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The dream is always the same. Vejitasei, my home, destroyed by a ball of energy cast from Frieza's hand. It moves so painfully slowly, but the planet has no chance of escape. His maniacal laughter combines with the scream of billions of voices in my head to create an intolerable cacophony of sound. I know only the all-consuming desire for vengeance, and the utter despair of knowing I have not the power to accomplish it. Yet. I am determined to gain it somehow. Whatever it takes. It's the least I can do for still being alive. I cannot quell the intense relief I feel, for not being there with them, and I am shamed by my cowardice. I am not worthy of my title.

I know I am dreaming, but there is no one here to wake me now, and I am powerless to escape its clutches on my own. It continues, and I find myself once again reliving my death at the hand of Frieza. I feel again his tail around my neck, holding me suspended above the ground while his fists pummel my broken body mercilessly. He taunts me and ridicules my lack of power. The despair is overwhelming. I no longer fight him, because I know I cannot win and wish it just to end. I have come so far, and yet still have failed. I am not a Super Saiya-jin. I am nothing.

Kakarot finally arrives, and quickly it becomes obvious how far above mine his power level is. Envy fills me, but my approaching death drains it from me almost instantly. All that matters at that moment is that he know the truth. That Frieza would at least meet his doom at the hand of a Saiya-jin, even if it would not be mine. I am bitter beyond imagining, but I force myself to choke out the words. I despise this soft-hearted imbecile, but in this instant he is the only one who can truly understand the loss of everything I held dear. In a way, that makes us brothers. I beg him to avenge our planet. I even say "please". I find myself crying; it seems my shame has no limits. But the pain, frustration, anger, and terror are all too much. I have come full circle. Even now, I still don't want to die...

I wake with a start, gasping for breath. Tears are streaming down my face, and I am grateful at least that there is no one but the moon to witness my disgraceful display of weakness. I attempt to gain control of myself, and repress a longing for something I won't admit to.

I lived so long with the goal of defeating Frieza that it became everything to me. I devoted every waking moment to planning his destruction. I trained beyond my endurance, and then some. For someone else to walk in, show me up, and then succeed where I did not was unendurable, after all that I went through. I didn't appreciate being wished back. It was probably inevitable that with Frieza gone I would fixate on a new target: the one who made a mockery of my life's goal. I didn't know how else to live. I gave everything to my quest. Without one, I had nothing left.

In the darkest hours of the night, I sometimes ask myself why I pursue this so single-mindedly. Until now, there has never been a need to wonder if things should have been otherwise. But now, I wonder what it would have been like to live a life not driven by the desire to kill. I wonder if I will ever know.

I wonder what it would have been like to be able to stay there with her.

Now, I will never know. She has moved on. The fact that it is my own fault does nothing to alleviate the pain. I've missed whatever chance there was of finding something else to live for, if such a thing is even possible for me. Relief wars with despair over this thought.

It seems like I have been training here forever. The days run together, until I have no idea how much time has passed. I try not to think too much. My mind must remain totally focused. Except for a little sleeping and hunting for food, my time is completely devoted to increasing my power. I improve daily. Nothing else matters. Certainly not her...

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It begins, late one night. It's still two weeks early, by my count, and my parents are away. I am under strict orders to call Yamucha if anything happens, but I don't. At first, I just don't want to disturb him until I am sure it isn't a false alarm, but my mood changes abruptly. There is only one person I want with me now, and since that isn't going to happen, I will deal with this alone. Due to the child's unique heritage, I wouldn't have gone to the hospital anyway. There isn't much Yamucha could do besides worry about me. And I just can't face the quiet, steadfast love in his eyes tonight.

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I jerk out of a troubled sleep, disoriented for a minute. Something is wrong. I frown; my physical senses tell me nothing is amiss. I see nothing, and there is no sound save the leaves rustling overhead from the occasional stirring of wind. But I am unable to shake this ominous feeling and return to sleep. I cast my mind out to touch her ki.

She is in pain, frightened and alone. When did I become so infuriatingly attuned to her??

Her anguish is like a siren's call and I am helpless against its pull. I have no choice but to follow. I know that I am the last person she would ever want to see again, but logic has no power against this compulsion.

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I pace endlessly through the darkened hallways of the house. I read somewhere that walking is supposed to help. Every few minutes I lean against the wall for support as another pain grips me. The physical torment is nothing compared to the emotional turmoil of my thoughts. Guilt, for bringing a child into the world without a father, and for not loving Yamucha enough to let him fill that role. Fear, that I will totally screw up this young life. Despair, knowing that the embrace I long for will never again be mine. And not a little bit of terror that something will go wrong and both of us could die.

I push away from the wall as the pain ebbs, and start to resume my endless walking.

"Shouldn't you be in one of those primitive human hospitals or something?"

The harsh statement from behind me startles me badly and I trip over my own feet, pitching forward. Hands that belie the tone of his voice catch me easily. He holds me against himself for a lingering moment, though I tell myself he is only making sure I can stand on my own. The comforting warmth of his body causes me to melt against him. I don't really want to do this all alone. That he is actually here brings tears to my eyes.

His voice growls softly in my ear, "I don't know how you can spend hours in that lab with all of those power tools, without losing a few fingers, as clumsy as you are."

He turns me and tilts my chin up to look at him. I remember our last encounter, and fear what I will see. His statement is completely closed off and unreadable. Am I imagining the tiniest hint of concern in those endlessly black eyes? I'm not sure.

He asks again, a bit more impatiently, "Why are you doing this _here_? Alone?"

"My parents are out of town. I wasn't expecting this to happen for another couple of weeks." A bit irritated at his idiocy, I add sarcastically, "And I didn't exactly feel like explaining the tail."

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Tail? What does she-- It can't be--

"You mean, it's mine?!?" A fierce joy wells up inside of me that I can't suppress. Mine! Mine, not his!

"Baka! You...ASS!" She is unable to strike me because I am still holding her arms. But her blue eyes blaze furiously at me. "Whose else would it be?!?"

I am a bit angry now. "I saw you! That human was over here, and you were hanging all over him. You let him kiss you!"

"Yamucha? Oh, you great idiot. He is only my friend! He's at least been there for me, though, which is more than I can say--"

She breaks off and her fingers twist into the fabric of my shirt. Words fail me. I try, the best that I can with my pride blocking the way, to explain.

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He strokes my back and lets me cling to him. In my ear, he whispers softly. "I don't know why I left. I didn't want to hurt you. But I couldn't...I don't know how...and then I saw you with him, and I thought..."

I think that is the longest sentence I've ever heard from him without an insult. Did he really think I could have gone back to Yamucha? Was he actually jealous?

The tightening eases, and I wrap my arms around his neck. I can't think anymore. The tide of pain robs me of coherent thought. I am just glad he is here.

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I have no idea how much longer this will go on. It seems endless. I watch over her and do all that I can to help -- basically nothing. I can't ease her pain or facilitate the process in any way.

My being here seems to help a little, though. The fear I felt so strongly from her before has lessened considerably.

The sun appears, trails to its zenith, and disappears below the horizon.

She is strong, but each passing hour leaves her a little weaker. I have no experience with these matters and no idea how long this should take. I begin to worry. The child isn't actually real to me yet, but the thought that she could die pains me more than I would have thought possible. When did I start to care so much?

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My world narrows to pain and fathomless ebony eyes. I try to lose myself in them and escape the forces threatening to tear my body apart. In brief moments of lucidity, some part of my mind notes the concern written in his statement, the tenderness in the hand that brushes my forehead. Worried, for me?

Finally, after one last tearing thrust, the pain fades away and I hear the piercing wail of a newborn. Its father, on his knees, is holding the wet, wrinkled child and managing to look both totally in awe and thoroughly disgusted at the mess. I extend my arms and he gladly hands it over. A boy.

Softly, I say, "We have a son." He rises. A noncommittal grunt is the only response. He seems to have reverted back to normal.

I examine the child like every mother since the beginning of time, counting fingers and toes. His eyes are the same vague color as all newborns, and he has very little hair. "He's beautiful..." I manage over the lump in my throat.

His arms cross over his chest. "He's even more hideous than you, all squished up like that. Not to mention totally bald."

I sigh. I don't think Vegeta knows how to handle these tender moments. "Baka. All babies look like this."

After the rest of the process is complete, he helps me get comfortable. I yawn. It seems like I have been up for days.

"Please, take him. I'm so tired..." He steps up, a lingering trace of worry barely visible in his eyes. I place the child in his arms, and the last thing I see before I pass out is him looking for all the world like I just handed him live explosives.

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I don't know how to sort through the feelings running though me at that moment. I can't make any sense of them, so like any other man I pretend they don't exist. She doesn't seem bothered by it.

She hands me the child and closes her eyes. I clean him up as well as I can and wrap him in one of the repulsively cute blankets designed for that purpose. Laying him in the small bed with rails, I sit in a chair and watch her sleep.

She is out cold and as pale as the sheet, but her breathing is deep and even. She doesn't appear to be bleeding to death, or any of the other things I had feared. The child seems to be fine as well. Thankfully, he has taken mercy on my ears and decided to sleep, too.

I get up to leave, thinking I might as well train, since I'm up. My heart really isn't in it at the moment, though, and my head is a tangled jumble of thoughts. I long for the days when my life was simple, my purpose clear.

I must have made some kind of sound, because I hear her whisper my name before I make it to the door.

"Vegeta..."

"What is it?" I am impatient to get out of this room, and away from the confusion.

"Could you..." She gestures sleepily to the space on the bed next to her. "Just for tonight?" Heavy-lidded blue eyes compel me to acquiesce.

"Baka. I have to train," I growl. "I don't have time to lay around. It's morning, in case you haven't noticed."

"Please?" She is drifting off again, and I read her lips more than actually hear the word.

I haven't slept well in more nights than I can count; the nightmares plague me constantly. After being up for a day and a half worrying about her, I am almost as exhausted as she is.

It would feel so good to lie next to her again. I know I will not dream. But...

"Woman. I can't promise you anything."

"I know."

I think she actually does.

I slide under the blanket and pull her back against my chest, being careful not to hurt her. She raises my hand to her cheek and then kisses it. Her hair is silk under my chin and her soft warmth drives the chill from my body. I relax and slip into deep, dreamless slumber.

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End Chapter 7