "dying to know" how he wound up with Bulma Briefs.

"She’s the richest woman on the Earth, you know! And she’s so beautiful! Didn’t you think she was beautiful?"

Vegeta shoveled more food into his mouth and gave what he hoped was a non-committal grunt. Kiara had obviously spent too much time on Earth and that planet’s fascination with celebrity had rubbed off on her.

"Well, I think she’s beautiful!" Kiara said. "So aren’t you going to tell me how you wound up as her date?"

"No."

"I don’t think Vegeta is the type to kiss and tell, Kiara," Pegur said, setting his food down and sliding into a chair. "As a matter of fact, there were quite a few bets placed that he wasn’t the type to "kiss" at all."

Vegeta stopped eating and looked up at Pegur. If Kiara had forgotten his past, Pegur hadn’t. Pegur was the type who stayed alive by finding out all he could and using what he knew.

"I hope you lost money," Vegeta said, so irritated that he didn’t even realize he was confirming Pegur’s suspicions.

Pegur laughed. "Oh no, Vegeta. I’ve always been certain there were uncharted depths to you. Unfortunately, the Cold clan owned all the gaming houses where those bets were placed, so I’ll never collect. I’ll have to be satisfied with being right. Kiara, you mother has sent another message."

"Wonderful! Be nice, Pegur! You know if any of those nasty Glambien pirates show up Vegeta is our only defense!"

"That and two hundred Veideri missiles," Pegur said.

"Oh yeah! I forgot about those. It won’t hurt you to be nice anyway," Kiara kissed his cheek and headed out the door.

"Sweet girl," Pegur said, watching her leave, "but not exactly going to set the galaxy on fire with her brains." His gaze slid to Vegeta. "Not like the Briefs woman and her father. I have to admit I was completely impressed with their brainpower. Somebody should take them somewhere where their abilities could be properly appreciated."

Vegeta looked up. "What are you suggesting?"

"Only that brainpower used to be a very lucrative commodity on the galactic market. I imagine it still is. Frieza may be gone, but already the Quesi and the Lokan have built quite respectable "mini-empires" if you will. The Quesi in particular—"

"I think," Vegeta said softly, "that you should forget that idea. Efforts in that direction will result in failure and death."

"Really? Interesting. I hadn’t though Earth’s defenses so strong, but perhaps you’re right. Opportunities abound in the collapse of an empire. I’m sure something else will come along."

He appeared to drop the conversation and began to eat his meal. Vegeta was almost finished eating when Pegur spoke again.

"So, Vegeta, what are you doing all alone in that capsule all the time?"

"Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m training."

"Training for what? Frieza’s dead. His father’s dead. The Ginyu Force is dead. Cooler is still out there, but he’s got a huge rebellion going on right now in his quadrant. So what or should I say "who" are you training for?"

"Again, it’s none of your business."

"So you are training for someone? Someone on Earth? A rival for Bulma Briefs attentions, perhaps? I remember reading somewhere she had a penchant for fighters. Is that how you wound up as her date at the symphony? Did she take a shine to your fighting style?"

"I wasn’t her date," Vegeta said quickly—too quickly.

"Really? So why did she come storming backstage to break up your little meeting with Kiara? She looked like a woman checking up on her date to me."

Vegeta said nothing. He’d already said too much.

"Of course, you never were the social type, were you?" Pegur said thoughtfully. "Which leaves the question of why were you with the beauteous Ms. Briefs at all? That’s a mighty fine capsule ship you have in the hanger. Nothing compared to this cruiser, of course, but top of the line Earth technology. Certainly not cheap." Pegur leaned forward. "So were you keeping Bulma Briefs’s bed warm in exchange for a way off Earth?"

Vegeta leapt across the table and grabbed Pegur by the throat.

"It looks like you’ve got a death wish that I can grant, Pegur."

Pegur didn’t panic. Although Vegeta could easily crush his neck, the grip around his throat was only to intimidate, not kill. Pegur smiled, albeit with some effort.

"I’m sorry if I insulted you, Prince Vegeta. Curiosity has ever been my bane. My mouth ran away with me."

He felt Vegeta’s fingers loosen slowly until he was released. Vegeta took a deep breath and brought himself back under control.

"I think that you should forget Bulma Briefs exists," Vegeta said, then he turned and left the room.

Pegur stared at the departing prince. "The question, Prince Vegeta, is can you?"

He left Kiara and Pegur as soon as he could find a suitable planet—one that had a breathable atmosphere and was devoid of life. He’d been here seven months, training constantly in gravity that threatened to break his bones, stopping only when his body could take no more. When that happened he left the capsule, stared at the universe around him and wondered at the journey his life had become.

For a man who had had many paths firmly placed before him during his life, he never could walk one for long. His path to the throne was blown away before he ever came close to the end. The next path he chose for himself—Frieza’s destruction. That path led to death. The path given to him by the Sages of Vegeta—the Foreseen One, the Legendary—had already been trod by one unworthy. But his new path, the destruction of the Usurper, this one he would walk to the bitter end. If only he could make the transformation. . . !

He looked up at the sky in the direction of Earth. He couldn’t see it of course; he was twenty-two light years away. It would take four months to return at his capsule’s top speed—and even then he might miss the androids arrival. . . .

He didn’t miss her, not really. He thought about her though. He pulled out memories the way Mrs. Briefs would pull out photo albums, flipping through them emotionlessly, images of the past. He finally discovered what it was about her that drew him to her so completely. It was her smile. When he came to her, she would smile in the most wonderful way. Her whole face would light up and he knew she was glad to see him. Not glad because she might be able to use him some way, not glad in the sick, anticipatory sense Frieza used to be when he summoned Vegeta; but glad because she liked the way he made her feel, glad he was there with her. Vegeta had never experienced it before—making someone happy. It had felt. . .good.

He wondered if she’d gotten back together with the weakling or maybe moved on to someone else. He hoped so. The more firmly out of reach she was, the more he could concentrate on his goal.

A lightening bolt shot across the sky, then another. Soon the entire sky became filled with electricity, shooting this way and that. An impressive show, one he found fitting for a man waiting for destiny.

When the meteorites began to fall, he turned it into a game, seeing how close he could let them get before he blasted them to bits. As they became larger though, the game’s stakes quickly went higher. Although his body was a small target and unlikely to be hit, his ship provided a much larger target. A direct hit by one of the larger meteorites could damage his ship irreparably, leaving him stranded. Suddenly, what had started out as game became life and death as he struggled to blast the meteorites before they could hit. There were so many of them! He was barely keeping pace as it was and the storm showed no signs of abating. Then suddenly, just when he was certain he couldn’t take anymore, with his strength failing and his resolve weakening, the meteorites abruptly stopped.

Vegeta searched the sky only to see the source of the meteorites, a giant asteroid, hurtling toward him. It was approximately five hundred meters across, effectively dwarfing his ship. He figured he had maybe ten seconds. He could fly out of the way of course, but without his ship, what was the point?

What was the point? And suddenly he knew there was no point. All he wanted, all he was working for, there was no point to any of it and suddenly he didn’t care anymore. Nothing mattered—not Planet Vegeta, not Frieza nor Kakarrot and not becoming a Super Saiyan. There was no fucking point and he didn’t care. So he screamed at the heavens and he gave it all up. . . and got it all back.

He wondered if his father could hear his laughter in HFIL, he thought as he smashed the asteroid to bits with his fist. He hoped so.

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It was purely coincidence that as Vegeta finally achieved his dream, Bulma went into labor. The last two months of her pregnancy had been particularly unpleasant—her feet swelled dangerously, forcing her to spend much of her day with her feet elevated and heartburn made eating a prelude to torture—so although she’d been dreading the birth of the baby, by the time the moment actually arrived she welcomed it as an end to her bizarre torture.

Her mother, for once, was a comfort rather than an irritant. She held Bulma’s hand, softly encouraging her, insisting that it was all worth it—she would understand when the baby came. Bulma secretly doubted that anything was worth all this discomfort and was certain she’d never looked worse in her life, but kept her opinion to herself.

Finally, (after another humiliating check by a nurse with fingers shorter than Gohan) they told her she was ready and called the doctor back in. The rest passed in a bit of a blur—she remembered pushing and feeling like nothing was happening even though everyone assured her she was doing "well". Then suddenly everything was happening and she couldn’t keep track because too much was going on and she was so tired and just wanted to sleep, but the nurse wouldn’t let her and kept telling her this was it, just one more push! So she pushed again and this one felt different, this one felt good, then she heard a baby cry.

"It’s a boy!" someone cried and finally they let Bulma lie back to rest. She was groggy when they handed her her baby and as she looked into that tiny face, she wondered why in the world she had been so scared of this little guy. How could anything so perfect be a problem, for goodness sake?

"Hey," she said softly to her son. "I’m your momma." She looked at his face and saw his blue eyes watching her--he’s so tiny! She gently stroked his cheek and fell in love.

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As always, a mega-huge THANKS to Ember for beta-ing.