Dragon Ball Z 1. Prologue

August 12, 2002: I'm currently in the process of rewriting/reposting/reformatting/reviving this story. If you've read this before I suggest giving up on the endeavor entirely. It's going to be chaos around here for a while. I'm combining some chapters and splitting others up and still probably deleting others. I doubt you'd be able to pick up where you left off so easy, and for that I apologize, but this really must be done. I had given up on this story (as evident in the lack of updates in over six months) but decided to give it one more go. So the next week or so will probably be spent reworking all that's been written, and then after that (hopefully) we'll begin to see some new stuff. Thanks for your patience. ~ Jane

Prologue: (Version 2.0)

Bulma gasped as two muscular arms snaked around her waist from behind and she felt a head burrow into the crook of her shoulder. Relaxing only marginally after recognizing the touch of her sometimes-husband, she cursed his saiyan stealth under her breath.

"Remind me to buy you a bell. You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days if you keep-"

Vegeta cut off her familiar complaint by growling low in his throat before turning her in his arms to face him. Her blue eyes widened as she caught sight of his dark gaze and all thoughts of the dinner she had been preparing flew out of her head. He didn't waste time claiming her lips and letting his hands re-familiarize her curves. 

She knew she shouldn't let him get away with it. 

She knew she should be yelling at him for disappearing for so long, for not telling her he was leaving or where he was going. 

She knew she should be angry at him. 

She knew she should insist on getting answers from him _this time_. 

She knew she should make sure there would never be a _next time_. 

She knew whatever she did, she couldn't let him get away with it. 

But knowing and feeling were two separate things, and what she felt was that it had been far too long since he held her in his arms and made her feel like a woman. What she felt was that no matter how much it hurt her every time he left, she loved him too much to not open her arms to him when he returned. She would probably never be able to understand him. She knew she'd never be able to control him. But she could love him, and that _had_ to be enough.

So forgetting all the things _she knew,_ she let herself enjoy the rare moment.

"Ma! The foods burning!"

Her son's voice broke through the moment and she pulled away from his father. Taking a deep breath, and stepping far enough away from Vegeta to be able to regain all her faculties, it took her a moment before Trunks words sunk in. Flying into action, she put out the fire and tried unsuccessfully to salvage any of the food, eventually throwing it in the trash. Occupied with the food, she missed the subtle exchange taking place between the two men in her life. 

Vegeta regarded his offspring with a scrutinizing gaze. He folded his arms and leaned against the counter as he tried to determine what exactly the dark glint in the young boys eyes meant. Obviously he had inherited some of his father's darker nature, but why take satisfaction out of pulling his parents apart? Looking back, it almost seemed like the boy had been purposefully sabotaging the couples rare moments alone the past year. The only question was what his motive was. 

The boy for his part, regarded his father with an equal intensity. Despite being the first time he had seen him in weeks, he had nothing to say to the man that spawned him.

  
"Trunks," Bulma let out a defeated sigh as she pulled the two from their thoughts, "why don't you call over and see if you can spend the night with Goten. I don't have the energy to start all over with dinner."   
  
"Cool!" He raced upstairs to grab some stuff before hugging his mother. "Goten just learned a new technique he's going to show me!" he told her with childlike glee. It only lasted a minute though, to her disappointment, before his saiyan nature reappeared with a familiar smirk, "of course a weakling like him needs whatever advantage he can get. I promise not to hurt him...too much." he said in lieu of good bye to his father. His smile dimmed slightly at the sight of his parents so close, remembering his objective before he was distracted. Vegita nodded his head in response.  
  
"Well, get on with you. Don't worry," he added, "I'll make sure to take good care of your mother." This time Bulma caught the pointed look directed at Trunks as Vegita wrapped an arm around her waist. She rolled her eyes at the two of them, scared once more at how similar they were. She couldn't blame Trunks for his competitive nature, after all, looking at his parents it must have been genetic, but still, did they have to turn everything into some immature pissing contest? Nothing was safe, from how much they could eat, to training, to even competing for her attention. She supposed boys would be boys. With a scowl, her son disappeared and Bulma tugged Vegita's hand as she led him to the bedroom. As frustrating as they could be, she couldn't imagine her life without them.


	2. *

August 13, 2002 (barely): Ok, this actually used to be three or so chapters but I combined them into this. This may still undergo some work, but I just wanted to get it posted for now. So somewhere along the lines of rewriting this I decided to complete change the point of the story. Bwahaha. Before it was light, random, and kind of pointless. Now I actually have meaning for the story, not that you'll be able to tell until later…

Chapter One:

"They were kissing? Eeeeew!" Goten shrieked and made a face. He was dancing around Trunks, too much energy bouncing around inside of his small body to stand still. Trunks, possessing more control then his younger friend, was sitting on a large boulder, his only movement the absent fiddling with a shoelace.  
  
"That's not the point." Trunks told Goten, freezing him with a stare. "She spends all her time with him now. He isn't even nice to her. Why can't he just go back to where ever he was before? We were doing fine without him."  
  
"I don't know." Goten resumed his fidgeting, shifting from one foot to the other. "Maybe he wants to protect her."  
  
"Do you think I don't? Or do you just not think I'm capable of protecting my own mother?" He asked a little too softly. His hand stilled it's movement for the briefest moments before returning to idly play with the frayed end of his shoelace. His eyes found Goten's, a lazy almost sleepy gaze pinning him still. The message was clear, even if cloaked under an air of disinterest. Cold swept in around the two causing goosebumps to break out on Goten's skin, despite the sun's hot glare.   
  
Goten gulped audibly, recalling the one and only time he had seen this side of his friend before. Then he hadn't understood what that bored look meant, or the cold rage it hid. Now, being faced with that deceptive tone and sleepy stare, he understood.   
  
Nothing in those eyes reflected the boy he had known all his life, in them he only saw raw power barely contained by the flesh of its vessel.  
  
He laughed nervously, his young mind somehow grasping the dangerous and volatile nature of the moment but not knowing what to do.

"No, of course that's not what I meant!" He tried to think of something else to diffuse the situation and absently scratched the back of his neck. Already though, the temperature seemed to warm and his friends eyes focused once more, the indifference replaced with pain, as he stood up and took to the skies.   
  
Because, Goten _was_ right. 

He couldn't protect his mother, not from the very thing that hurt her the most.

  
  


***

  
  
Why was his dad back? 

His mother always told him he was just like his father, but he had a hard time believing he shared anything other then genetics with him. They were family only in training and his mother. He wasn't sure what it meant that the only time they got along was when they were beating each other up but he doubted it was a sign of a healthy relationship. When he was younger and so much more naive, and believed the world turned only at his fathers command, his father used to tell him stories of Vegita-sei. He would explain what being a saiyan meant, and about honor and the warriors code. He'd share stories of his childhood, or the mockery that was made of it, and his dreams of rebuilding the great saiyan empire. He hadn't had any idea at the time that every word that came out of his dear father's mouth was bull.

His father knew _nothing_ of honor.

He thought you could find honor in a fair fight, a worthy opponent, dying in battle…

But what about the honor of keeping your promises? Maybe his father hadn't said the words to his mother, but spoken or not, he made her a promise. He promised her he would stand by her. He promised he would protect her. He promised he would never hurt her. 

He broke all of them the first time he left.  
  
He didn't say where he was going or when he was coming back, just disappeared under the cover of darkness, like some thief stealing away in the night. 

If he lived to be a thousand, Trunks doubted he'd ever forget that day. He'd never forget how strong his mother was, as she fought to keep the tears out of her eyes so he wouldn't see her cry. And he'd never forget the hate that filled his heart as he heard her muffled sobbing after she thought he had gone to bed. He'd never forget, because that was the day all his misguided love and adoration and delusions of his father were shattered. That was the day he figured out that his father wasn't some sort of super-hero, that despite being a saiyan, he was still just a man. And not a very good one at that.

His father eventually returned, but the hurt didn't fade. Maybe if his father apologized, or acknowledged the pain he had caused some part of their relationship could have been salvaged, but a curt nod of greeting was the only indication Vegeta gave his son that he had even left in the first place. The wound only festered and grew as he watched his mother welcome him back into their life, and even when after awhile Trunks resumed his training with his 'father' he never kept the memory of that day far from his mind. 

It wasn't that long before he left again. 

The past few years he couldn't count how many times he found his mother in tears and his father gone, and how many times he let the rage burn within him as he watched the man that had helped give him life, walk back into it. 

It was a hard lesson to learn to not love your father. 

But the pains of betrayal stung too fierce not to guard his heart and keep his emotional distance.

***

II

***

Trunks wandered through Capsule Corporation in search of his mother. After finding her office vacant, he made his way to their private labs in the chance that she had just lost track of time working on some invention, which was the case more often then not. He found the main lab empty though, and turned to go as he caught sight of a light. He followed it down a hallway into his grandfather's lab. 

The room was cluttered with objects, half-started inventions and blue prints everywhere. He even spied a couple cat toys and laughed to himself. Few people were allowed in his grandfather's lab, and yet he let his cat have free reign over the entire floor. Trunk's original mission was soon forgotten as he waded through the gadgets strewn about. 

A glint of metal caught his eye and he smiled in recognition. It was one of his mother's inventions. His brow wrinkled as he tried to figure out why would it be here. He came to the conclusion that his grandfather must be making some modifications to it. Now that he took a closer look, it _did_ have a lot more buttons and seemed a bit bulkier. He strapped the watch-like apparatus to his wrist. One of the buttons _should_ activate the personal movie player, but the question was which one. His mother's sense of adventure happened to be one of the many traits he had inherited, and decided to ignore the warning bell signaling in his head. Instead he pushed one rather large looking button and an antenna popped out of a compartment.   
  
"Wicked!" His exclamation echoed throughout the lab. He figured the antennae must be for television and flipped a random switch on the side. The watch began to hum, filling the silent lab with the eerie noise. 

Something wasn't right.

The antenna began swirling around and he had an odd sensation of being there and not there at the same time. Too late he remembered his mother's warning to never touch anything he found in the labs. If he survived this, she was going to kill him.  


  
  
He felt the air get knocked out of him as something punched him in the stomach. He tried to scream out as pain threatened to knock him unconscious but gasped instead. He felt his insides tear apart, felt his body being ripped from the reality it inhabited. The world shifted and with the pain, melted away, leaving him feeling all of a sudden scared, lost, and very very alone. 

He could have been standing in the middle of the desert, or in a phone booth, the colorless void felt vast and confining at the same time. It was almost as if he was in the middle of the ocean, with the water pressing in against him on all sides, but with no clue how far it truly spanned. 

He could hear wind rushing, roaring, screaming by his ears, yet felt none on his body. 

He had the distinct feeling he was outside of time. The moment could have been seconds or years and it would have made no difference. 

However long it was, it was over and light seeped into the alien environment until it was too bright for him to see anything. He shielded his eyes and blinked, trying to get them to readjust to the change. They stubbornly held on to the fuzziness, and he was left blinded and feeling vulnerable as they were as useless as a newborn babe's. 

He took a hesitant step, trying to gain any clues to his location. The ground was cold and grimy, he thought it was stone but he couldn't be sure. By the light that was currently blinding him, he figured he had to be outdoors. A light breeze picked up a piece of paper and brushed it past his leg. He assumed it was litter, and combined with the grimy ground and slight metallic taste to the air led him to the conclusion that he was probably in the city… just which city? He took another step before making a somewhat obvious observation. One that under any other circumstances, he should have made first. Except for the watch-that-wasn't-a-watch that was still strapped to his wrist, he was naked.

He tried to calm himself down by doing some simple breathing exercises. His vision was improving enough already that he could make out vague shapes. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to it. A brownish blurry figure was shuffling past him. He reached out an arm to it, trying to make contact.

"Where am I?" His voice betrayed his fears and quivered slightly.   
  
"You're in Sector 7."  
  
Trunks stood confused for a moment as the blob left him. Spotting another, he stopped it. 

"Where am I?"  
  
"Middle of the slums, kid."  
  
"But I..." Trunks knew he wasn't asking the right question. Well, considering he was naked and practically blind, he figured he shouldn't worry about people thinking he was asking strange questions. "Uh, what planet am I on?"  
  
"Vegita-sei, home to the 'mighty sayins'." The thing chuckled dryly. But his sarcasm was lost on the kid and moved on.   
  
Trunks was in shock. 

Vegita-sei was destroyed. 

His hand found the gadget on his opposite wrist and he ran his fingers across it.   
  
"Grandpa, what have you made?"

***

III

***

Goku frowned and nudged Bulma, worried. He had already been awake for a few hours and she still wouldn't even stir. She needed rest, especially after the past months, but he needed her too. She was the only one left he could trust. When their world was destroyed, he was ready to give up. It was Bulma that convinced him he was needed, that he was the only one strong enough to save what was left.   
  
The saiyan's purge wasn't quite as successful as they thought, leaving a few hundred of the billions that once inhabited the planet. Those survivors banded together and formed a resistance. They had managed to keep alive for a few months, but their time was almost up. The saiyan's had been auctioning off the planet's resources to the highest bidder, leaving a handful of guards to keep order as their machines raped the once bountiful land. It was in one of the guards pods that he and Bulma escaped, promising to find help to take back the earth.   
  
But they hadn't figured on the differences in the aliens technology. The length of time spent in such a small enclosed space would drive any sane person mad, which is why simultaneously with take off, a gas is emitted to knock out the passenger(s) until they reach their destination. Only that was the one feature Bulma hadn't counted on when they made their plan. Before she could override the auto-destination programmed into the pod, they both lost consciousness. He had awoke on this seemingly uninhabited area of Vegita-sei minutes after their landing, but she had yet to learn of their predicament.   
  
She finally awoke near dusk, Goku had started a fire to ward off the chill. He quickly informed her of what he had found out, but it wasn't much as he had been hesitant to wander far and leave her unguarded. The gas had taken it's toll on Bulma, and though awake she was still weak. Though harmless to a saiyan like Goku, it was too strong for her anatomy and she didn't think she could be exposed to it again so soon. Reluctantly they decided that he would leave to resume their original mission while she stayed and recuperated. He had wanted to stay with her until she was at full health, but she fought him, telling him it would only endanger her more. By herself, she could slip by unnoticed, not enough ki to attract attention. She had some food in a capsule that she could live on long enough to find an independent source and other necessities. 

  
Time wasn't on their side, and so though reluctantly, Goku left after the first night. 

Now all she had to do was stay alive...


	3. *

__

August 15, 2002: (Anyone else feel like Elvis dies all over again each year? I think I'm going to be wear black tomorrow...) So, hey, people are actually still reading this. Yea! I actually wasn't going to work on it yet since I was feeling lazy, but then I was like "if they were nice enough to review, I'll be nice enough to stick to some sort of a schedule with these updates" (and that is in no way blackmail for the rest of the chappies!). Um, normally I reread my chapters a couple times before posting them but it's late and I'm tired so just ignore all the errors, would ya? Thanks.

Chapter 2:

Trunks knew three things for certain.

If he wanted any chance for survival he needed to stay focused, he needed to find shelter, and he needed to find food.

Actually, make that four things, because he also knew he wouldn't be able to accomplish the latter two in his current condition. 

Stamping down the instinct to flee for shelter, he lowered his body onto the cool stone floor to wait. One hand searched the ground before finding a small pebble. He rolled it in his hand, trying to get a feel for it before setting it down in front of him. His eyes tried to focus in on the spot he knew it to be, but he couldn't make anything out of his muddied vision. He pulled his knees to his chest and linked his arms together around them, never moving his eyes from the unseen rock.

Too many thoughts were jumbling in his head. He wanted to explore the foreign land he found himself in. He wanted to talk to people and find out more about it. But most of all, Trunks wanted clothes. 

He didn't move though, something telling him that it all could wait -had to wait until his vision returned. This place was as safe as any other for him now, and he had to hope there was a reason to where he had been dropped.

He felt more then saw people -things, really, pass him by. Some scurried by, low and close to the ground. Others shuffled by slowly. None though, stopped to talk him, or even acknowledged his presence. It was at once reassuring and saddening. No one would be bothering him, or pushing for answers, but what kind of place was it that no one stopped to help a blind, naked child? 

He was jolted back to awareness at a sharp bite on one of his toes. He lashed out hitting a furry body as he scrambled to his feet. He was disgusted to see the large rat stare at him with beady eyes and relieved that his vision had returned. It was still fuzzy around the edges, but he was sure that would soon fade too. The sky was considerably darker, the bright blinding light replaced by the more faint glow of a moon. He must have dozed off, but it was beyond him how in light of the situation. 

He quickly took stock of his surroundings. His first assumption had been on target, as he appeared to be on the edge of a city. The architecture was alien as were the building materials, but it was close enough to home to give him some assurance. 

The buildings were all the same color of grey slate, but something was decidedly off about them. It took him a minute to figure out what was so wrong with the picture. None of the buildings had any windows. It was weird seeing the smooth unbroken planes of stone and yet it somehow fit with the overall impression of the place. The whole area made a statement of order and precision. Illuminated by the moon, the effect was as powerful as it was sterile. 

No, the city, though nothing like the ones he was used to, was a small comfort. It was the initial 'edge' that he had noticed, that terrified him. Because all the neat and tidy buildings in their perfect rows stretched as far as he could see in one direction, and in the other... they didn't. 

No warning, no sense of closure, it just abruptly turned from buildings to....

It was hard to express what exactly lay after the buildings were cut off, other then simply -_nothing_-. It was like a desert, only more vast and more empty then he'd ever seen. The ground was flat with not so much as a small rock to disturb the barren picture. It almost looked like a still lake of grey dirt. But venturing closer, he realized it wasn't dirt at all. It was ashes.

Trunks turned around and ran. 

****

II

****

Bulma raised a hand to wipe the sweat from her brow and received a smack for it. 

Sure, she just needed to lay low for a while, piece of cake. Just rest and nobody would bother her. Simple, right? 

She reminded herself to smack Goku the next time she saw him. 

If she ever saw him again. 

She couldn't let herself think like that. 

She _would_ find away out of this. She had to. There was no one else left. Hell, there wasn't a person on this entire planet that even cared if she lived or died.

It was up to her now.

She'd been in worse situations before. Being arrested was a walk in the park for her. She snorted to herself and ignored the warning glares she received from the big burly giants on each side of her.

At least they didn't know who she really was. Boy, wouldn't they be surprised to learn they had a leader of the earth's resistance in their midst. She caused more then enough of her share of trouble and she was sure the barbarians would love to make an example out of her. But no, they had no clue who she really was. 

They just thought she was the head of one of Vegeta-sei's own terrorist groups. 

Thank heavens for small blessings. 

She snorted again at the thought and tensed herself for the following blow. Her eyes stung but she refused to shed any tears. Now certainly wasn't the time or place.

It was her own fault, she knew without a doubt. If she had only minded her business she'd probably still be there, safe and waiting for Goku. But how could she have? When she discovered the rogue band of refugees, she felt like she had found what she had been looking for, even if she hadn't realized she was looking. It was comprised mainly of aliens from all different species and galaxies who had their homes destroyed by saiyans and others that simply were outraged at the injustices. They had bravely banded together to fight, even though they knew it meant death and worse. 

How could she have not joined?

How could she have not offered all she had to help? 

Were they so different from her? They were fighting the same enemy, for the same reasons. 

Though often a thorn in the side of the mighty saiyan empire, they were nothing _but a thorn_ and not deemed important enough to expend the minimal energy it would take to find and destroy them. It had been pure luck that they had captured the leader earlier. While the saiyans hadn't realized whom they held, the group had been lost without strong leadership. They hadn't known what to do or where to go. 

That was where Bulma had come in.

She was a natural leader and quickly brought order back. She obviously couldn't stay for long, but what harm would it do it help get back their leader before he was found out? After all, could she have merely sat and waited for Goku in good conscience, and left these people here without aid? 

So she organized a quick strike. They didn't stand a chance fighting, so their strategy was in and out. Well, they were to go in and out. She was to create a diversion. She figured she could make a big enough fuss that the main mission would go by unnoticed. And it worked. It really _really_ worked. She rigged up some crude bombs with supplies they had found and she had a pretty good time of messing with the saiyans. All in all, it should have been a victory. 

The non-victory part came when she got caught. At least she was confident that the others had escaped with their leader. They could really do some good in this world, but she knew she'd never see them again. Maybe there were some there who'd want to come save her, but the fact of the matter was that they had their leader now, and they didn't need her. It would be stupid to risk any of their lives coming to get her, especially since she'd be guarded a hell of a lot closer then their leader had been. 

Bulma sighed, as her mind drifted to darker thoughts. She idly wondered what they were planning to do to her. She knew it involved death, of that she was certain. But she pondered the methods. Torture would most likely be involved. They'd try to drag out anything she knew about the group, and they'd probably enjoy the process. They thought she was a big shot, so they might even go for a public execution. She was quite the popular one, wasn't she? It made her all tingly inside just thinking of it. 

As fun as guessing at her method of execution was though, she really did have more important things to focus on, like escaping for one.

***

III

***

Trunks flew high above the city below him. He wasn't sure where he was going, he just knew he had to get as far away from that unnatural wasteland as he could. He wasn't sure what about it terrified him so, but he wanted to put some distance between himself and it before he stopped. 

Somehow, when his father had talked about Vegeta-sei, this wasn't what he pictured. The whole land seemed so cold, so lifeless. Maybe he could see the connection between it and his father. 

He touched down when he felt he had traveled far enough. Everything looked the same everywhere so it was hardly a change of scenery, but at least that awful sight was far behind him. First on his list of needs was clothing, but he was at a loss of where to find it. It wasn't as if any of the buildings had neon signs proclaiming them stores. The streets were deserted too, save for a large woman one way and two equally large men the other. Taking his chances with the woman -weren't they supposed to be the gentler sex?- he headed over to her.

"Please Ma'am, do you know where I could find some clothes?" He gave her the best puppy dog eyes he could muster under the conditions.

"Buzz off, brat," the woman said without slowing down. 

So much for that idea. 

The men were approaching him now but he doubted he'd have any better luck with them and prepared to leave.

"Hey kid, wait!"

He was torn with indecision for a moment. His hesitation made the choice for him as it allowed the men time to get to him.

"Aren't you a little old to be wandering around naked? Where are your folks?" The older of the two asked him.

"I don't have any."

"Any what? Clothes or folks?" The other asked with a laugh.

"Both." Trunks shifted his weight before staring the man straight in the eyes. He wasn't going to feel ashamed at circumstances beyond his control.

"Well come on, then. We can't leave you out here like this can we? I got a son not much older then you, I'm sure you can fit into some of his."

"Picking up strays again, Selry? Really." The man laughed and ribbed the other. 

"I can't have him walking around naked, now can I? What would the neighbors think?" Both laughed at that one. "Come home with me, I can give you a pair of clothes and hot meal but that's it."

Trunks swallowed his pride, a difficult thing for a son of Vegeta to do, and nodded his head. He couldn't let pride get in the way of survival.

He followed the two men, trying to remain inconspicuous lest the one reconsider his offer of clothes and food. Now that he had those two items taken care of, he let his mind wander to the rest of his dilemma. He wasn't stupid enough just to push random buttons on the machine and hope for the best. He learned his lesson the first time. The only one who would be able to help him was his grandfather. Actually, he reasoned, it probably wouldn't be difficult at all for his grandfather to send him back. The only real problem was how to get to him. It'd be hard enough searching a planet for him, but it made matters a bit more complicated when the planet he'd need to search was across the galaxy. Actually, he wasn't even sure where Earth was in relation to Vegeta-sei.

The two men separated and Selry -that was what the man had called him- motioned for Trunks to follow him. He walked straight up to one of the seamless buildings and slapped his hand to the wall. Trunks panicked for a moment, wondering if he had just put his life in the hands of madman, when a door swung out of the wall. He followed the man through it, seeing now the edge around it. It had looked so similar and tight that it gave the impression of continuity. The craftsmanship really was something.

The man led him through a maze in the inside of the building before stopping at a point in the corridor. Now that Trunks knew the trick, he could pick out the lines of the door before it swung open to them.

"Truth be told, I'd enjoy some company tonight. It hasn't been the same around here since my boys left." The man continued to talk to him as he disappeared into another room before reemerging with some clothes. Trunks gratefully accepted the clothes and slipped on the baggy pants and loose T-shirt. Trunks didn't see anything wrong with being naked, but it was nice to have the familiar weight of cloth on him again. "I'm Selry, by the way." 

"Trunks."

"You're not from around here, are you?" 

"Not...really." 

The two made conversation as Selry fixed dinner, or rather Selry made conversation and Trunks gave minimal responses. He wasn't doing it to be rude; his mind was just elsewhere. Like on how he could get a ship to take him to Earth for one. He needed Grandpa's help if he was ever going to get home, but his grandfather wasn't even on the same planet as him! Actually... Trunks had to amend his statement, Grandpa may be on Earth, but technically he _did_ have a grandfather on Vegeta-sei. Maybe it was time to pay a visit to the palace he's heard so much about.


	4. 

Chapter Two:

"Hey Mr. King Vegeta, guess what? I'm your half-breed grandson from another dimension and I need your help getting home. Oh, and I can go Super Saiyan. Whee!"

The king looked decidedly unimpressed to Trunks, but he wasn't quite sure. It was hard to read the expression of the tree that was currently serving as a stand-in while Trunks rehearsed his first meeting with the man.

Maybe bluntness wasn't the best approach. In fact, it might not be wise to reveal exactly *who* he was before he could be sure that the king would help him. 

Trunks lashed out with one leg, connecting solidly with the tree/king. He felt a small degree of satisfaction as he watched it shatter on impact. But the mood was short lived as he returned to the problem at hand. Strategy had never been his thing and he didn't see how he could plan anything with the limited knowledge he had. In one quick motion he took to the sky and headed toward the palace. He supposed he'd just have to improvise.

****

II

****

She knew her window of time to escape was closing as the team of six palace guards removed her from her cell, though she was perversely pleased at the number of burly men they believed were needed to escort her through the palace. She was filthy, bruised and exhausted but she refused to give them the satisfaction of giving up. 

"So... where we going boys?" She asked flippantly but received no answer. "Too difficult to try to talk and walk at the same time? I forgot how hard multi-tasking was for those with such limited intellect." Not one of the six even spared her a glance. "Silly me, I was using multi-syllabic words again. Let me rephrase that into something you can understand-"

But she was cut off as the closest one on her left backhanded her across the mouth. "Shut up, your voice is grating on my last nerve." She stumbled slightly but raised her shackled hands to wipe the blood from her split lip. A sudden icy wind blew her hair back. 

"That was a mistake." 

She looked over towards the doorway and saw a young boy casually leaning against one wall. His tone was level and she could tell he was putting up a calm front but his hand betrayed him, shaking, as he pushed his lilac hair back. 

Trunks willed himself to calm down. He was barely suppressing the urgent need his body felt to go Super Saiyan to protect his Mom. His whole body trembled in rage seeing her dirty and abused. He would payback every blow she was dealt thrice-fold...but first he needed to get her out safely. He hadn't detected any ki around them high enough to be a problem to him, but there was so many that he couldn't risk one getting a lucky shot at his Mom. 

"The only mistake around here will be yours if you don't get out of our way," one of the guards said as he gave Bulma a shove forward, "we don't have time for this, just keep going." 

Something in side Trunks snapped as he saw the meaty hand on his mothers thin shoulder. 

Bulma heard a distinct popping noise around her. The smell of death suddenly assaulted her senses and she turned away from the blood splattered on the walls and ceilings. The... thing that killed all those guards took a step forward as she took one back. 

"I- I just.." A sob escaped its mouth. The voice so small and scared evaporated any fear and she knelt down to let the child run into her arms. 

It was the first time Trunks had ever killed like that. Just so effortlessly, without thought. It wasn't even a battle, they were just alive and then not. The few other times he had been on the brink of that icy rage, something had always pulled him back. He sobbed into his Mother's shoulders, not caring at the moment that he was showing weakness. 

"What the?" A new voice sounded and Trunks spun around to see a large Saiyan looking at the room. He spied the boy and advanced on him. "How- you little brat! It's treason to kill the King's men!" 

Bulma placed herself between the man and the boy. "Don't you dare hurt him!" she warned, "he's just a child!" 

She turned her head and closed her eyes at the sight of his raised hand. She'd gladly take a hit to divert his attention from the little boy behind her. She reached around behind her to reassure him but found only empty air. Opening her eyes as she heard a loud thud, the larger man landed unceremoniously in a heap against the far wall. Trunks stood before him, arms crossed and chin high. 

"You're pathetic. My father would kill you just for being so weak!" 

Nappa looked up at the powerful brat in front of him. Something about the way he stood was so familiar to him, but it wasn't until a look in the others eyes warned him of what was coming that he placed it. His last thought before darkness consumed him was of the miniature version of his prince. 

"Come on, we have to get out of here." Trunks tugged her hand towards the doorway. He could sense more on the way to investigate what just happened. 

They were coming in all directions. 

He panicked for a second before noticing an open window and ran towards it. 

"Oh no, I'm sorry, but there are doors for a reason-" Bulma began when she noticed his intent. 

"We don't have time, they're coming!" Wide eyes and a wavering voice begged her to trust him. 

Somehow, something inside her told her she was all he had, and nodded her head in consent. There was no way she would leave him alone without any protection, even after the powerful displays she witnessed earlier. He wrapped his arms around her and they took off, his flight dipping slightly as he tried to adjust her weight, before picking up speed and streaking away from the palace. 

They touched down in a small clearing in the woods. The trees would give them some protection and there was plenty of game around. He tried to think of what his father would do first. Find food? Scout the area? Build shelter? 

He had to be brave, he had to be strong. 

"You must be hungry," he heard his mother's voice talking to him, "don't worry, I know I have food in one of these capsules, just sit down." She pushed his unmoving body down, "You've had a big day, haven't you? I'll make a fire and set up a tent and then we can eat dinner and you can tell me all about yourself, ok?" She busied herself setting up camp. 

"I really want to thank you for saving me back there. You're such a strong little boy, and so brave," she unknowingly soothed away his fears, "I'm Bulma, what's your name?" 

"Trunks." 

"Hi Trunks, can you tell me how old you are?" She hadn't been able to place his age at all. He seemed so much older when he was rescuing her, more like a man in a child's body, but when she held him in her arms, she realized how young he was. 

"I'm 7," he drew a line in the dirt with his foot. 

"Seven?" She breathed, trying to wrap her mind around this new piece of information. How could a child of only seven knock out six adult saiyans in their prime? 

"I'll be 8 in a couple months!" he told her defiantly, daring her to not believe him. She threw him a weak smile. 

"I'm 18," she threw him another grin, "but I'll be 19 in 23 more days." Trunks looked at her more closely after her words, the dirt that covered her face couldn't hide the marks of the stress she must have been through. Her features though still beautiful, were more hardened, but her body was young, so much younger then his mothers. It was hard to reconcile the memory of his mother to this women in front of him, he might have mistaken them for two completely different people if it weren't for her trademark hair and fire that burned within her eyes. 

"Trunks, where are your parents?" she asked softly, fearing she already knew the answer. He looked so small and alone. She just wanted to hold him and tell him everything would be all right, but she didn't know how true that was. 

"They're...they're in a different dimension." Her heart broke a little more, even if she had anticipated the answer. 

"When- When did they pass?" She placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"They didn't." His head shot up to meet her questioning gaze, "I did. Earlier today." 

"What?" Maybe it wasn't what she had expected... 

"I don't know, I was there and then I was here." 

"Maybe you'd better start at the beginning, Trunks." He sighed. 

"I don't know. I was at home, looking for my mom when I found this," he gestured to the bulky watch on his left wrist, "in my Grandfather's lab. I thought it was a personal holographic movie player so I put it on to see what it had programmed on it, and the next thing I know I ended up here. I know I shouldn't have touched it. I'm not supposed to touch anything in the labs but I thought I knew what it was!" He defended his actions but when he noticed no disapproval in her face, he continued. "My home is on Earth, but I know it has to be more then just a transporter because Vegita-sei doesn't even exist anymore where I'm from. It was blown up when my father was only my age. Almost all the Saiyans died, except for a few that were off world at the time. Eventually, my dad ended up on Earth and met my mom and they had me." 

"So your mom was an earthling? You're only half-saiyan?" 

He nodded his head. "That's why I'm so much more powerful then a normal Saiyan would be at my age." 

"And a lot nicer too." She smiled at him. "I, for one, am thankful for your human side. If you hadn't saved me back there..." But she shook her head, not wanting to worry the young boy that seemed so attached to her, "I guess I'm just lucky you came along." She finished more brightly. 

"But why were you there? Why are you even on this planet?" 

"In this dimension, it's Earth that is the one in trouble. I escaped with a friend when it was purged, but enough people survived that we're trying to find some help to take back the planet. Through a slight miscalculation I ended up here and got caught up in an entirely different fight. I guess we both ended up here as victims of chance. But since we're both here, we can look after each other. How does that sound?"

"Pretty good, actually." He smiled. "I went to the palace looking for someone else but I'm really happy I found you."

"Believe me, you're no happier then I am. Remember, you saved me." Something about the boys manners seemed a bit odd though, and she tried to identify the thought tickling the back of her mind. "Trunks, did you know me in your dimension?"

"Yes," he answered evenly and willed her to recognize him, to somehow figure it out. 

The weird feeling she had gotten when she first saw him intensified, and she was sure there was still something he hadn't told her. "How?"

"You're my mother."

"Oh," was all she could manage as she fought to not faint. He was her son? This strange, brave little boy was hers? Her eyes softened as she watched him wait to see how she would respond. She could see beneath his calm front the fear that held him silent, afraid she was going to reject him. She pulled him into a hug, completely taken back as the trickle of maternal instincts that had started when she first saw him look so vulnerable turned into a torrent, rushing over her. Then she held him back at arms length so she could look over him again. 

"Of course I am! I should of seen it from the start," he looked at her in surprise and wonder. "Who else could have possibly had such a handsome and strong young boy!" He smiled and ducked his head, slightly embarrassed as she unknowingly echoed words he had often heard from the other her. "But wait," He could see her eyes working through another problem. "You said you were half-saiyan. How could that be? No matter what dimension it is, I'm sure I'd never let one of those stupid, big, brutes touch me." she was quick to make amends, "Oh no offense to whoever your dad is, I'm sure he's a wonderful guy it's just that-" 

"No, you're right, he's not a nice guy. I don't know why you," he stopped himself, "the other you that is, liked him in the first place." 

"I still don't see how I could..." She let the sentence trail off, "What is he like. Tell me about him." 

"I don't know too much about Dad, he's never really around, and when he is all we do is train." She heard the bitterness in his voice and knew that there was more to the story then he told her. "I know he's really proud, and stubborn. He cares about our heritage, he taught me what it was to be a saiyan, he taught me about honor." He tried to think of what else he knew about him. "He's so strong, I used to think he was the strongest in the world! Even now...I'm not so sure he isn't," she listened carefully as his voice lost its edge. He seemed awfully proud of someone who 'wasn't a nice guy'. She wondered what happened to cause him to hate anyone, nevertheless his father, and at such a young age. "He never shows weakness, and he's so determined. He demands so much of himself, and his family. He's smart too, not smart like my mom," he paused, "like you, but he knows so many strategies, his mind is always going, calculating what his next move should be. He doesn't believe in doing anything without a reason. Every movement has a purpose, every word, a point." 

"Doesn't sound like such a bad guy to me." 

"He's not really, I guess, it's just..." 

"You said he's never around, where does he go?" Trunks eyes narrowed at her question and she knew she was on target. He sent a stray rock flying through the trees.

"I wouldn't know, I suppose telling his family where he goes doesn't seem necessary to him. It's always irregular, at least I haven't figured any kind of pattern out of it. He just leaves in the night and we won't hear for him for a couple months before he just shows up one morning, like nothing ever happened. But I don't care. I don't care if he goes or stays, I don't care about him." His voice was hardened but her heart broke for the little boy who didn't know his father's love. She felt it enough growing up herself, she knew now how much her dad did care for her, but he was so absentminded and driven by his own need to create bigger and better things. He had always just assumed she knew how much he cared. A child needs more then assumptions. 

"It doesn't sound like you hate your father Trunks," she pulled his resisting body to her side and draped an arm around his shoulders. He tried to shrug off her comfort but she pulled him closer. "It sounds like he hurt you, and it sounds like he doesn't even know it. You need to talk to him about it." She searched for the right words to explain, "Some people, some people just don't know how to love others, or to show that they love them. Your father is hurting people unintentionally by not being able to show he cares, and now you seem to be following his footsteps. I know saiyans have some messed up ideas about weakness, and god knows what having one for a father has already done to you, but caring for people doesn't make you weak. When you feel for someone, it can be great, but it can also hurt. It takes a stronger person to accept the hurt and live through it. You're only taking the easy way off by blocking out emotions." 

She watched him mull over her words in his head. Deciding a change of subject was in order, she asked him to tell her more about his home. 

"So do you have many friends back home?" 

"Friends? I don't need friends," he caught her disapproving look, "I suppose, if you wanted to stretch the term, I have a friend named Goten. He's a year younger then me, and half-saiyan too. He's always so happy and he never stands still. His father died before he was born though, so no one ever really taught him control. We fight a lot, and teach each other new moves. One time, he was over my house and we went down into the labs and-" 

Trunks recounted various stories of their adventures and Bulma laughed with him, wishing she could keep him in this mood forever. 

As their fire began to die down though, so did their moods. Neither wanted to let go of this night. Trunks never had so much time with his mother alone, there was always work or people around demanding her attention. Why couldn't he just stay in this world? Someone had to protect her and he could be with her all the time! He'd never have to share her again! Bulma was having somewhat similar thoughts, she didn't know how she was going to let go of the boy in her arms. He was so strong and handsome, he had her stubbornness but also a serious side. She wanted to stay with him and watch him become the man she caught glimpses of when he spoke. But she was more realistic. She still had enough to do with the resistance, and a war was not the place for a child, even one as strong as him. 

"Trunks, have you figured out how that works yet?" she interrupted the silence and pointed to his armband. 

"No, I just pressed this button and then flicked this switch and I was here." 

"Maybe, I can figure out how it works. If my father is the one that created it, I might be able to get you home. I've had quite a few years to learn the way he thinks- though I doubt it's possible for anyone to ever really understand it. I might need some tools though and time. I don't want you to try anything with it until I'm fully sure it can get you back safely." 

"I don't want to go back. I want to stay here." 

"I wish you could stay too, Trunks, but it's too dangerous here. You could get hurt."

"But it's dangerous for you here too! At least if I stay I can protect you." 

"This isn't your world. You need to be where you belong. You have a family that would miss you." He thought about his proud father and busy mother. "And who would keep Goten out of trouble?" His one real friend's face flashed into his mind. "Besides, with your father gone, who would look out for your mother?" The thought of anything happening to his Mom quickly decided it for him. 

"I know your right. You usually are." He grumbled, "But I won't leave you here unprotected." 

"Trunks, I'll be fine." He gave her a pointed look reminding her of how fine she was doing before he got here. 

"No, you need me here. So if I'm going back to my home, we just need to make sure you have a Trunks here to protect you!" Bulma frowned at his logic and tried to follow. 

"What are you saying?"

"It's simple. We need to find Dad."


End file.
