Disclaimer: TO (xy)P ^SH/(I) + B/A + ò D_O - eS(N_o^t )!/[oWn(DBZ)] = Toryiama does, so I am making > 0 dollars on this story.

Notes: You didn't really think I was going to end it like that did you?

Normally I use this space to warn you about all the negative things that happen in this story, but right now I want to devote it to all the positives, to thank all of those that have put their time, energy and their words to encourage, inspire and comfort me when I needed it the most. As such, I want to dedicate this story to two very special people. To Adimra, both of our stories brought us together, allowing two crazy Canucks and rabid V/B shippers to actually meet face to face and to become friends, even over thousands of kilometres and three time zones. The most wonderful person, so encouraging, hilarious, an excellent writer and completely evil, I'm so proud that I was the first other person to post on your site, to become part of something that has grown into one of the best V/B sites on the web through your tireless efforts and great love of a good story. The second and equally important note of appreciate goes out to Lisalu, a tower of talent that has made me gape in awe at her ability more times than I could count. Your support and speculations helped to shape the second half of this story into what it has become, given me the insight into these characters that made sure I never strayed from the original vision, keeping them honest and real. The depth of your talent is matched only by that of your great knowledge, personal kindness and dedication to your craft and I thank you so much, as both a writer, reader and friend. Special thanks also must go to the original writer of this story and the woman who gave me my start, always with a kind word and encouragement when I was low, and gave me permission to take her one shot and run with it. To EOC, none of this would have been possible without you, and I'm only proud that I could add to your creative vision. There are many others I would like to thank but I figure that I'll stop as most of you have just skipped this and went straight to the story.

"Super Saiyajin." The word was whispered in quiet awe and abject reverence throughout the crowded bridge, every soldier through the ship had known of the battle and everyone had watched like children mesmerised by the sight. And at the moment, when Vegita shattered through a millennium year old myth and a plateau of strength no other being in the universe dared cross, every operational scouter on the ship short-circuited and every Saiyajin fell to their knees. Some watched the spectacle, some lowered their heads, compelled by superstition born of the mystic stories of the coming of the Super Saiyajin, but all were silent, filled with pride that they could bear witness to such a day, well almost everyone.

Kakarott looked out with tired eyes at the five humans, this day had been a long one and the events of the past few hours more trying than anything he could imagine. It was not a time of triumph or racial pride for them, but of the deepest mourning; their eyes full of grief as they watched the only home they had ever known be blasted away before their eyes. Everything was gone for them, they alone had survived amongst the millions that did not, they were all that remained of their whole race and for that as well, they wept. They had not almost made it that far, ChiChi had told him, guards were there to threaten them as soon as their pods had landed; she had almost bashed their heads in for the fright they gave her three other companions. The thought of his little Amazon taking such charge, facing against a whole platoon of guards with no fear at all brought a small smile to his face, like a rock in a storm she was holding herself firm, acting as an anchor for the others of her adopted group. Even now she was still stoic and poised, hiding all of the crushing weight that threatened to make her crack. With all of that outer strength, he gladly took her hand when she had reached out in search of his and brought her into his embrace to keep her steady. He was there for her now, as much as she would let him, but when they were away from all the prying eyes, he knew she would let it out, and he would be there for her again. Each of them seemed to have a shoulder to comfort them, or a reason to be strong, the maroon haired girl and Thak offering silent support for each other as she hugged the last member of their tiny band who had collapsed into near hysterics at the sight of the annihilation, as if a part of her very soul had been lost. Yet, remembering the girl and the compassion that existed between the two, maybe he could understand, the complex relationships these humans formed with the life around them, nothing like the Saiyajins, one race in mourning for their dead while the other celebrate their revenge. To lose the only home they had ever known, much like he had, as he heard the various shouts and murmured whispers amongst his fellow Saiyajins; Vegita had avenged their people, and the death of their sacred planet. Odd, those would not have been his words to describe it, for all that his comrades were in a wondrous rage, he could feel nothing but slight ease; the life that he most loathed was dead and the fate that would had awaited his little Amazon was spared. It still did not mean that everything would change but the root of it all, the hierarchical system had lost its centre; the King was dead, long live the King, no matter where he might be.

Raising his head from the trio on the floor, his eyes took in the last of the humans, her small form pressed flush against the cold tempered glass of the main bridge porthole with her dim eyes cast out into space, oblivious to everything but void beyond the glass. As soon as they had stabilised from the shunkan idou leap, she ripped herself from his grip and ran to the window, her eyes trained on the small dead world, and Kakarott firmly believed if she had possessed the strength she would have clawed her way through titanium to get to him. Every eye was trained on the battle of the great titans, but Kakarott could sense the slight interest in Bulma, the odd and sometimes lustful glares, and the smell of someone that some of them, particularly a large bald one among them would recognise. He saw the looks that some of the Elites had given to the woman and he when they had arrived, as if by magic, upon the bridge. The shock that such weakling creatures as the humans had actually escaped in the pods must have been damning, but that he personally had shown care enough to save one of their numbers might add fuel to a potential fire. Nappa had stared strangely Bulma, with a glare that was not his usual rage or confusion. What would happen when he learns that the symbol of Saiyajin superior had taken such a weakling as a bed mate, and the consequences of such an act, if he hadn't guessed already? Even with the death of his planet, his human and Vegita's would not be safe, especially with the tiny ki in her womb.

Giving her the distance she craved though, he watched her varied reactions from the reflection cast against the glass, her face shifting from fear to awe as the distant satellite began to glow gold with the Prince's ki. Her eyes brightened when he reached that point, as if deep down she knew what had happened, what Vegita had done and what it meant for the Saiyajins and all of them. Even that tiny peace was short lived as her eyes grew cold and fearful again, sensing danger approaching, and then that glorious golden light, the power that followed from an invincible warrior faded into nothing and everything went insane.

"Get a transport out there now, search everything, we cannot lose Vegita-Ou, the Super Saiyajin cannot die." Nappa voice was fairly screaming the command, the soldiers that were once in awe now scrambled desperately to save the god born before their eyes. Even he began to shake with apprehension, he could feel nothing of the power that had burned through everything but a moment ago, his own heart racing with fear. No, the Prince could not have died, he could not leave his people, his woman and son, and him for the grave. Feeling a slight tightening around his hand, he looked down and saw the face of his own woman, giving him a small smile as she squeezed his hand, returning the comfort that he had given to her.

"Thank you." He whispered to her and she squeezed again, something in her eyes giving him hope; and spanning out with his sense once more, he searched through the debris again.

~~~~~

"Mai'ghey mi, Bulma." No, Vegita; you can't be gone, you can't be dead, Bulma's mind screamed out, the link that had been forged on that strange and beautiful night vibrated once more as his deep, calm voice echoed through her mind, and then, it died. Mentally she screamed out, pleading, hoping against hope that that voice would fill her head again. He couldn't be dead, a spirit like that could not die so easily, she could only wish, she joked with herself, but she knew the truth. The second after the Moon had exploded it came into her mind, the peace that existed in his voice, like he wished to settle accounts and put wrongs to right, put a chill down her spine; he would not give up, not just like that. It was just a joke he was playing, another game or challenge that was always active between them, like the time he called her a coward; oh Fates she couldn't feel him. He wouldn't do this to her, he had said he would protect her, that if nothing else the curséd bond made him commit at least that much of himself, he could not leave her now when her life was gone, when she had nothing left but him.

She had lost it all, the world that she had built for herself crumbling under the cruel influence of fate again, to find that happiness she had thought only existed in stories to be ripped away so painfully; what did she do to deserve such torment? And holding back the waves of sorrow that threatened to drown her, she realised that it did not get easier with time, if nothing else the loss was harder, the price higher, the shock greater, and the pain that would come would be greater still. Already she was feeling it coming, the numbness slowly receding as the small part of him that was hers alone began to go cold and silent and she wanted to weep like a child for the loss. She had not wept in ten years, the only other time when Dazu died and Vegita had given her that ultimatum just that morning and she had climbed a mountain of grief since then, and had lived almost a whole life time in a few weeks, a few hours. Greatest of all was that in all of her years of standing strong by herself, she now had a side to lean against, arms to hold her, and while she was still the same, she knew that she needed those arms, and that strength. She needed his challenge, his voice, his sexual nature and his biting wit, his hardness, tenderness, that other part of herself. The lethargic state that she had wrapped herself in since Gaia's destruction was cast aside and suddenly she was naked, she wounds ripped open for all to see. There was activity all around her, shouts and cries, but she couldn't concentrate on them, she had to escape her pain, she had to run. With stamina she didn't realise she possessed she bolted from the bridge and ran, needed to feel her lungs burn, her heart pound and her brain throb; creating a physical pain to take her away the hurt inside. He sacrificed himself, she wailed, he did it all for her and the last words she had spoken to him were spoken out of anger, biding him farewell, if only she knew it would be forever; and still she blindly ran on.

Bare metal walls, sliding doors and series of portholes past by her vision, through so many corridors she had lost count but she suddenly realised that her path was not so aimless and it had a direction and she was helpless to do anything but follow it. Not even pausing to wonder where she was, she burst through the last door at the end of the last corridor and fell to her knees, oh Fates, his smell was everywhere. Gasping madly for breath, she closed her eyes and took it all in, his smell, his essence was everywhere, and her loss was compounded greater by it; the ache in her from the bond causing her mind to veer off wildly. Raising herself last on shaking feet, she walked to the porthole and looked out, watching entranced at the stones that floating in the eternal sea of nothingness. He sacrificed himself, the thought whirled over and over in her head, each time growing louder while she searched the debris for any sign of him; she had to know the truth. Tied for eternity, she remembered he had said that night, and now she understood how potent the bond really was, and her throat constricted when she saw his glove floating in space. Closing her eyes, she knew her fate now, to find the landing dock and jump out and find him, the existence they had not known in life finally realised in death. She didn't even register any movement when the door once more slide open and the smell of blood mixed with the existing air filled with his musk. It was only when a hand brushed her shoulder and a warm breath caressed her cheek that she turned from the porthole, and the flood gate opened.

"Vegita." Where once stood her noble arrogant Prince, stood a bloodied mess, bare of his armour, gloves and most of his battle suit, but he was alive, and was with her. The chains and shackles that bound them together tightened, just a little stronger between them and he was there again, that little part warm and there and complete. He was different now, still the man she knew, but so much older, wiser, lost and yet found, and he nearly sagged against her, shaking as violently as she herself was.

"I thought, Freeza's attack." He murmured to her but he closed his mouth and pushed something into her hands, the brush of metal and general shape telling her instantly what it was.

"That silly breathing apparatus you forced me to put in my armour, I guess it was good for something after all." She cried then, the weight of everything lost and recovered on the day coming out at once, and he held her to himself, knowing for the first time in his own life what it meant, for almost every loss that she suffered he had a similar. They were equals now, in a greater sense than physically or mentally, but equals in their grief, a king without a kingdom and a Mistress without a house, like two orphans cast out into the universe with only the other to find strength. Smiling down at her, he let the moisture build up in his eyes as he let it all come over him. It would never be in him, that tear would never be shed but it was there, and it was enough.