By the way, this is my first A/U story, and I think it may turn into an epic. Please send comments/criticisms to queensaiyajin@aol.com. I love feedback of any kind!

"This was a bad idea," Vegeta murmured under his breath. He hated being made to wait, and this idiotic planetary council had kept them waiting far too long. He adjusted his armor, the newest Bulma had fashioned for him based on Saiyan designs. She’d joked that as much as she preferred him in a simple training gi and T-shirt, he looked much more regal in full armor. A lot of good that did him. Rossdark’s council was still making him wait as if he were a mere—

"Calm down," Bulma said at his side. "They’re his people. Let him handle them."

She was stunning in the dark green dress that brought out the blue-green highlights of her hair, and her light touch on his arm only made him think of how much he’d rather be someplace alone with her than here in this archaic stone building waiting for an audience with these backwards people.

Ever since Rossdark had met the elder Trunks and learned of the impending threat to his planet, he’d relentlessly urged Vegeta to speak to the Korwal-sei government and reassure them of his pledge to protect the planet. Finally he had agreed, when Bulma had suggested that she might be able to help the Korwal-se-jin build up their planetary defenses. It would do little good, Vegeta knew. Vegeta-sei’s defenses had been sufficiently strong when Frieza had struck, and it had still not prevented the destruction of the planet. But everyone needed hope, Bulma had told him, and the Korwal-sei-jin had the right to try to protect themselves.

"Pa-pa-pa-pa…" Baby Trunks chattered to get his attention. His lips twitched into the only smile he would allow himself right now as he took his son’s chubby fingers into a gloved hand.

"You don’t want to be here either, do you?" he said to the baby.

"I think he’s hungry," Bulma commented as she shifted the baby in her arms. She had rarely put the boy down in the last four weeks, and normally Vegeta would have scolded her for coddling him so. But he knew it was her fear for him that had made her excessively overprotective, and he couldn’t fault her for that.

"He’s not the only one," his older son commented from his other side. Vegeta glanced at Trunks and smirked at an impatience that mirrored his own. He couldn’t help but wonder if the boy’s striking similarities to him were inherent, or subconsciously copied over the last month that they had been involved in intensive training together. Trunks had definitely inherited his fighting power; already he had ascended to what they would consider Super Saiyan 2. His fearlessness, determination and stubbornness were all Vegeta. But the gentler side of Trunks, the compassionate intellectual who thought before he acted, and was not afraid to express his emotions openly—that was all Bulma. Whether her DNA or her influence, Vegeta wasn’t sure. But he was thankful that the boy had had her throughout his ordeal. He might have been an obnoxious, cold, son of a bitch like me if he hadn’t, he admitted to himself.

You’re not cold, Bulma said in his mind, then giggled.

Vegeta frowned. Stay out of my thoughts, woman, he thought to her, though the annoyance in his tone was just a cover for his embarrassment.

So, stop thinking so damn loud! she countered, then smiled sweetly and batted her eyelashes at him when he glared at her.

His face softened and he smiled at her with his eyes. He couldn’t stay angry with her for long. What was it about this woman that totally enraptured him?

"Look, Father. Rossdark’s coming out."

Vegeta’s mind snapped back to the business at hand as his friend came over to them, his expression apologetic. "I’m sorry, Ouji-sama. The Council was…deliberating."

"You mean fighting," Bulma said.

Rossdark shrugged tiredly. "It is the same as always, Princess. It has not been easy."

"This ‘democracy’ of yours is ridiculous," Vegeta commented with disdain. "You are the leader of this planet. You should simply make all of the decisions."

"We don’t believe in that on Korwal-sei," Rossdark told him, shaking his head.

"Nor do we on Earth," Bulma replied, then turned to Vegeta. "This is a Republic. Rossdark can’t act on his own without giving his people a voice."

"And do you think all those fools in there who’ve never set foot off this planet have any idea of what is at stake?" he countered.

"Shhhhhh!" she said in a hushed whisper, and he realized that perhaps he had said that a bit too loudly. But who cared? It was the truth!

"Please, come into the chamber, Ouji-sama. You have many grateful allies amongst the Council. Your presence, I’m sure, will resolve any doubts."

Vegeta nodded, following Rossdark, with his woman and his son at his side. The baby was cooing in her arms, and he thought once more that it was terribly inappropriate to have brought him to this place. But Bulma trusted no one with him, and he couldn’t say he blamed her. She’d

also argued that it was only fitting for the Council to see him, and to know that they too were a family with much at stake. The Saiyan Race did not have a very popular reputation, despite all Vegeta had done for this planet. Bulma had said, They’ll see you as more human—Pardon the expression.

The twelve members of the planetary council had stood upon seeing him enter, and Vegeta took the chair indicated to him, nodding for the rest to be seated. There were some familiar faces—senators he had met at Rossdark’s house, including the Senior Council Member, a kindly elderly woman named Lizbeta. She spoke now, smiling warmly despite the obvious tension in the room.

"Prince Vegeta, Princess Bulma, and Prince Trunks, we welcome you to this meeting of our council. Rossdark has already briefed us on the amazing story told by Prince Trunks. Prince Vegeta, I trust you are certain that this young man is who he says he is?"

Perhaps a month of getting to know his son made the question seem unnecessary, almost insulting. "Without a doubt," Vegeta responded, glancing proudly at the young man.

Suddenly, a balding man whom Vegeta had never seen, broke in with disdain, "You expect us to believe that this grown man is one and the same as that baby? We are not as technologically advanced as your race, but we are certainly not stupid! Surely you can offer some proof!"

Vegeta glared at the impertinent fool. "Unless you are capable of testing his DNA, which I know you are not, you will have to take my word as proof. He is my son, and everything that he has warned will come to pass surely will, if I do not take some action to change it."

The bald man eyed him suspiciously. "He brought with him supposedly a communication of some kind, from the Princess. Are you willing to submit that to the council as evidence?"

"Absolutely not!" Vegeta snarled angrily. "That was a private communication from my wife to myself, and it’s nobody’s blasted business but my own!" The mere thought of these idiots becoming privy to something so personal was making his ki raise with his fury.

"Oh, but it is, Ouji-sama," the man said quickly, his emphasis on Vegeta’s title mocking respect. "If it foretells the destruction of our planet—"

"Enough, Jorlegan!" Rossdark stepped in, knowing Vegeta’s temper better than any of them. "You will show proper respect to the Prince and his family, or you will be ejected from these proceedings!"

Lizbeta glared at Jorlegan as she said, "This Council would not presume to invade upon Prince Vegeta’s privacy." She turned to Vegeta. "Ouji-sama, as Senior Council Member I humbly ask your pardon for our colleague’s rashness. It has been a long day, with very disturbing revelations. We have asked you here merely to explain to us what you will do to protect Korwal-sei from King Cold."

Vegeta nodded silently, pushing down his anger, even as he felt Bulma willing him to calm down. "The Tsiru-jin King is far stronger than either Frieza or Cooler. But he will be no match for me in my current state. My son has been training with me as well, and he’s probably the second most powerful Saiyan after myself. He will join in the fight if necessary." Vegeta knew that Trunks had every intention of taking part in destroying Cold, and he would indulge his son in that pleasure. But he would be damned if he’d let these fools think that he couldn’t do the job himself.

"It is our understanding that in Prince Trunks’ time, King Cold destroyed Korwal-sei before you could battle him," Lizbeta stated. "What do you intend to do to prevent history from repeating itself?"

How much had Rossdark revealed to them? "In Trunks’ time, Cold was after my wife and son. I sent them away in a space pod for their safety." He paused, the memory of Bulma’s holographic image flashing through his mind. "He intercepted them," he said simply, forcing himself to keep from envisioning the horrors that had taken place as a result.

Bulma could sense how difficult this was for him, and spoke up. "The baby and I will stay here on Korwal-sei. If he’s after us, he’s going to have to come here, and get through Vegeta and Trunks first."

Lizbeta nodded, satisfied, glancing down at the baby with compassion. She alone seemed to comprehend how deeply personal this was. The others were silent, as if too small-minded to even understand the universal implications of the situation. "Rossdark said you had some technology that might be useful in helping us to detect the invaders before they arrive."

That was Bulma’s cue, and she pulled out the schematics she had been working on for weeks now. "It’s a global early warning system. Even though Vegeta and Trunks will be able to sense King Cold’s ki signature before he even gets here, this will detect anything entering Korwal-sei’s solar system long before it nears the planet."

"So we will know that our end is near," another council member murmured.

"No," Bulma said with more patience than Vegeta would have been able to muster with this group. "So that Trunks and Vegeta can take care of him before he has a chance to do this planet—or anyone on it—any harm."

"Wouldn’t it be easier to just use Rossdark’s last remaining wish from the dragon to eliminate King Cold?" Lizbeta asked. Some of the others present raised their eyebrows as if they still did not believe that the mystical dragon even existed.

"We have considered that," Rossdark told her. "But the wish is not mine to make. I forfeited the dragon’s wishes to Prince Vegeta after using the one I desired to bring back my wife."

"The wish will be used to revive all those who were killed by Cooler in his attack on Korwal-sei," Vegeta told them. "To waste it on destroying King Cold would be pointless. My son and I can see to that with no problem."

There were nods of approval from most of the Korwal-sei-jin present, but one seemed singularly unimpressed. The bald fool who had been so impudent before had decided to open his mouth again. "That is all very noble of you, Prince Vegeta," he said, "but in reality it seems to me that if it weren’t for your presence here on Korwal-sei, we wouldn’t be in need either of protection or a wish to bring back our dead."

"Your point?" Vegeta asked, glaring at the man. "If it weren’t for my presence here, Frieza would still be making periodic stops here to replenish his supply of slaves. Or does subjugation under Tsiru-jin rule seem preferable to maintaining your own sovereignty?"

"You’re a fool, Jorlegan!" another young man said in disgust. "Both my brothers were taken by Frieza. Prince Vegeta is a hero to our people, and should be treated with a great deal more respect and gratitude than you are willing to afford him.

"Perhaps we have only traded one master for another," Jorlegan replied dryly.

"I have no desire to rule your people, you idiot," Vegeta said with barely concealed contempt. "I am only here to fulfill my obligation to the dragon for the wishes granted almost a year ago. It is because of your president’s loyal service to me that I have vowed protection to your planet."

"Protection from whom, Prince Vegeta?" the unctuous fool had the audacity to challenge. "And who will protect us from your Saiyan race that has been responsible for the destruction of countless planets in the past?"

Vegeta hesitated, with the guilt of knowing that his father had played a great role in creating that bloody reputation that would be his alone to repair. The others seemed to await his response, and he knew at once that any show of arrogance or force would only serve to confirm Jorlegan’s accusations. "The Saiyans are a proud and powerful race. But it is true that Frieza’s influence led us down a destructive path. Now that we have been given a second chance, I have sworn to lead my people on a different course. I can make no excuses for the past, but I can assure you that I will do everything in my power to change the future."

"Korwal-sei could not ask for a greater ally or protector," Lizbeta pronounced.

"There are only an insignificant minority who would disagree," the young man who had chastised Jorlegan added, glancing with disdain at the fuming oaf as he spoke. He turned to Vegeta and his family. "We are honored to call you a friend to our people, Ouji-sama, and though we have little else to offer you, you do have our loyalty and trust."

Most of the others nodded and affirmed their support, and Vegeta began to think that perhaps this Jorlegan was an aberration and not representative of the average Korwal-sei-jin. The fool was looking about at the others totally flabbergasted, incredulous that no one seemed to share his concerns.

Vegeta addressed the respectful young man in particular as he replied, "Your loyalty and hospitality has been more than appreciated, as has your president’s service to us. Were it not for him, my wife might not even be alive today. I am forever indebted."

"You freed us from the Tsiru-jin," Rossdark responded. "It is we who are indebted to you."

"Oh, isn’t this lovely," Jorlegan broke in, his voice filled with contempt. "You naïve fools are so ready to kiss this Saiyan’s ass—"

"Are you saying you prefer to kiss King Cold’s?" a young woman who had been silent until now retorted in annoyance. "Prince Vegeta rescued us from bondage, Princess Bulma has advanced out medical knowledge by a century, and you act as if they were no better than those filthy lizards. Have you no respect?!"

"Tsiru-jin, Saiyan, one is as bad as the other! Are you all so gullible that you don’t realize the truth? That this Saiyan allies himself with us only out of his own convenience? Rossdark served him well, he says, and so he is our ally. But for how long? And just what does the promise of a Prince mean unless he himself sits on the throne? King Cold is far more powerful than the King of Vegeta-sei. Would the Tsiru-jin king not just as easily ally himself with us if we were to give him what he desires?"

Vegeta’s blood began to boil as a thousand warning bells sounded in his mind. "And just what would that be?" he asked, daring the man to answer.

Jorlegan glared at him fearlessly as he replied, "You would not ask, Saiyan, if you did not already know the answer. The only reason our planet is in danger is because Cold wants your wife and little half-breed Saiyan brat."

The careful control he had been trying to maintain was lost in the fury that propelled him towards Jorlegan at light speed. He could smell the man’s fear as he gripped him by the neck, willing himself not to snap it on instinct. "You insolent fool! If you value your pathetic life, you will never threaten my wife or child again!"

In his mind Bulma was asking him to stop, to spare this pathetic creature for the sake of keeping peace with the Korwal-sei-jin. Every natural impulse told him to destroy this potential threat to all that was his, but Bulma’s voice called to him, calming him, telling him that this was what would make him different from his father…

In disgust he threw the Korwal-sei-jin to the floor, not knowing if his conscience or Bulma had told him that this was the right thing to do. Perhaps they were one and the same. Jorlegan was rubbing his throat as he gasped for air, and in an asinine show of overconfidence suddenly pointed at Vegeta and said, "There! Is that not proof…of his true nature?"

Rossdark stepped to Vegeta’s side as he said angrily, "It is proof of Prince Vegeta’s mercifulness that you are not dead, as you deserve to be, you fool. You virtually suggested handing over his family to King Cold. All he wishes to do is protect them. In his place I doubt any one of us would react differently."

The murmurs and comments in the room made it clear that no one could disagree. Jorlegan’s show had done nothing but discredit him, while showing Vegeta in a more sympathetic light.

Lizbeta was glaring at Jorlegan as she said, "This council will not entertain or tolerate any discussion of friendship with the Tsiru-jin, especially if it involves harm to any Korwal-sei-jin citizen or inhabitant— and that certainly does include Prince Vegeta and his family. The Saiyan Royal family are our guests, and more importantly, our friends. To betray this basic precept of Korwal-sei-jin moral code would be considered by this council to be dishonorable and treasonous."

Jorlegan was silent, as if knowing he had pushed the envelope too far. Vegeta was impressed by Lizbeta’s sense of honor and loyalty, and once more knew that he had made a valuable ally in the Korwal-sei-jin people. Every planet had a few fools, didn’t it? He could name at least a dozen on Vegeta-sei.

Lizbeta’s face softened as she turned to Bulma. "Princess Bulma, would it be possible to meet tomorrow morning with our corps of engineers to discuss the specifications of the early warning system you’ve proposed?"

"Of course," Bulma replied. But only if you and Trunks babysit, she thought to him, her uneasiness after what had just transpired rippling through him.

After the meeting had been dismissed, and they were left alone in the room with Rossdark, Vegeta turned to him and said, "If that bastard goes anywhere near Bulma or the baby, I will kill him. You know that."

Rossdark nodded. "I would not blame you. He has always been difficult at best, but that was…" His voice trailed off as he looked them all in the eyes. "I am very sorry."

"Just keep him in line, Rossdark," Vegeta warned him. "It goes against my better judgment not to have destroyed him. Don’t let me regret it—"

"Vegeta!" Bulma said insistently. What a nag this woman could be!

"Do not be concerned, Ouji-sama," Rossdark assured him. "Jorlegan is a man of bold talk and little action. The entire council is loyal to you. He can do nothing."

Vegeta grunted as he took his leave, Bulma and the baby in his arms, and Trunks flying silently behind them. Why had the threat of a virtually powerless moron left him so ill at ease? He cursed himself at his carelessness in letting the man live. How much simpler things had been in the days when he would merely have blasted the son of a bitch into oblivion without a second thought! A Prince could not tolerate such blatant disrespect, nor ignore the insult to his mate and his heir. Was he a fool for showing restraint, was he weak for allowing his conscience—and his wife— to sway him from the natural protective instincts of his race? Mercy and compassion had never been words in King Vegeta’s vocabulary.

But—did he want to be his father?

"Penny for your thoughts," Bulma said softly in his ear. Her voice, and the warmth of their baby asleep between them, calmed the raging emotions within him in a way that nothing else could.

He smirked. "You could simply read them for free, and you usually do," he replied, tightening his hold on her as they neared the house.

"It’s better when I know you want to share them with me," she told him, and he sighed, knowing that she had probably been privy to everything that had been going through his mind anyway.

"Why must you always talk, woman?" he complained, though there was no anger in his voice. He set her down on the ground and faced her, his hands on her arms. "Is it not enough that you know my every thought, my every emotion—"

"You’re not your father," she blurted, knowing that he would share nothing with her verbally. "And you will be a much greater King than he ever was. Because you’re a better man, and you know in your heart what’s right and what’s wrong."

"It’s not wrong to want to protect your family at all costs," he said. "Every fiber of my being tells me that I should have destroyed that fool the moment he opened his mouth."

"I wish you had," Trunks said darkly, coming up behind them. "I have a bad feeling about him, Dad."

"Maybe you and I should go back and pay him a visit," Vegeta replied, dropping his hands from Bulma’s arms and turning to his son.

"Don’t you dare!" Bulma said with such force that the two men started.

"Are you telling me what to do, woman?" he asked in mock annoyance.

"Yes, I am! You can’t go around killing everyone you don’t like!"

"And why is that?" Vegeta asked dryly, smirking as he saw that he was getting a rise out of her.

"You’re impossible," she muttered, though the hint of a smile assured him that she realized he was just teasing her.

"Mom, I’ve seen a lot of guys like that Jorlegan," Trunks told her in all seriousness. "They’ll fawn all over King Cold and do anything to ingratiate themselves to him, just to save their own asses."

"It doesn’t matter, Trunks," she told him with all the confidence in the world. "You and your father are the two strongest men in the Universe. No one could get past you."

Her utter faith in them should have made him feel better than he did. Instead it evoked the growing dread that he would fail her, fail his son…again. Despite the outward self-confidence that he had displayed to the Council, inwardly he was terrified that no matter how much he trained, he would fall short. Trunks was a brilliant fighter, and probably as strong as Vegeta himself had been before his last ascension—yet alone he had been unable to stand up to Cold. What if all of their attempts to change history were in vain? What if time could not be changed? A cold shudder of panic rose from the depths of his soul, and he struggled to suppress it. He couldn’t let Bulma know how truly afraid he was. Though with chagrin he realized that there was probably little he could truly shield from her if she delved too deeply into their bond…

She was smiling at him now, and if she had sensed his train of thought, she was doing a hell of a job pretending that she hadn’t. "Let me put him in his crib, and I’ll make the two of you something to eat." He nodded silently, looking away, afraid of the self-doubt she might see in his eyes.

When she had gone he turned to Trunks, whose face was as emotionless as his own. But Vegeta knew what was behind those eyes, as if he were looking into a mirror of himself. "After dinner, we’ll train," he told his son, getting a nod of agreement. "But tomorrow, when your mother meets with the Engineers, you’re to accompany her and the baby, and not take your eyes off them. From this point on, they are not to be left alone."

Trunks’ face fell in disappointment. "But Father—"

"You said it yourself—anyone who might betray us to King Cold is a threat. I’m counting on you to watch over them while I train."

"But Father, I need to train too! I’m nowhere near ready—"

"You’ll get your own training in. As long as I’m with them, you can take your turn in the gravity chamber."

He’d meant to reassure the boy, proud of his desire to become stronger, though he personally considered his own training more vital to their survival. He’d let Trunks work out with him for more personal reasons, understanding the boy’s need to exact his revenge, and truly wanting to know what kind of warrior his son had become. On that count he had been more than satisfied. Trunks was a skilled fighter, with potential to become even greater. Their sessions together had been productive, even…enjoyable, as he’d had the opportunity to do what he had imagined to be still years away. But Vegeta had indulged himself and the boy enough. The danger that loomed must take precedent now, and protecting Bulma and the baby was the first priority.

Trunks seemed dissatisfied, but said nothing more, and he followed his father into the capsule house that would remain their home until this whole ordeal was over. It wasn’t a palace, Vegeta mused. But he would miss it.

Bulma watched her son’s face as Vegeta told her of his intentions for the next two months—basically, they would be taking turns babysitting her and Baby Trunks, training in shifts. It was overprotective at best. Though she hadn’t let the baby out of her own sight, she’d felt fairly safe going on her daily errands and spending time at her lab in town whenever it suited her. The thought of taking the baby with her while she tried to explain the schematics of her defense system, however, was problematic to say the least.

"Couldn’t one of you just watch the baby while I meet with the Engineers, and then I’ll be fine with him once I’m back home, and you two can train as you have been—"

"Absolutely not," Vegeta snapped. "You won’t go into town without protection, and it’s a waste of precious time for one of us to babysit while the other accompanies you. You’ll take him with you, and Trunks will see to it that you’re both safe."

"Come on, Vegeta—" she began, but as he slammed his coffee cup on the table so brusquely that it shattered, she realized suddenly how unnerved he had become.

"There will be no further debate!" he pronounced, rising from the table.

"How about an apology for breaking one of my favorite cups," she said blandly, though her mind had begun to search his to capture some stray thought that might explain his sudden anxiety.

He breathed deeply, looking away from her even as he closed his mind to hers. "I’m sorry," he said quietly, though she could swear it was for more than just the cup. He knew how she hated to be closed out of his thoughts.

Then why won’t you let me in? she thought insistently to him.

His only reply was to mumble that he was going to the GT chamber, and that Trunks could join him if he wished.

Bulma shook her head and cursed softly, as her older son cleared the mess from the table. "Leave it," she said dully. "I know you want to train with him."

"He’s not exactly good company at the moment," Trunks replied, though by the way he was looking at her it was clear that he was concerned that Vegeta’s behavior might have upset her.

"He can be very stubborn," she said to him with a light smile. "But his heart is in the right place."

Trunks nodded. "I think he’s worried about fighting King Cold. He acts confident and all—but he’s afraid something will still happen to you."

"And to you," she added with meaning. "That baby means more to him than he can even admit to himself. If anything were to happen to him—or to me—" She paused, not quite sure how to put into words what their deaths would do to Vegeta. He would be devastated. He would go mad. And the gods help the Universe if it were to feel his wrath…

"I know, Mom," Trunks said, saving her from having to go on. "And more than anything I came here to make sure that nothing happens to any of you, including Dad. It’s just that I—I thought I would spend the next two months training with him."

Bulma smiled at her handsome son, taking his hand and squeezing it. She’d known that this was what was truly bothering Trunks. "You’ve enjoyed spending time with your father. Training with him. Haven’t you?"

He looked down, embarrassed that his emotions had been so transparent. How like Vegeta he was! "It’s been…amazing," he admitted. "Something I dreamed of all my life, but never thought I would be able to do."

"I know," she said tenderly. "That’s understandable. And for what it’s worth, I know he’s really enjoyed it too. He’s very proud of you, even though he might not say it aloud."

Trunks looked up at her with a slight smile. "Really?"

"Yeah, really," she told him, confiding, "He’s even said that he can’t wait for Goku to meet you and see how much stronger you are than his son."

Trunks’ face sobered, making Bulma wonder what she could have possibly said wrong. "Come on, Trunks, cheer up. After you and Vegeta destroy King Cold, and we go to Vegeta-sei, you’ll have years to train with your father—"

She stopped mid-sentence at it struck her like a bolt of lightning. And before she could even speak, Trunks had voiced the worst thing she could have imagined possible.

"I won’t be going back to Vegeta-sei, Mom."

"What are you talking about?" she said, her heart beginning to pound with fear.

"I’m going back to my own time," he told her.

"No, you’re not!" It was an order, not a request. She didn’t care how old he was; he was still her son, damn it, and he would do as she said.

Trunks sighed deeply, clearly troubled with having upset her. "Mom…listen to me. I came here to help, but…this isn’t where I belong."

"You belong with me and your father, Trunks Briefs!" she said in no uncertain terms. "I didn’t send you here just to help. I sent you to stay. There’s nothing for you in that other time. We’re both dead, and our planets are destroyed. Why would you possibly want to go back to…to nothing?!" She was becoming almost frantic at the thought of losing her son, and wished Vegeta hadn’t been in that damned GT Chamber, oblivious to what was going on. She put her hands on Trunks’ arms, only then realizing that he had begun to tremble with the force of his own emotions, emotions that he had learned to hide almost as well as Vegeta. "Trunks, please… Don’t even talk like this. I can’t lose you—"

"You won’t, Mom," he said softly, his eyes moist. "I’m right upstairs in my crib."

Did he really think that? Did he really believe that he was merely some spare copy of the child who slept innocently upstairs? "It’s not the same, Trunks! You and Chibi are like two different people to me now. Both my sons. Each as important as the other. We love you, and we need you here. There’s no reason for you to go back—"

He hesitated, clearly touched by her words, as if wanting to believe that he had an identity here, a life, that was purely his own. But his face hardened with cold determination as the needs and obligations of another lifetime pulled his heart elsewhere. "I have a score to settle."

So. That was it. "You’ll settle it here," she replied.

He shook his head. "It’s not the same, Mom. I’m stronger now. I’ve got to go back to destroy King Cold. I’ve got to make him pay for everything he did to us!"

It was then that she began to cry, the tears that Trunks himself could not…or would not. And she hated that monster for the hell that he had put her little boy through, the torture that had stripped him of his childhood and scarred his soul forever. Her future self had entrusted him to her, to her and Vegeta, to heal, to love. Had that Bulma ever imagined that her son might want to go back, to avenge what could not be avenged by merely preventing history from repeating itself? She took him into her arms, hugging him tightly, not caring if it embarrassed him to be held like a child. He was her child, her flesh, and she would not let him walk back into Hell if it took her last dying breath to prevent it. "I won’t let you go," she told him, half-demanding, half-pleading. "I won’t."

"Momma, please," he begged in a whisper against her ear. "After what he did to you—" His voice broke off, and she hugged him tightly as he sobbed silently against her shoulder.

"It’s okay, Trunks," she said softly, caressing his hair. "It’s okay. I know you want to make him pay, but that’s not what your mother—what I ," she corrected herself, "wanted for you. I told you, you were sent here for more than just to help. You were sent to live, to get back what was taken from you…and that includes me and your father."

Slowly he pulled away from her embrace, looking her in the eyes, his own reddened but dry of the few tears he had allowed himself. "Is that…what she…what you…said in that message?"

She nodded. She’d never told him exactly what his mother had revealed. But he had to know what she had intended for him. She owed that to her future self. She owed that to her son.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he looked at her again, he nodded weakly. "Okay. If that’s what you wanted, Mom…if that’s what you want…"

"It is." On both counts, that was the truth. She smiled and embarrassed him with one more quick hug, then said, "Now go on and spar with your father. I know you Saiyans are a lot more comfortable beating each other to a pulp than getting all emotional."

He grinned, but intimated, "You’re half right, Mom. Don’t forget, I’ m half-human too. And I was raised by one of the most emotional women who ever lived." He bent to kiss her on the cheek, hesitating for a moment to whisper, "I love you, Momma," in her ear. Then he was off to seek out that special father-son bonding that could only take place in a sparring session.

Bulma watched him go, relieved for now that she would not lose him, but painfully aware of just how difficult it would be to heal the wounds of his lifetime. She’d known from the start that that would be her mission with Vegeta. But by the gods, she had never thought she would have to do the same for her son. Damn those Tsiru-jin bastards! She hoped they would all rot in Hell!

"Now, raise your power, slowly…"

Vegeta watched with the eye of a sensei and the pride of a father, as his son stood before him, the awesome power of the Super Saiyan 2 form surging forth. It was a ki he’d grown familiar with, a signature that seemed to blend his power with Bulma’s inner strengths. On some level, it was not unlike the baby’s, although thousands of times stronger. But there was more. A darkness, a loss of innocence borne of his eldest son’s horrific childhood, that both made him powerful yet had hardened him in a way that Vegeta knew too well. The gods forbid his youngest child should suffer a similar fate. Vegeta would give his life to prevent that.

"A little more…" he instructed, as Trunks struggled on the cusp between Super Saiyan 2 and the next ascension.

The Gravity Chamber roared with Trunks’ effort, and in the back of his mind Vegeta could imagine Bulma screaming at them for destroying her masterpiece. She’d tweaked the controls to well over 550 G, though she’d fought him all the way against it. She’d warned him not to push himself too hard, not to push the boy beyond his limits. But he’d told her that that was the key—going beyond their limits, until they could reach no further. Only then would they be prepared. Only then could he face King Cold, or any other arrogant bastard who dared to fuck with him…

"More, Trunks!" he ordered, caught up in the exhilaration of his son’s imminent ascension. "Think of Cold, and how much you despise him! Think of what he did to your mother!" Vegeta struggled to keep his own voice firm and steady as the images fueled his own hatred. "Think of…what he did to you!" The break in his voice silenced him, and he hoped that his son had not heard it. Gods, if there was anything beyond Super Saiyan 3 he knew he would reach it if Cold laid a hand on his family.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…."

"That’s it, Trunks! Let your anger feed your power!" Vegeta’s eyes opened wide in amazement as he watched Trunks’ golden hair slowly start to extend, his face morphing into what Bulma had only described to him, his muscles bulging, his entire body seeming to shake with the transformation…

…and then, even as the elusive Super Saiyan had teased Vegeta with its brief appearance so many times, the promise of ascension faded beyond his son’s reach. Trunks collapsed on the floor, his breathing ragged, his lavender hair falling into his eyes as he cried out, "Damn! Why the fuck can’t I do this?!"

How Vegeta knew this frustration! How his heart twisted in sympathy for his son! He walked over to him, as Trunks’s body seemed to still heave from the strain, knowing full well the shame that made his son avert his eyes. Vegeta reached down tentatively, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. "You’ve done well,…my son."

Trunks looked up at him then, and Vegeta knew by the expression in his eyes that he had done the right thing. "Thank you, Father," Trunks managed as he caught his breath. "But—it’s not good enough."

"For now it is," Vegeta told him, as he offered him a hand to help him up. "You’ve made excellent progress. When the time is right, you will ascend. I have no doubt of that."

"But the time is right now," Trunks retorted as he came to stand before his father.

Vegeta shook his head. "You can’t choose the time of your Ascension. Training may prepare you, and bring you closer, but in the end, there has to be a need. You won’t transform simply because you wish to. You have to have a reason to ascend." He paused, looking into his son’s eyes as he admitted, "Years of struggling to attain Super Saiyan were fruitless for me…until that day Frieza nearly killed your mother. And at that moment I wasn’t thinking about being the ‘Legendary reborn’—all I knew was that I had to save her… or die trying."

He knew he sounded like a sentimental fool, but it was a Truth that he could no more deny to his son than to himself. Trunks was looking at him in wonder as he said, "Then it was because of Mom…that you transformed."

Vegeta nodded wistfully. "In more ways than you can imagine," he murmured, then, embarrassed by his revelations, added, "Of course, you mustn’t forget superior strength and intensive training. We are Elites, you know, of Royal Blood. Not third-class soldiers like your mother’s friend Kakarot—"

"Yes, Father," Trunks said obediently, trying unsuccessfully to wipe the smile from his face. To hell with decorum. Didn’t his son deserve to know the truth? Mortified as he was to have been so candid, there was some remarkable comfort in having shared this part of himself and his wisdom with his son. Could moments like these make up for all the years he had not been there to help this boy become a man?

"Come, we’ve had enough for today," Vegeta said, his energy spent on many levels. He smirked as he added, "I think there might be another battle waiting for me at home."

"Mom can be pretty scary when she gets mad," Trunks agreed as they walked towards the capsule house. "But I think she’s gotten over the broken cup."

Vegeta grunted, but made no reply. He knew the broken cup was just the tip of the iceberg.

With relief he found that she had already gone to bed by the time they returned to the house. The bedroom lights were out, and he glanced down at her still form as he made his way to the shower. With a tinge of guilt he knew that she had most likely fallen asleep still angry with him. Trunks had no way of knowing the real issue that lay far beyond his irritable behavior and smashing that blasted cup.

He had closed his mind to her. He had purposely shut her out of his thoughts, at a time when he knew she needed more than ever to feel his presence. He’d convinced himself that it was to protect her, to spare her from his fear and uncertainty over what would happen if he failed to defeat King Cold. He’d subtly begun to distance himself from her, limiting his telepathic communication with her, hoping that she would not sense the panic that crept into his thoughts more and more as each day passed. Only now did he admit to himself the shameful truth—that he was mortified by his own fear, and could not bear for her to know that her mate, the Prince of all Saiyans, was terrified. How would she look him in the eyes knowing what a coward he was? How could she trust him to protect her and their son, when he had begun to doubt his own ability to do so? The image of Future Bulma, the Bulma whose pain would haunt him to his dying day, flashed before his eyes, and a low growl rose in his throat, even as his eyes burned with unshed tears. No! He would not let it happen again! He could not!

The steam from the shower was making each breath seem a struggle, and he closed his eyes for a few moments as he reined in his emotions. The hot stream of water worked at the knots of tension in his back even as he willed himself inner calm. Moments later, the panic had passed, and he stepped from the shower, drying himself quickly and wanting nothing more than to fall into the escape of sleep with her in his arms.

He glanced at the baby, asleep in his crib, not far from their bed. It still amazed him that this Trunks and the man with whom he had been training were one and the same. He indulged himself in a few selfish moments of watching his son’s steady breathing, before slipping into the bed.

Her back was to him, and he spooned his body against hers, relishing her warmth. His hand fell on her bare leg, smoothing its way under her silk robe and around to the front of her body. He smiled wickedly to himself as he realized she wore nothing beneath. She must have just come from the shower and fallen asleep waiting for him. Her hair was still damp, the scent of her shampoo still fresh as he buried his face in her shoulder, kissing her lightly as his hand on her stomach drew her closer. Her breathing seemed to quicken, and he knew she was awake, and had felt his growing desire pressing insistently at her from behind. His hand caressed its way up to her breast, cupping it, as his tail instinctively wrapped itself around her thigh, gently separating her legs for him…

"So, do you think you can just act like an asshole, then make love to me and make everything better?" she asked in a whisper that still jarred him from his reverie.

He smirked, knowing he hadn’t gotten off that easy, but replied softly, "It usually works," as he continued to kiss her neck.

Bulma gently lifted his tail from her leg so she could turn to face him, her blue eyes serious but devoid of the anger in her voice. "Not this time, Vegeta," she said quietly.

He growled, the touch of her fingers on his sensitive tail only intensifying his frustration. "Bulma, please," he rasped, aware that it was the first time he had ever had to beg her for sex, and finding that disturbing. His desire for her was almost painful, as he implored, "I…I need you…"

"I need you too," she said, her eyes filled more with sadness than desire. "But not just like this. Not just physically. I can’t…feel you in my mind. And it hurts, Vegeta."

He could feel her reaching out to him, just as surely as he sensed the barrier that he himself had raised to prevent her from delving too deeply into his thoughts. He had done so almost unconsciously at first, but with every attempt she made to reach the inner sanctum of his being, he found himself resisting even more. Why must she invade his privacy like this? Didn’t he have anything left that was his alone? Did his every thought, his every sensation, have to be public knowledge?!

Bulma’s eyes opened wide, and he realized with regret that he had carelessly allowed his silent grumblings to slip through his self-imposed mental exile. Her face hardened into a mask of indignant anger as she said, "You chose to bond with me, Vegeta. I didn’t force this on you."

"No, you didn’t," he replied evenly. "But you don’t have to know my innermost thoughts every moment of every day. I don’t invade your mind as you do mine—"

"You don’t have to! I don’t make a deliberate attempt to shut you out!"

She was right, and yet…"I don’t nag at you constantly," he replied dryly. This bickering was not conducive to maintaining a healthy erection, but the heat of her body was infectious. Why couldn’t she simply put aside these damned emotions so they could lose themselves in that sweet thrill that never failed to calm the raging storm within him? "You talk too much," he snapped, no hint of the teasing manner with which he usually accused her of that fault.

"And you feel too little," she spat back at him, her eyes ablaze.

Why was it that this verbal sparring both irritated and excited him at once? On instinct he pushed her down on her back, so that he was on top of her, his face less than an inch from hers. Gods, she was so beautiful, even more so when she was enraged with him. "Then let me feel what it’s like to be inside you," he said in a hushed whisper, feeling her heart quicken beneath his. "Pure …mindless… pleasure…" Free of all the intricate workings of the human mind, the rational thought that complicated what should be primitive instinct alone…

"Is that what you want?" she challenged.

She was trying so hard to seem indifferent. Didn’t she know that the scent of her arousal had already given her away? Foolish woman! "Yes!" he groaned, tasting her neck, his tail inching back between her thighs.

"Then that’s…what you’ll get!" Even as she breathed those words, he could feel her body responding to his, her legs parting as she rose up towards him. There was no need for more foreplay than their quarrel had been. She was ready for him, more than ready, and as he slid slowly into her moist warmth his body shuddered with the desire that he would have to struggle to control if he was to savor this wicked pleasure. Even as he began to move within her, losing himself in the purely physical sensation, the movement of her pelvis against him made him quicken his pace, driving into her more roughly than he usually dared. At the fringe of his conscious thought he wondered if she was all right, but when no reply came to him he slipped back into that mindless rhythm controlled by nature alone. Then, as her hands slipped suddenly to his tail and squeezed it at the base, control was thrown to the wind. He came into her violently, crying out her name with his release.

Even as his passion erupted within her, the walls he had so carefully constructed came crumbling down, as his spirit sought out hers, that final melding of souls that had come to mean that their union was complete. He’d had no sense of her at all, of her thoughts, her pleasure, her delight as their bodies became one. In his selfishness he had pretended that it didn’t matter, but in truth…

Bulma… his mind whispered tenderly to hers as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair.

Silence. Despite the warmth of her skin against his, of her gentle pulsing that still embraced him from within, Vegeta’s entire being went suddenly cold with the realization.

She was gone. The tendrils of her thought that normally interwove with his had utterly retreated, leaving behind a chilling void that he had not felt once since he had taken her to be his mate.

It was terrifying.

His heart began to pound in panic and fear. She was breathing beneath him, her heart beating steadily and yet…was this…was this what it would be like, were she to…?

Panic gave way to anger as he realized that she had done this deliberately, disengaging her being from his to teach him a lesson, to…

"You spiteful bi—" He choked on his words as he pulled away to look her in the eyes, seeing for the first time her unshed tears. She had not derived satisfaction from this. She had taken no pleasure in giving him a dose of his own medicine. Guilt and self-realization flooded him, and he turned away from her in shame.

For a long while he lay with his back to her, drowning in the desolation he had almost forgotten. How had he been so foolish and uncaring as to reject the very thing that had saved his soul? The bond he had forged with his woman had been the very key to his transformation, the source of all the good that had made him worthy of a second chance at life. Had she felt as terribly alone as he did now? Had he done this to her?

Her voice whispered silently to him, and he took in a breath of relief as he could feel her presence gingerly brushing against his mind. He turned to face her, knowing that if he did not mend the ties between them, he would go mad. Her face was wet with tears, and he reached up to wipe them from her cheek. How fragile she was, how precious, yet how helpless he felt to know that he was so dependent upon her.

"Vegeta…I’m sorry…" she wept. She knew his torment, knew what her withdrawal had done to him. But he could not let her accept the blame that was his alone.

"Shhhhhh," he said tenderly, caressing her cheek. "This was my doing. My foolishness. I had no idea…"

"I just wanted you to know—"

"What it’s like to be alone? To feel no real pleasure because the other half of your soul is gone?"

She was sobbing now, and he knew it was for him. Hadn’t he vowed never to make her shed another tear? He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as she wept silently against his chest. Gods, what kind of an uncaring bastard was he? He began to wonder if he had hurt her in his selfish desire. He hugged her to him more tightly, words failing him as he struggled to regain control of his emotions. Bulma, I am so sorry…Please forgive me…

I do… And with that she opened once more the floodgates to her mind and heart, as her thoughts, her feelings, her unwavering love, washed over him. Vegeta gasped as the wave of emotion overwhelmed him, and he willingly drowned in the essence of all that was Bulma. The peaceful fulfillment that had eluded him when he’d pleasured himself physically, now bathed him in a joyful glow of contentment. How had he ever shut himself off to this? How had he allowed his fear to separate him from the very thing he was terrified of losing?

Bulma looked up at him now, her blue eyes glowing with her love for him. He smiled at her lightly, kissing her gently on the lips. The mere taste of her skin made him want her again. But the next time it would be different. It would be for her. It would be for them. It would be the way it should always be.

"I love you," he whispered between kisses. "I love you."

But he knew the words were unnecessary now. Their souls were one again, and that was how things were meant to be.

"I love you…"

His words ignited her desire even more than his touch, if that were possible. It was so rare for Vegeta to voice those three words, the sentiment he assumed she should already know. But he knew what they meant to her, and that was why he had spoken them, despite the fact that his love had enveloped her as their minds and spirits had melded together once more.

"Oh, Vegeta…I love you too…" she said breathlessly between kisses.

I want you again, he thought to her, kissing her deeply. All of you, this time…But only…if you want that too.

She giggled in his mind, twisting her fingers in his hair as their kiss deepened. Do you really have to ask?

It was then that he separated from her to look into her eyes. "Yes," he said softly, his face serious. "After what happened before…I’m afraid…I might have hurt you."

Bulma sighed, touched by his concern. She couldn’t lie to him. He would know. "Only a little," she told him, hating to see the anguish that her answer brought to his eyes.

Vegeta breathed deeply, his face guilt-ridden. "I’m sorry…" he said with heart-felt regret. "I swear to you that I never meant to—"

"It’s okay," she assured him, putting her fingers to his lips to silence him.

No, it’s not… he replied, kissing them, too distraught for words.

Bulma pulled his face down to hers, kissing him deeply. Then make it better… make love to me…

I would be happy just to hold you all night long, he thought back to her, and she knew it was the truth. She could feel him reining in his passion, trying desperately not to allow his body to react the way it wanted to. But she needed him. She needed to erase the memory of that last time, that game of lust where each of them had been trying to prove something to the other. He’d tried to deny the importance of their spiritual bond, and she had shown him how unfulfilling their lovemaking would be without it. But it was a victory that had cost her much, as she’d inflicted upon him the very solitude from which she’d rescued him so many months ago in that little home on Namek. She’d vowed to have patience with him, to heal him…but the look on his face when he’d realized what she’d done made her despise herself for rejecting their bond. She never wanted to push him away again. For the next time she did, she feared he would recoil from her for good.

Never… he murmured through their bond. And I will never again have you like that…

She was still sore from the mindless way he had driven into her, like the savage he must have once been, driven by physical lust that was indifferent to her needs, oblivious to her pain...

Vegeta stopped kissing her, taking her into his arms and holding her close, his eyes closed as if trying to block out the memory of what he had done. She hadn’t meant to remember it so vividly, but he was so attuned to her consciousness that no stray thought would go unnoticed. "I’m sorry…" he said softly in her ear, his voice raw with emotion. "I’m so…sorry…"

He could speak no more, and she held him tightly, silently telling him that it was all right, that everything was all right now…But even as he held her she sensed there was something beyond the guilt, a fear, no, terror, that was eating away at him like a cancer. And as she dared to probe deeper, suddenly it was there, had been there all along, though he had shrouded it in his indifference, kept it locked away in a place that he had tried his damnedest to hide from her.

He was afraid. No, terrified, nearly paralyzed with fear as he had dwelled on what would happen to her, to their son, if he were to fail. And he’d been ashamed of that fear, keeping it from her lest she find out his secret, his weakness…

It’s okay to be afraid… she thought to him as she rested against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat quicken as he realized that she knew, and he held her more tightly as if it would make her stop her line of thought. Vegeta, it’s normal to be afraid…

You’ve never had anything to lose, she thought back gently.

She’d uncorked his emotions with that revelation that shouldn’t have been a revelation at all, and he tightened his hold on her so much so that she feared he might crush her bones. Sensing this he quickly loosened his grip, but she held tightly to him as she thought, Only a fool wouldn’t be afraid, Vegeta. I’m afraid, too. But I trust you. I know you’ll protect us.

I can’t lose you, Bulma! She could hear the panic even in his thoughts.

"You won’t," she said softly.

For a long time they held each other, their thoughts intermingled, as she soothed his fears and he slowly regained his calm. When he brought his lips to hers, the unspoken question passed between them once more. She could feel his arousal pressed against her, yet knew that he would be content to simply hold her, if that was what she wanted. The fact that he had hurt her, even if ‘only a little’, weighed heavily upon him, and he was prepared to hold himself back rather than chance causing her any distress. Bulma laced her fingers around his neck, kissing him deeply, as she sent to him once more through their bond, Please, Vegeta…Make love to me…

His kiss deepened. As you wish, my Princess…

With that he began the sensuous quest to know every inch of her, a gentle exploration that slowly brought her need to a fever pitch. If he had been selfish the first time, now he would make it up to her tenfold, his hands lovingly caressing her bare skin, leaving heat in their wake. His lips followed the path his fingertips had forged, tasting, savoring her essence. Through their bond she could feel his excitement, and it intensified her own, the fire between her legs burning wildly in anticipation. Please, Vegeta! She tried to speak, but could only moan softly in delight as his tongue twirled around her nipple, and he suckled at her breast. In answer to her pleas, his hand left her other breast, making its way down her stomach, hesitating briefly to play in her blue curls, then gently caressing her folds. For a moment she wondered wildly why he had paused, but then she felt the guilt of what he had done before nagging at him. He didn’t want to hurt her again, and he was afraid to ruin their lovemaking by causing her any pain.

"Please…" she breathed, lifting up towards his hand. She thought she would come immediately as his fingers slowly penetrated her womanhood, gently caressing as if rubbing a wound.

Is this…where it hurts? he asked tenderly.

Didn’t he know the pain was gone? Didn’t he know all she wanted now was to have him inside of her? Um…a little deeper… she thought back to him, and opened her eyes to see him smirking at her as he realized that it was her pleasure she wanted him to reach for, and not her pain. Still looking her in the eyes, he slid two fingers more deeply within her.

How’s that? He thought to her, smiling with satisfaction as she could only moan a reply. She closed her eyes, reveling in her husband’s gentle touch, thinking that nothing in the world could feel better than this…

Is that so, woman? Before she realized what he planned to do, he proved her wrong by bending down to taste her, his lips surrounding the nub of her pleasure…

"Ohhhhhhhhh!" she cried out as the orgasm rocked through her entire being.

When she could think clearly again, she felt his love wrapping itself around her, even as he continued to cherish her still-pulsing body with gentle kisses. Bulma caught her breath and heaved a deep sigh of contentment as he rested his head against her stomach.

"Oh, Vegeta…that was soooooo good," she purred, running her fingers through his hair.

He looked up at her, obviously pleased with his work. Moving up to face her, he took her into his arms, holding her close to him. She could feel his own desire through their bond, as blatant as his arousal that pressed against her. Still, he made no move to go on, as he thought to her, We can stop here…if you wish it, my princess…

It occurred to her suddenly that he was willing to forgo his own pleasure now that he had given her her own, still guilty over the way he had taken her before. She smiled at him, loving him more at that moment than she had ever before, as she caressed his cheek. "I want you, Vegeta. I want you inside me," she said tenderly. With that she reached down to stroke him, smiling as he growled in delight.

It was her turn now, and she would make the most of it. Pushing him on his back she straddled him, the burning within her rekindled as she watched the absolute rapture on his face as she slowly lowered herself onto him. Vegeta moaned aloud as she slowly began to move on him, his tail wrapping itself around her waist, his hands on her hips to support her. The most powerful man in the Universe was under her control now, and she tightened herself around him, embracing him from within as they rode together towards completion. Just as she knew he was at the brink, she felt his tail inch slowly between her legs, brushing against her lightly, but just enough to…

"Oh!" she cried out as they climaxed together, and he hugged her to him as he erupted within her.

They fell asleep, their bodies and minds intertwined in a blissful glow of contentment, oblivious to everything but their love for each other.

When Vegeta awoke, the sun was high in the sky, a rather disorienting sensation for one who rarely slept past dawn. He sensed Bulma even before he saw her standing over the baby’s crib. In disappointment he realized that she had already showered and dressed. Some particularly vivid dreams of her had left him ready to continue where they had left off last night.

Aware that he was awake, and probably equally aware of his thoughts, she turned to him and smiled knowingly. "Good afternoon, sleepyhead."

He smirked. "And how long have you been awake? You could have at least waited for me to take a shower," he grumbled, standing to take her into his arms. "And how dare you get dressed when I want you again…" he murmured as he began to kiss her.

The baby had other plans…he still woke up at normal time… she thought to him, the scent of her arousal making him desire her even more.

Vegeta glanced in the direction of his son. "The brat’s sleeping now," he whispered, looking at her hopefully as he rubbed her nipple through her shirt.

With a smile she surrendered to him, and he picked her up to carry her back to the bed. Who’s in control now? he teased her, remembering her thoughts of last night. But as she bent down to take him into her mouth, he wasn’t quite sure himself.

Vegeta hadn’t realized how hungry he’d become until she set the huge plate in front of him.

You missed breakfast, she told him as she sat across from him, a tiny sandwich on her plate. And you must have worked up an appetite with that strenuous workout.

He glanced at her with a wicked smile. The most enjoyable sparring session I’ve ever had.

She laughed as she poured them coffee. Vegeta marveled at how easy the telepathic communication had become between them. Once he had ceased to resist their bond and opened his mind to her, their connection had intensified dramatically. It would probably be virtually impossible to keep anything from her now.

Bulma’s face darkened, as she feared suddenly that he regretted this deepening of their bond. "Vegeta, I’m sorry…I know it must be annoying to have me in your head all the time—"

"Hush, woman," he dismissed her, though there was no real malice in his voice. "I won’t soon forget the lesson you taught me last night," he admitted, then added softly, "and I wouldn’t have it any other way."

She smiled brightly at him, and he turned back to his food. He still had some difficulty with expressing his feelings outside of the bedroom, and he knew that their older son might walk in on them at any moment. "Where is Trunks, anyway?" he asked, changing the subject.

"He went upstairs to shower. He’s been training all morning, but I told him I needed him to come with me to meet with the Engineers in about an hour."

Vegeta nodded. "Good. My mind will be at ease then while I go to train."

"Vegeta—" she began in that voice that meant a debate was about to open.

He looked up at her. "I still haven’t changed my mind. The boy will guard you while I train, and while I am with you, he may take his turn in the gravity chamber, just as he did this morning."

"He would really rather train with you."

He sighed. He had enjoyed his sparring sessions with his son.

"It means so much to him, Vegeta. It’s something he dreamed of all his life."

The fact that his son had grown up without him would forever weigh heavily upon him. He shifted uncomfortably. "Bulma, the boy and I will have other opportunities to train together. When we return to Vegeta-sei—"

"Did you know that he wasn’t planning on going back with us to Vegeta-sei?" she broke in.

He frowned, as something in his stomach clenched. "What do you mean?"

"He was planning on going back to his own time to destroy King Cold," she told him.

The clenching in his stomach twisted into a full-blown knot. "I will not allow that," he snapped. "His mother is…gone. There’s no reason for him to go back!"

Bulma looked at him grimly. "Revenge…closure…I think those are pretty valid reasons, don’t you?"

Of course they were. Revenge. Pride. Honor. He would expect nothing less of his son. Yet the thought of him returning to that Hell…

"Don’t worry," Bulma told him. "I think I convinced him to reconsider. I told him his place is here with us."

"That is what…his mother wanted," Vegeta added, still having a difficult time separating his Bulma from her future self.

She nodded. "But I still think he could use some encouragement from you—"

Encouragement? What did she want of him? He’d done his best to relate to the boy, but emotional issues were hers to handle. She was staring at him expectantly, waiting for some assurance that he would do as she asked, so finally he replied, "Fine. I’ll encourage him. I’ll tell him that if he even tries to go back through time I’ll break his legs."

"Vegeta!"

He smirked at her slightly to let her know he was kidding, but the conversation was halted as Trunks came into the room. Bulma would try to pretend they had been talking of something else, but the boy was a Saiyan, damn it, and his hearing was probably as sensitive as Vegeta’s. But if Trunks had any idea that they’d been discussing him, he was feigning ignorance. Good boy. Never let them know your advantage.

"Hi, Dad. You slept late this morning. I thought maybe we could have gotten in a sparring session."

Vegeta grunted, not liking to be reminded that he had been so undisciplined, and embarrassed to think that Trunks might have guessed the cause for his late night. "I hear you were up training all morning. Good. How did it go?"

Trunks paused for a moment before responding, "Okay, I guess. But I still couldn’t ascend."

Vegeta was touched by the disappointment in his son’s eyes. How it reminded him of his own similar frustrations! He knew the boy needed him—his guidance, his training…his approval. For the first twenty years of Trunks’ life he had not been there for him. What kind of an asshole would he be if he wasted any opportunity to make that up to him? "Trunks," he began awkwardly, "I’ve been reconsidering our plan of action. You’ll get much further in your training with me as your sensei. Perhaps I can arrange for Rossdark to guard your mother and the baby while we train together."

It was probably a ridiculous notion to expect the president of an entire planet to personally guard his wife and child—but there was no one else he trusted, no one else nearly as powerful…and it had been the first thought that came to his mind. The bright grin on his son’s face, and the look of approval from Bulma, told him that he had done the right thing.

"I’d really like that, Dad," Trunks said gratefully.

"All right, then. For today, you’ll accompany your mother on her errands, and I’ll speak to Rossdark to make arrangements."

Thank you, Bulma’s voice came to him.

He nodded, pleased with himself, but uneasy nonetheless. He had made them both happy. Now he had to keep them safe.

* * * * *

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