Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Another Lifetime ❯ More Harm Than Good ( Chapter 5 )

Another Lifetime

 

By Queen Saiyajin

 

queensaiyajin@aol.com

 

Chapter Five

More Harm than Good

 

Trunks and Gohan were still sparring when he returned, and he had to keep from laughing aloud when he saw Gohan's torn and bloody clothing. In all fairness, Gohan was not giving it his best, afraid to use his full power with a three year old, while Trunks seemed out for blood. He couldn't wait to see how a real match between them would turn out when Trunks was grown…

 

A chill of reality ran through his body as it occurred to him that that was something he would never see. He closed his eyes against the emotions that threatened to surface. So be it. At least the boy would be off to a good start, and Vegeta was confident that Gohan would train him well.

 

Though the thought of not being able to train him himself, as he had in that other time, was tearing him apart. He was growing too close to the boy; of that there was no doubt. But this was his only son, his flesh and blood, his legacy…

 

…whose death still haunted him so that thinking of it made it difficult to breath. This was, after all, his only chance to see the boy again, to teach him, to praise him, to love him. It couldn't hurt, could it? Even if it would be for only a brief time…

 

But as the toddler saw him and broke into a wide unabashed grin, then flew into his arms and gave him a spontaneous hug—something he had never, to his regret, taught Trunks that it was acceptable to do—he questioned the wisdom of fostering such a close relationship with the boy. He himself was starved for this opportunity to make up for the wrong he had done his child in his shameful past. It would hurt like hell to leave him behind.

 

What would it do to Trunks? Would he cherish the memory of a father who had loved him for a brief span, or curse him for abandoning him yet again?

 

He was being selfish, he knew. With the boy, and most certainly with Bulma. He had convinced himself last night that he was doing something for her, to make up for the past and the life they never lived together. But the incident today only proved to him that the connection between them was already stronger than it ever should have gotten. He couldn't help himself, thought that was a lame excuse. She was his woman. He knew that now without a doubt. She had mourned his loss once, and giving her a taste of what they could have had together would only make it more painful when he eventually went back to his own time. Why hadn't he ever realized this would happen? Why hadn't Bulma?

 

Dinner was on the table for them when they arrived, and Bulma had cheerily invited Gohan to join them. But she barely looked into Vegeta's eyes, and he knew that she was furious with him. She hadn't said a word to him, and even when he asked how her progress was going in the lab, she responded without looking up from her dinner that she was waiting for an email from her colleague in New York. He didn't press further. He knew her well enough to know that no matter how angry she was with him, she would still work relentlessly to find the cure he'd asked for. He couldn't help but think that it was like their early days together, when he would make passionate love to her at night, only to ignore or insult her in the daylight. Still, she would repair his training drones and attend to his every need, almost as if she knew that he was simply incapable of expressing how he truly felt about her except through their lovemaking. He'd been an utter asshole back then, and it gave him no comfort to realize that he was working to regain his old title.

 

Gohan had sensed the tension that was as thick and oppressive as the gravity on Vegeta-sei, and after inquiring about Vegeta's luck in the mountains, fell silent. Bulma was making it a point to speak only to the baby and Gohan, and only Trunks, totally oblivious to the conflict raging about him, was chattering away excitedly.

 

“Mama, me wanna show you Gawick Gun. Papa said it was good. Din't you, Papa?”

 

Glad that at least his son was talking to him, he was drawn from his reverie to answer, “Excellent, Trunks. And you also beat the pants off of Gohan,” he said, glancing at the older boy in amusement.

 

“I was taking it easy on him,” Gohan protested, though he could see by Vegeta's expression that he was well aware of that.

 

“It reminds me of how your daughter, Pan, defeated your brother Goten in the World Martial Arts tournament. I believe she was four and he was seventeen. The only difference was that he was giving it his best.”

 

Gohan grinned. He loved hearing stories from Vegeta about the wife and child he had had, as well as the little brother who had worshipped him. Now that the Androids had been defeated, he could concentrate on things that had nothing to do with constant battle. It was good to see the renewed hope in his eyes.

 

Bulma said nothing until Trunks continued to jabber about how he wanted to learn a Final Flash. She shook her head, her voice serious as she said, “No, Trunks. I think you've learned enough. You're too little to be concerned with fighting and energy attacks.”

 

Trunks looked at her stricken. “But me wanna play fight with Papa!”

 

Bulma seemed on the verge of tears as she told the boy, “No. You've had enough. And that's final.”

 

Trunks began to cry, and Bulma tried to shut out his pleas as she cleared the table. Gohan excused himself to leave, knowing that there was something going on he definitely did not want to be in the middle of.

 

Vegeta went over to his son, lifting him out of the high chair and holding him on his arm. “Maybe…Mama is right,” he told the boy reluctantly. “Even warriors…have to rest.”

 

Calming the boy finally with a vague promise that he would continue his training soon, he took him in for his bath, where they played `blast the bubbles' until both father and son were calm.

 

 

 

 

Anger was the only thing keeping her from total despair. If she didn't focus on her complete rage over what he was doing to her, she would fall apart, break down crying at his feet and beg him not to leave.

 

She wouldn't do that. The Saiyan prince wasn't the only one with pride.

 

He had shown her new depths to the only relationship in her life that had truly meant something. The passion she had shared with him in what seemed a lifetime ago was more than renewed, enhanced by this new spiritual bond that was unlike anything she had ever imagined possible. He was all he had been, all she had loved desperately, and more. More caring. More loving. More attentive to her, and to their child. He was perfect. He was the Vegeta she had always known he could be.

 

But it had been too good to be true, hadn't it? He'd pushed her away as he had so many times in the past. But this time, the rejection had been far worse. For she'd truly believed that he had changed, and that he could love her as she'd always dreamed.

 

I was just setting myself up for this, wasn't I? she chastised herself harshly. She had known his real reason for coming here. He'd made no indications to the contrary.

 

Or had he? Hadn't he come to her last night? Hadn't he trembled at her touch, and kissed her hungrily only today? Hadn't he said he loved her?

 

“You bastard, Vegeta!” she hissed under her breath as she stood at the sink, crying into the dishes she had meant to wash. “It's not fair,” she wept. “Not fair…”

 

Not to her. And certainly not to Trunks. Her little boy adored him, worshipped him even. In less than two days, his father had become the center of his life. What would it do to him when Vegeta left? He'd been too little last time, and Vegeta had practically ignored him. They'd had no real bond. But now…

 

She shut the water, wiping her eyes and heading towards her bedroom. In the bathroom she heard Trunks giggling wildly as Vegeta played with him in the tub. The sounds that should warm her heart filled her instead with bitterness. Why was he doing this? Why was he making it harder for all of them? Did he think that a few days would make enough memories to last a lifetime? Did he think that was enough?

 

She went into her room, dropped her clothes onto the floor and head for the tub, bathing slowly as if in a trance. All she could think about was the last time she had been in this bathroom with him. The image he'd evoked of the two of them together in this tub was too much to bear. She could still remember the taste of his lips, the sensation of his skin against hers, and the warmth of his thoughts and emotions flowing into hers as if their souls were connected. They were. Or, they had been. He'd withdrawn from her completely, and his words, You are not her…And I didn't come here for this… replayed over and over in her mind, a constant reminder of what a fool she had been to think things could be any different. It had been two years since she'd lost him, and the dull ache in her heart had never gone away. Now, it cut into her with a fresh pain that made it difficult to breathe. This would never subside. This would be with her for the rest of her days.

 

Grabbing a short terrycloth robe and wrapping it around her, she went to the door to glance out into the hallway. The bathroom light was off, and she heard steps coming from Trunks' room. She gasped in surprise as she found herself face to face with an equally stunned Vegeta.

 

Her body burned as he seemed to take her in with his eyes, and once more her anger began to rise at the mixed signals he was constantly giving her.

 

“He's asleep,” he told her simply. “He had some milk after his bath—“

 

“Vegeta, what the fuck do you think you're doing?”

 

The words came out before she could even form them in her mind, but she wasn't sorry. She had no sympathy for him, even though he seemed completely wounded by her outburst. He'd hurt her enough. He deserved it.

 

“I put my son to bed. That's all.” He'd recovered from the hurt, and was responding emotionlessly.

 

“You're going to break his heart, Vegeta!” she cried, her eyes filling with tears. “You can't come in here and be his daddy for a few days and then just disappear! He's grown too attached to you already! You're only going to make this harder on him! Please, just stay away from him! He's just a little boy! I can deal with losing you—I already have for two years—but he won't understand! Please, just stay away before you hurt him any more!”

 

His face had lost its color, and he had no response. She was right, and he knew it. Bulma wasn't sure if she was more angry at him or at herself for breaking down like this when she'd promised herself she wouldn't. But she had to get away from him too, right now, before she lost it completely.

 

He reached up to wipe the tears from her face, but she shook off his hand.

 

“I'm sorry,” he said dejectedly, sounding as if he were about to cry himself. “I truly am.”

 

“So am I,” she said resentfully. “I'm sorry you ever came back.”

 

His eyes opened wide, but he said nothing. She slammed the door in his face before he had a chance.

 

 

 

 

For the first time in thirty years of marriage, Vegeta had no response.

 

It wasn't that he was unaccustomed to his wife screaming at him. She wasn't the harpy that Kakarot's wife was, but Bulma had always been…vocal…about anything that bothered her. Verbal sparring and insult had been part of their relationship since Day One. The normal Saiyan courtship, he'd been told, consisted of physical battles to test each other's strength. Bulma had no fighting power to speak of, so their courtship had consisted of battles of wit and verbal assault. The first time she'd called him a baka, it had been like an act of seduction. The mere fact that she didn't fear him spoke volumes of her courage, and had made him respect the woman he'd thought no more than a silly—albeit gorgeous— girl. Even years after he'd admitted his love, they still engaged in their verbal sparring. It was normal for them. It was intoxicating. Nothing made him want her more than seeing the fire in her blue eyes…

 

But tonight, the fire was an inferno of bitterness and anguish that he had caused. It was fueled by his actions, towards both her and their son. He'd walked into their lives with a singular purpose, totally oblivious to the fact that his mere presence, much less show of affection, would bring them nothing but pain. He'd selfishly indulged his desire to make up for what he had never given them in this time. But in assuaging his guilt, he had created a situation that would ultimately make them suffer more than if he had never come back.

 

Wasn't that what she'd said? I'm sorry you ever came back. Her words rang in his ears with a truth he should have realized all along. She'd gotten over her loss, and gone on to make a life for her son. By bonding with her now, as her Vegeta never had, he had reopened the wound and made it a thousand times worse. He'd given her something that, once taken away, would leave her forever with an emptiness in her soul. He'd seen the agony in her eyes when he had withdrawn from her completely. How much worse it would be when he returned to his own time! He hoped the myths about the Saiyan bond between mates was not true. For if it was, he had inadvertently given her what was tantamount to a slow painful death.

 

And Trunks…She was right. The boy adored him, and would not leave his side. You're going to break his heart, Vegeta! Again her words resounded, and he felt a lump rise up into his throat. What had he done? What had he done?!

 

He'd been staring at her closed door all this time, and now looked into the room across the hall, at the peaceful face of his son in sleep. What have I done to you, my son?! I am so sorry!

 

The air in the house was suddenly suffocating him, as his eyes burned. He ran from the house, taking to the air, wanting to go somewhere, anywhere, to escape this pain. But something within him would not allow him to fly off. To leave them alone, unprotected…

But who will protect them from me? In despair he set down in the gardens, destroyed now and filled with debris, yet pulling at his soul just as surely as the two people in the house. For this was the very garden where he had laid the remains of his son and daughter to rest. It didn't matter that it had been in another time. The dichotomy of his two lives swirled into one, until he wasn't even sure where he was anymore. It didn't matter. His grief was the same in both worlds. He fell to his knees in despair, staring up at the same sky that had looked down upon his children's funeral pyres, the smoke filling his eyes and nose once again. His chest heaved with choked, silent sobs, as grief overwhelmed him completely. For his children. For Bulma. For the Bulma and Trunks whom he would inadvertently cause so much pain, though he had promised himself long ago that he would cherish those he loved and never hurt them again.

 

He closed his eyes against the tears he refused to shed, willing himself control. Bulma had made it clear that he was not to spend any more time with Trunks. The thought of never seeing the boy again filled him with sudden panic, as his grief transformed into indignant rage. How dare she keep him from his son! The boy deserved to know his Saiyan heritage! I am his father! I will train him as I see fit! It is my right, as well as the boy's! But as the image of the toddler filled his mind, and he saw him once again crying at the thought of not training with Papa, the rage he had forced upon himself became hollow and without real substance. It would be so easy to shield himself in his anger, as he had done all his life. To think only of what he, as the Prince of all Saiyans, deserved. But he had learned long ago that there were others that mattered more to him than himself. No matter how much he needed that little boy to fill the void in his heart that Trunks' death had left,  he could not bear the thought of seeing that child cry again, as he would when the time came to leave them…again.

 

He fell back on the grass, his mind searching for the answers his heart could not decipher, until sleep took him into that realm where dreams were all that you wanted and feared…

 

 

 

Bulma choked back her tears, releasing them finally into her pillow, hoping that Trunks was too fast asleep to hear. She needed Vegeta so badly that her entire being seemed to ache with the loss of him. It was like it had been two years ago…but so much worse. She'd never imagined the anguish could be any worse than it had been when he'd died, and yet even with him just meters away she felt as if this time, she would not survive.

 

What was this connection that he had made with her? How was it possible that she could feel even more of a bond with him than she had with the man who had shared her bed and her life for those three years? He was the same man, and yet…more. His thoughts, his emotions, seemed to be entwined with hers in a way that was both beautiful and frightening at once. When Vegeta had died, a part of her had died with him. But somehow she knew that if he left her again, her soul would wither and die as surely as her physical being.

 

She would not survive.

 

It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, to know that her life force and his were somehow connected. She had felt his pain at her words as intensely as if she had kicked herself in the stomach. It had taken all of her will to keep from running after him after she had shut that door in his face. It was taking a monumental effort now just to keep from begging him to come back to her. But she had done the right thing. For her and for Trunks. Neither of them could bear to lose him again. The more time they spent with him, the harder it would be. Nothing would ease her own slow spiral into desperation when he left. But she could spare Trunks. Or at least try to.

 

She regretted her words. She'd hurt him more than he deserved. Oh gods, Vegeta, she thought as she drifted into an exhausted sleep. I'm not sorry you came back…I just can't stand the thought of losing you again…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I'm not sorry you came back, Vegeta…” she seemed to whisper in his mind. ”I just can't stand the thought of losing you again…”

 

“I don't want to leave you…” he admitted, though his heart was heavy with guilt. She fell into his arms and he kissed her gently, as their tears intermingled.

 

Then he heard her voice.

 

“Vegeta…please…don't leave me alone to die…”.

 

He looked in the distance to see Bulma, his Bulma, the fever taking its toll on her frail body. Without hesitation he flew to her, afraid he would not get there in time as the distance between them never seemed to close. Behind him Bulma cried out, begging him not to go, as both women pulled at his heart until he felt he would break in two…

 

“Papa!”

 

He awoke with a start, squinting in the sunlight at the face of his son staring at him with wide blue eyes.

 

“Papa, why you sleep here all night?” the boy asked innocently.

 

Only then did he feel the wetness of the dew-laden grass on his clothes, as he pulled himself up to a sitting position. By the altitude of the sun, he could tell it was already mid-morning. Had he really slept here all night?

 

Just then Bulma came from the house, dressed in jeans and a tank-top that seemed painted on her. He couldn't help but stare, and her cheeks flushed despite her very obvious efforts not to even look at him. “Trunks, come on,” she told the toddler, heading towards her air car.

 

“Aw, Mama, me wanna stay with Papa,” he whined, curling his lower lip into a frown.

 

“Where are you going?” he asked, uneasy at the thought of being alone.

 

“To the University lab in South City,” she replied emotionlessly. “A friend of mine was doing some research into retroviruses, and I wanted him to take a look at my notes.”

 

“Him?” he asked suspiciously. She was doing this on purpose to make him angry, even jealous, and he hated the fact that she was getting the exact results she wanted. “You're not exactly dressed to work.”

 

She ignored him as she came to pick up their son. “Come on, Trunks-kun,” she said tenderly, in a voice reserved only for the baby. “Mama wants you to stay with her today.”

 

“Won't he get in the way?” Vegeta asked irritably.

 

At that Bulma faced him directly. “I took him with me everywhere for the past three years,” she replied blandly, then added with meaning, “And I will again.”

 

Her implication was clear. He would be gone soon, and she was prepared to be a single parent once more. He stared at her coldly. “Fine. You don't want me to train him. But there's no harm in letting me watch him while you're doing your research.” He couldn't believe he was actually asking her to let him babysit. It was something he'd only done only under protest the first time around.

 

“No harm, huh? I guess that's just a matter of opinion,” she replied, her eyes icy blue. You're going to break his heart when you leave, she thought to him boldly, knowing he had asked her not to communicate with him in this way. He could feel the blood drop from his face, and he was sure she knew that the message had come across loud and clear.

 

“All right, then,” he said stepping away from her. “You'd best be on your way.”

 

He could see the hurt in her eyes, though he knew it had been there since he'd first begun to push her away. He didn't want to hurt her. But he had had enough of his own pain. He turned from her and flew into the air, closing his ears against Trunks' cries for him. It was what he would have to do eventually, wasn't it?

 

Somehow, that thought gave him no comfort.

 

 

 

 

 

Bulma glanced at Trunks' sleeping form as they made their way back to what was left of Capsule Corp. in her air car. He'd been a handful today. He'd been protesting and crying for his father from the moment Vegeta had flown away, and it had taken all her strength to keep him from flying after him. The day would come when she wouldn't physically be able to control her own child. It was good that a stern look and a little yelling still went a long way to keep him in check.

 

He'd been a horror at the lab in South City, and it had been hard to concentrate on her work while trying to discreetly warn him that it was not nice to throw balls of energy around in someone else's lab. Thankfully, no one had seen him, but she silently cursed Vegeta for having awakened these powers in him. Wasn't raising a child alone difficult enough, much less a Saiyan child?

 

Yet as she rode home today, she realized that Vegeta had really done nothing wrong in that respect. Her son was half Saiyan, and she'd known that from the moment she'd conceived him. Had her Vegeta lived, he would have taught the boy all these things eventually. But he would have also been there to control his awesome power. What Vegeta was doing now was trying to be in a very short time the father that Trunks would otherwise never have known. She wanted Trunks to know him. But she couldn't bear to think of what it would do to her little boy once Vegeta left again…

 

Of course, if things worked out as her future self had planned…

 

But no. She was bound by her honor and conscience to do all she could to find a cure. Even if it meant never seeing Vegeta again.

 

Her friend Yusuke had been of very little help. As she'd suspected, this retro-virus was nothing like anything that had ever been seen before. Even the vial of Vegeta's blood she had brought as a sample of a patient who had been immune to the virus shed no light on a possible cure. When Saiyan blood was diluted with human blood, the patient was no longer immune. She had surmised that already. That was why Trunks, Bra, and the Son children had died. Only pure Saiyan blood could resist the disease. Her future self had known this already. But she couldn't take the chance that there wasn't something the other Bulma had missed. She couldn't imagine how such grief, as well as disease, would affect her own ability to think clearly.

 

She landed her craft softly near their temporary home, gently unstrapping and lifting a sleeping Trunks from his seat. It was almost dusk, and she decided it best to just carry him into bed. A sense of Vegeta seemed to waft into her consciousness, and she turned to see him in the distance, standing with his arms crossed in the gardens where Trunks had found him this morning. For a moment their eyes met, and she felt her knees grow weak. If he had looked furious she would be used to that. But the utter despair on his face was so overwhelming that she had to look away. As she carried Trunks into the silent house, the grief seemed to follow her, and she wondered for a moment if it were his or her own that she was feeling. She lay Trunks gently in his bed, smiling in spite of her anguish as he snuggled against the pillow, his angelic face so much like his father's in sleep. He was everything to her. He was all that had gotten her through the loss of Vegeta the first time, and she would have to remember that now as the time to lose him again drew near.

 

Of course, things would be different now. Trunks hadn't really known his father, not in the way he did now. He hadn't really felt his absence. Or had he? Was his immediate bond with this Vegeta, who showed such open affection and interest in him, filling a void that they boy had felt all along? And if that were so, what would happen now? She wanted to protect him from pain, but it was already too late. Trunks' cries as Vegeta had flown away had proven that to her this morning. He'd asked about his father at least a dozen times, crying about the fact that he hadn't been able to train with him today, until he'd fallen asleep from pure exhaustion. Was it right to keep them apart for the brief time Vegeta would be here? Or would he hate her someday for keeping him from his only chance to know his father?

 

The doorbell startled her from her thoughts, and her heart jumped. Was it him? No. He would just burst in if he'd wanted to. She ran to the door, unable to hide the disappointment on her face as Gohan stood before her.

 

“Are you okay, Bulma?” the teen asked, with concern.

 

“Not really,” she admitted, knowing it would be pointless to lie. He'd known her since he was four years old, and she couldn't really hide her moods from him. “Come in,” she said, trying to keep herself from peeking out the door to see if Vegeta was still there. She didn't need to anyway. She felt him.

 

“What can I do for you, Gohan?” she asked tiredly as she closed the door and sat down on the couch. “Is your Mom okay? She must be really relieved now that she doesn't have to worry about you fighting the Androids every day.”

 

“Yeah,” he said, sitting across from her. “But you know Mom. She always finds something to worry about.”

 

Bulma smiled slightly at that. Chichi had always been that way, and still babied Gohan as if he were five years old. She wondered if she would do the same when Trunks was older.

 

“Bulma, I'm not here to talk about Mom. And maybe you'll think this is none of my business…” He paused, as if expecting her to scream that it wasn't, and when she didn't, he went on. “I'm really worried about Vegeta.”

 

That alone took her by surprise. Gohan and Vegeta had not exactly been the best of friends, in fact she still remembered the day they'd been wished back from Namek and the battle that had ensued between the Saiyan prince and `Kakarot's brat', as he referred to him. “And why is that?” she asked, feigning disinterest.

 

“I found him out in the Mountains today, blasting the hell out of landscape. I asked if he wanted to spar, and we did for a while. But his heart wasn't in it. He wouldn't admit what was wrong until I asked why he wasn't training Trunks today. His face seemed to turn pale for a minute as if he was really distressed, and then he said, `Why don't you ask his mother?' He got so angry after that, that he used me like a punching bag. I needed a Senzu bean when I got home. Mom freaked out when she saw all the blood and broken bones.”

 

Bulma breathed deeply. “I'm so sorry, Gohan.”

 

The young man grinned, reminding her of Goku when he was enjoying a good sparring session. “Don't be. It was fun. With the Androids gone, I won't get to fight as much. Mom is bugging me about applying to High Schools, and stuff like that.”

 

“You should,” she told him. “You're a great fighter, but the war is over. And you're too smart not to do something with that brain of yours. Hey, maybe you can come work at Capsule Corp…when we open things back up again.”

 

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, his face growing serious again. Bulma could see Goku's love of battle in him, and had a feeling Chichi would have to change her expectations of turning him into a scientist. She remembered the day she had met him, and he had told her he wanted to be an Orthopedist. The four year old had had no idea of what the next nine years of his life would bring. She wondered if his sudden interest in Vegeta came from the need to fill the void left by his own father's death.

 

“You're going to miss him when he goes back too,” she said softly.

 

Gohan nodded. “Won't you? Won't Trunks?”

 

“It doesn't matter,” she said, looking down at her hands. “As soon as I find the cure, he's leaving.”

 

“He won't, Bulma. I see the conflict in him. It's breaking his heart not to be with his son.”

 

She looked up at him, suddenly angry. “And what do you think it's going to do to Trunks? He's going to be heartbroken! That's why he can't spend any more time with him, Gohan.”

 

“Bulma, I know what it's like to lose your Dad,” he reminded her, his own emotions rising. “But don't you think I'd give anything just for one more day with him? If Vegeta leaves, which I don't believe he will, Trunks is already going to be hurt. You can't deny him the only chance in his life to be with his father!”

 

Gohan was only voicing the doubts she had had all day. Was she trying to protect Trunks from more pain—or herself? “His father is dead,” she said. “My Vegeta was killed two years ago. This—man—is not the same person.”

 

“Of course he is!” Gohan protested. “Sure, he's a lot calmer, and nicer, but he's the man Vegeta would have been if he'd lived. He loves you and that little boy. I can see it by the way he looks at you both—“

 

“Stop it, Gohan,” she said, standing up to end the conversation. “It doesn't matter. He wants to go back to his Bulma.”

 

“She's dying, Bulma,” Gohan said, getting up to face her. “And he's lost his children. There's nothing there for him.”

 

“There will be when I find the cure,” she replied blandly.

 

“Bulma, you're a genius. If there was any kind of cure to that virus, you would have found it in two hours flat. Are you any closer now than you were two days ago?”

 

She shook her head. “But I can't stop trying. That's what he wants.”

 

“I don't think he's sure what he wants anymore,” Gohan said with meaning. “All I know is that he's standing out in the gardens watching over you, and he's stubborn enough and pissed off enough to spend the night there.”

 

“He did last night,” she said softly, remembering how Trunks had found him there.

 

“Bulma, I know you'll do your best to find that cure,” Gohan told her. “But in the meantime, don't keep him away from Trunks. Or from you. Even if he does go back—do you want to waste your last chance ever to be with him?”

 

There were tears in her eyes, and she looked away. “No,” she admitted in a whisper.

 

Gohan paused for a long moment, then came to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Bulma, you and Trunks…are like my family. I just want you all to be happy.”

 

She looked up at him. “If he does leave, Gohan…I don't think I can ever be happy again.”

 

Gohan sighed. “Whatever happens. We'll get through it. We always have, haven't we?”

 

She nodded, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “Your dad would be proud of you, Gohan. Taking care of all of us, just like he would.”

 

She stood at the open door after Gohan had flown into the night, finding the nerve to look again towards the gardens where Vegeta still stood. His back was to her now, though she knew he could sense her presence. Why hadn't he moved from that very spot? Why had he spent the night among the overgrown weeds that had once been Momma's garden?

 

Her mind reached out to his, and in a flash she saw it. The funeral pyres. The smoke and ash seemed to fill her nostrils as she gasped in the horror of his memory. This was where it had happened. This was where he had laid their children to rest. The lump in her throat made it impossible to speak, and her eyes filled with tears. Gods, his pain was so intense that it made her stagger and nearly fall. Knowing what had happened was nothing like feeling it through their bond. No wonder he had come here. No wonder. She had taken Trunks away from him, and it was too much to bear losing the boy again. Here, he felt close to them, Trunks and his precious little girl…

 

Suddenly, he turned to her, and she knew that he had felt her press into his mind. His face turned crimson with the embarrassment of the depth of emotion he had inadvertently revealed to her, and before she could speak he took to the sky. “Vegeta!” she cried after him. But he didn't respond. Once more, her sadness for him turned to anger. He wanted so badly to be with his son, but the mere thought of sharing this intimate bond with her made him flee as if for his life. “Damn you, Vegeta!” she called into the sky, her voice breaking the silence. “Damn you!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

He'd felt her reaching out with her mind, and the look on her face told him all. She knew why he was here. She knew the unbearable pain that drew him back to this spot, where the spirits of his dead children seemed to call to him. His time with little Trunks had eased the grief, if only a little. But without that, there was nothing but his memories to cling to.

 

How dare she push into his mind like this, invading his private thoughts and discovering things he would reveal to no one except…his woman. How he missed Bulma! He'd never dared even think of what his life would be like if she were to die before him. He'd never even entertained the possibility. Surely he would die in battle, long before the passage of time took its toll on her frail human body. The reality of the illness that had already claimed their children and threatened to take her away from him as well had forced him to face that eventuality that he had always avoided. And he knew what he would do if she did die.

 

He would die with her.

 

It was the only way. He'd decided that the instant she had told him that she was suffering from the disease. He'd made this trip through time only for her, because she wished it. He would do anything she asked. He always had, sooner or later. He could refuse her nothing. But if and when the time came, nothing would stop him from following her to the Other World.

 

But this other Bulma, that was her and yet not her, filled him with such conflicted emotions that he felt he would explode from within himself. She was Bulma in every sense, and as such he could not help but love and desire her. Yet knowing she was not his Bulma filled him with guilt, as if he were betraying the woman he'd given his heart and soul to so many years ago. What really disturbed him was how quickly they had bonded together. It was not possible to bond with two mates. Yet, he hadn't, had he? And if she was Bulma, then he hated himself for causing her so much more anguish than she had already suffered.

 

“AAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” His rage cried out in a burst of Super Saiyan power. But he wasn't even sure whom his fury was directed towards. Himself for betraying his woman? His woman for sending him here? This younger version of her for capturing his heart and spirit as if she were the woman he had spent the last thirty years with? Or the gods, for ripping his world to shreds, destroying the only real contentment and peace he had ever known? His patience was as frazzled as his nerves. He had had enough! Tomorrow he would press the woman to find the cure at once, or tell him once and for all that it couldn't be done. And then he would go back to Bulma, his Bulma, and they would end their lives as they had spent them for three decades—together.

 

For tonight, he would go back to his garden, fall asleep thinking of his brave young son and his beautiful little girl, who awaited him on the other side. The gods willing, he would visit them in his dreams.