Papercut: The Face Within

By: Cabalistic

Part One: Nightmares

Chapter I

Bulma looked at the city that lay wrecked and completely destroyed at her feet. Some buildings in the city were not completely knocked down, the ones on the outer core but they were much too wrecked to be restored at any rate. Otherwise, the city itself was rubble, right down to crumbs at her feet. It was as though the city were a slice of bread that someone reached over and crumbled into dust.

The saiyan's siege over Chickyuu lasted four years. The aliens had come and swept the entire prospering planet away, leaving behind only a few scrabbling survivors. She sighed and clasped a finger over her necklace: a black spiraling hook hanging on a thread. Unfortunately, she too was one of the Earth's final survivors. The time period of a year already passed since they left on their flying pods back to their homeplanet, Vegetasei. But the people of Earth were still very, very afraid.

Memories flickered through her mind as she looked at the city. Troublesome memories that she had thought to have erased long ago, pressing each haunting moment deep into her mind so that she could forget.

Bulma bent down and picked up a worn rag doll the wind had carried at her feet. Whose childhood toy was this? Perhaps some innocent young girl that died in the arms of her protective mother as the saiyans sent a final flash of power to carry their lives away. Maybe the child was still alive, living in cold hard fear of their cruel reality today. She numbly felt over the button eyes and the rag clothes. Then she let go, watching the limp doll tumble helplessly in the wind.

Goku, one of her childhood friends, came up to her, hiking up the mound that she stood on, surveying the remains of the city. Although he was related by blood to one of the saiyans, he was sent to earth as a child and forgotten everything. So he thought himself an earthling for many years until they had arrived four years ago. Every time Bulma attempted to close her eyes and remember the innocent 16-year old she was four years ago, her mind drew to a blank. There was no memory of that time, only suffering, destruction and pain.

Goku carried a boy in his arms, a young boy, barely older than a few months. Lavender hair, blue eyes, just like she was when she was younger. Now her hair had brightened to blue and her sapphire eyes were still a mixture of green and blue, the colors of the sea. The young boy's eyes were closed, but when they were open they only carried the death gaze of his father.

"Trunks got lost," Goku informed Bulma, the mother of her child. She looked coldly at the child that lay in the crook of his remaining arm. The memory of how he was born into the world brought only pain to her. Goku looked at the wreckage of the city, regret in his eyes as he whispered, "If only I could kill them." Bulma leaned over and touched his arm, a mere stump poking from his orange sleeve he flinched slightly from the pain that was still embedded there. "You tried, Goku." She spoke, trembling.

They all were wounded from the saiyan's attack. Not only had Goku lost his arm, but also his first-born, Gohan, was killed brutally, his head ending up on their doorstep. His wife, Chi Chi, went blank as a page and hadn't spoken a word since she had discovered the head severed from her beloved son's body. They later had another son born named Goten, a little younger than Trunks. Nobody paid any attention to Goten though in the household, as though he was only there to fill Gohan's place. At the very least, she thought, you had a son that you were planning to have. She took hold of her baby and held him tight.

"Let's go back," Goku pleaded softly. "I hate looking at the cities." Bulma silently agreed, all it did was remind her how rich and blind she was four years ago. How she thought that her life was perfect and nobody could do anything about it. All it took was three aliens and she found herself poor, utterly stripped of the person she was and struggling to survive.

Bulma's father, the smartest man in the world was captured, just to be killed for his defiance. At the news of the saiyan's arrival, Bulma's mother took the remaining money and split, without her daughter. Her own boyfriend, Yamcha, had gone with the others in an attempt to kill the saiyans. Only Goku returned.

Bulma was the remaining piece of her family alive in flesh but in her head she was as dead as her father was.

Goku noticed his best friend wasn't moving so he gently pressed her arm downward and she walked like a lost soul, following him blankly, leaving the ruins of the city behind.

In her arms, she carried a freak; a mix of two species, saiyan and human. The child born of intellect and of royalty rested in her arms, asleep, only to be known in the future as the Son of the Prince.

Vegeta stood on the balcony of the palace, breathing in the heavy air. The air of his homeplanet he was more accustomed to, the heavy, denser heat of his planet made him more comfortable than the light, airy Chickyuu. He frowned, balancing the wineglass in his hand. With expertise, he threw it in the air and caught it. He smirked, none of it spilled on the floor. The red wine was almost impossible to wash of the floor and if he dropped it the glass would have been sorely missed as well since it was a family heirloom.

He was Prince Vegeta XIII, infamously known for killing far too many to count and wiping off species from the threshold of existence with a flick of his wrist. His hair arched in a flame. Even for a saiyan, he was considered powerful for his age of 22 years and exceeded many of his elders. His main goal of life had been power, to obtain the type of power that shook fear into many people's hearts. Women were nothing to him, despite the fact that they swooned at the sight of him and many lusted for him. Riches meant little to him. It was only power, raw pure power, that he coveted.

That is—until he met Bulma.

He remembered no pleasures back on Chickyuu. Other than watching the fear spread like a disease on a person's face and feeling the power of bloodlust take over him. He also remembered that the Chickyuu girls were nothing like saiyans so that when he captured them, they died of fright or attempted to kill themselves. Hopeless bitches. There was only one Chickyuian girl that captured his full attention while he was there.

Her name was Bulma. She was the daughter of the scientist they captured for information. Of course, the old man was killed like the rest when he defied the power of the saiyans but the girl was beautiful beyond compare—even a saiyan woman at her prime. She was hotheaded and stubborn like him and every second she fought for her freedom, despite the consequences. He enjoyed that and now was regretting the fact that she got away.

Nappa and Raditz weren't as picky as he was when it came to girls and brought a whole shipload of captives to prove it. They were probably out somewhere, drunk again, down at one of the places where there were women to entertain the savage desires of saiyan men.

When they had returned to Vegetasei, they were greeted and hailed as heroes. That was only what was expected of course. They had returned after conquering much of the South Quadrant in the name of the saiyans. Chickyuu just so happened to be on the way home. They wouldn't have even stopped if Nappa didn't insist on getting out of the pods to take a piss.

Now, when everything settled down, he recalled that woman he captured. Vegetasei had yet again become boring.

Perhaps one day, he could return to that tiny little planet where the heat made him itch unbearably. Just to get another glimpse of the woman. He frowned, swirling the glass around in the cup. If he waited too long, the woman might die from no way of survival or grief itself.

Vegeta smiled slowly with anticipation. No, this woman was a fighter; there was no way that Bulma would give way to death. He was sure of it.

Bulma sat at the Sons' table. The silence seemed to eat away the food more than the humans devouring it. She poked at the food, no longer hungry unlike her son. Trunks ate all of his baby food already and was sitting there quietly, fixing his mother with the cold, unsettling gaze that reminded her only of his father. She looked away. Her first-born should have been cute-faced with chubby cheeks and an innocent smile; instead of this child had the face of an adult, hard faced with a scowl. He had a tail, but she had it removed at his birth, wanting no memory of his father.

She wondered what Trunks might have looked like if Yamcha was the father. Immediately she brushed the thought away before the memories came back.

Goten looked more of a replica of his father than of his dead brother. He sat there, wailing loudly as Goku tried to comfort him. Chi Chi sat, staring blank-faced at the plate in front of her. Her eyes were on the empty seat in front of her, where Gohan sat when he was alive for dinner. Goten was too young to take his brother's place because of the baby seat, but the chair made the entire universe empty to Chi Chi.

Bulma absent-mindedly ran her fingers through Trunks' hair. Lavender, more on the purple side than blue, his hair was thick and glossy like a girl's. She scowled. Must have been his father's trait. Goku saw her twisted expression and must have guessed what she thought about because he put a comforting hand on her elbow and smiled warmly at her.

She blankly looked at him and tried to smile but his face was like a mirror of concern, so her smile must have been ghastly. "We'll get through it," He said quietly. "I promise you, Bulma, we'll make it."

Bulma's eyes flickered. Would they? They were two of the sole survivors on earth, the only ones left to fight for it. The saiyans were gone now, but they still remained.

Bulma nodded her head and said softly, "I know." Looking at her childhood friend beside her, she recalled the youth he had once been, that bright-eyed, smiling innocent boy. She smiled at the memory. Was it possible? Goku might have become a monster just like the ones that had invaded, and yet, he had saved her life countless times and now she was sitting here at the same table as him.

She unbuckled Trunks from his baby chair and lifted him into her arms, cradling the baby that silently glared at her. "Despite who his father is or how he came to be, he's my son, Goku. I'll raise him to be good. To protect earth." She smled at Goku. "Like you." Despite his wary eyes, Goku grinned broadly. She tilted her head down to the scowling baby and smiled, genuinely, making her beautiful face glow radiantly. Trunks looked up at his mother and garbled excitedly, as though the child understood that his mother had just accepted him.

"I'll raise him to be good," she vowed, cooing down at her child.

8 years later

Trunks yelled when the water hit his body. The water was beyond freezing, as it always were up in the north but to the boy it seemed like the water froze over every night only to be colder in the morning. His body had broken the translucent silence that covered over the water like veil.

Close behind, Goten jumped in after him, screaming with pain at the icy water. He bounded out of the water, yelping, throwing the towel over him again. Teeth chattering, he protested against Trunks' taunting.

Bulma watched them from the porch, wearing a thick parka against the winds with a worn smile on her face. Time had slipped by her easily but her face showed no sign of it, only seemingly to make her more beautiful. Now at the age of 28, she had intended to enjoy the way of life in survivals hard grip. Earth had undergone a drastic climate change in the past few years, its surface freezing over.

Even Goku had changed. He trained, twice as hard every day, in case of the treacherous saiyans returning. Despite these changes, he remained the same in mostly every other way, cheerfully optimistic and protective of his family. He also accepted Bulma as a sister and his broken family swelled to include her and her son. But he also said she had changed as well. He claimed she was undergoing 'ers', "smarter, wiser, older, prettier, and better". She could see his hunched body in the distance, dragging a large tree over his shoulder for more firewood for that night's fireplace to keep their house warm. She grinned, despite her aching cheeks.

They had taken precautions for the future and what it might bring. For example, Goku taught her more about the world of 'chi' and even taught her how to fly—a little. It came easy for Bulma, perhaps a little too easy—and that scared her. Goku had seen this too and he was alarmed. Her lessons had ceased. Bulma didn't hold it against Goku, he knew what he was doing.

While time had made no evidence on Bulma, time had affected Chi Chi dramatically. Her face became lined with age at her age of 33 and her hair had already started to lighten into white. She was still the living corpse she was eight years ago, blankly looking at everything through her frosted-glass window. Often Bulma would find her staring out the window, murmuring something inaudible to herself. In time, Bulma and Goku had to force food down her throat in order for her to live. Her eyes became dull and her lips were constantly sealed tight against any talking. If she was displeased with whatever Bulma did, she kept it to herself now.

They lived off of whatever vegetation they could scratch off the ground and whatever animal Goku could track down. Trunks and Goten had already experienced their first hunting trips. She closed her eyes and pictured the hides of a rabbit and a young doe hanging above their fireplace.

Of course, they had to live through things that the first people of earth must have experienced. Their food wouldn't grow, the animals sometimes traveled too far that they had to move after it, and they had to make their own clothing. Even water became a problem. Trunks and Goten went out to the lake to chip out a large chunk of ice for Bulma to put next to a fire and melt for water.

"We're still alive," she whispered carefully, gently running her fingers down the wood of the capsule house. "We survived. We are going to make it." She smiled, wistfully, wishing she still had the heart of her stolen childhood to join her son in his game of water-tag.

The eight years that had passed in Vegetasei were almost equivalent to eight Chickyuu years. The prince was now wrapped up in wealthy living but he never forgot the Chickyuu woman. Most of the time, he found himself asking him if she was still alive and surviving on Chickyuu.

Of course, in the course of eight years, his father had betrothed his son to a beautiful saiyan woman, Kiryae. Dark and cunning, she came from a long lineage of esteemed first rated saiyans. She was considered the strongest candidate for Queen, the most saiyan of all saiyan women. Yet underneath it all, she was vain, and superficial. She considered fighting beneath her, but in reality, she was horrifyingly weak. He found himself more disgusted by her than fascinated.

Stange. Every time he looked at the saiyan women, he found himself putting them in contrast to her.

He shook his head with a scowl. These days, he seemed to think of little else. He had several missions to occupy his mind with. In the span of eight years, he had already undertaken a number of different sieges on distant planets, all of which were victorious. But none of them were satisfactory. Whenever he returned to his home planet, he couldn't wait to leave again. At least on another planet, he could drown himself in his bloodlust and take out his frustration on the poor inhabitants there.

In short, the prince of all saiyans was bored out of his skull.

Vegeta sighed. It was probably already too late. The woman was probably dead. She might have withstood a few months but time would overwhelm her and she would have died. Mourning for his silent loss, he closed his eyes, attempting to retrieve his mental image of her.

A servant entered the room. She bowed, low onto the floor, her nose almost touching the tiles. Pretty thing, but nowhere near his taste. "My lord, the scouters are sending for you. They found something with utmost importance." Vegeta raised an eyebrow and said, "Very well. You are excused." She bowed again, with the same nose-touching-floor gesture and left as quickly as she came.

Vegeta rose and exited the room, refilling his glass wine cup on the way out. His thoughts returned to her. She had been pretty for her young age and completely transformed into an elegant young woman over the course of four years. But it wasn't just her beauty, he reminded himself. No, it was when that defiance lit her eyes and scowl bared with her teeth when he was most enthralled. It was her refusal to surrender, her ferocity, her spirit to fight.

He entered the room, thinking so hard that he started when a scouter saiyan came up to him. "Sir, something has been discovered on Chickyuu." Vegeta, interested, said, "What is it?" The scouter replied, "A lifeform, sir." Vegeta laughed. "So there are a few survivors, like those pathetic earthlings will never rise to pose a threat."

The elderly scouter shook his head. Obviously he had experience on his side. Vegeta also discovered that he found this man to be extremely ugly, causing him to develop a lower regard for the man. "It as a lifeform sir," he said slowly, as if he were tasting his words, "that carries your blood." Vegeta, who was taking a drink from his cup, crushed it to pieces and spewed it all over the wall in shock. The scouter looked at the wall now with utter distaste.

"My blood?!" He hissed. His mind flashed back to the woman. Would she have... no; it was impossible. No weak Chickyuian woman could give birth to a saiyan, especially the son of the prince. "Whose other blood does it carry?" He growled. The scouter noticed the tone of the prince's voice and he lowered his voice to say, "A Chickyuu woman. The lifeform is very young, so young that it is possible that it had entered existence only a few years ago." He bowed his head respectfully.

Vegeta cursed, leaving the room. He paced down the hallway, agitated and tense. It was very crucial of what he did next. A saiyan royalty, born of his flesh and blood, the next prince of Vegetasei, was in the hands of a Chickyuu survivor. The woman could raise him to become a saiyan of hate and revenge that would rise in power or it could be Kakarot all over again, innocent and stupid. He scowled; just thinking of how his first-born son could be like that 3rd rated saiyan.

He frowned. The only way to redeem his bloodline was to go to Chickyuu again and kidnap it from the mother. Otherwise it would be brought up as a country bumpkin. Which meant that he would have to leave immediately. He smirked at his next thought.

Which meant he had another chance of seeing her again.

Trunks stood beside his mother as she mended his jacket for the fifth time that week. He still had that adult look to his face that made him seem of fifteen years instead of eight. Occasionally, his eyes still crumpled to give off that scowl that reminded her of his father, and only then would she turn away from her first-born. But he had an endearing heart that cherished and loved easily with a tendency towards heroics; not unlike his father-figure Goku.

"Mom," he said aloud, keeping his eyes on the sewing needle that went up and down. His voice was well aged as well, giving him the voice of an older child. The voice itself, she knew inwardly as a secret fear, would someday transform into alikeness of his father and would destroy her completely. "Mom," he said again. "What was Dad like?"

These were the questions she hated – the ones where he would ask about his father and she would be forced to lie to her first-born again. She took a deep breath and an image jetted into the atmosphere.

Hands gripped her as her mouth opened in a coarse scream. Clothing ripped and pain swallowed her whole. Vaguely in a world away from her own, she heard Trunks repeat the question but the past shoved her back into her memories like shoving her facedown in black water. His lips met hers in a fierce struggle, his low laughter filling the air. She wrestled out of his grasp but he only grew stronger. Every time his skin brushed against hers, she felt his skin burn hers, as though he were a living flame. The night's air was heavy in the heat and pitch black. She felt his hands clawing at her, roughly grabbing her until she was sore with bruises. She couldn't see him through the night because there was no moon. The darkness seemed to go on forever, stretching on through her memories. His voice filled her head. "You're mine." His low chuckles in the darkness echoed in her head and she broke free of the memory when Trunks spoke. "Mom!" He yelled loudly, gripping her forearm. His blue eyes met hers in a concerned gaze.

"It scares me when you do that, Mom." He retorted. "You space out and your face starts twisting up real bad."

Bulma made her face fall into a warm smile when all she wanted to do was scream and curl into a ball. These flashbacks had continuously haunted her successfully for the past few years. She couldn't believe that her son, this talented, sweet boy, was the outcome of the horrible memory. She touched her forehead, her ears still ringing with the noise. "I'm sorry, Trunks. Your mom's very tired right now."

Trunks nodded and said, shrugging, "I forgot what I was going to say anyway." He grinned and told hold of his jacket that Bulma fixed for him. "Thanks Mom!" She offered him a sad smile as he darted away, eager to go back to his play. She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Sometimes in the darkness, she still felt him pushing against her and she would dream about her imprisonment again. She would wake up, sweating and on the verge of screaming with her blankets snaked around her. At night, his voice called for her in the darkness and she felt like she was drowning in the deepness of it.

Bulma closed her eyes, imagining him again, her darkest fear. His bottomless cold eyes. His cruel mouth. Even his name made her mouth go dry.

Vegeta.

What scared her the most was that there was no sympathy or mercy in him. She had spent four long, horrible years with him, long enough to know. He was evil. There was no good in him.

Suddenly Goku was in front of her, touching her wrist. His eyes were so serious, so concerned, she half-believed that someone had died. "You're thinking of him again, aren't you?"

Her eyes melted with sadness as she said quietly, "I'm afraid, Goku." She looked skyward, fearing to see one of those accursed space pods drifting across the sky. Luckily, as for the past eight years, there was no sign of the saiyan's return, but still, she would find herself frantically searching the skies. "I'm very afraid." She corrected herself.

Goku didn't seem to notice when he replied, slowly, "Fear changes a person. You went through an experience that has marked you forever." He looked towards the sky as well, searching for their space ships. "I cannot promise you that they won't come back." He looked back at Bulma, grinning. "But I'll do whatever I can to make sure you don't get hurt."

She nodded and said quietly, "Thanks Goku."

He grinned broadly and left, whistling a merry tune.

But what could promises do? What can a few petty words mean in the world she knew today? Words had no power, but fate did. Something could happen that could twist their entire fates completely and words would mean absolutely nothing.

Vegeta sat in the space pod, his eyes closed in deep thought. He was glad that he had left so soon for every second that passed would soon twist into a month that would turn into a year. Time was essential and unforgiving.

Kiryae had responded more sharply than he had expected. Her eyebrows had met in an angry frown as she hissed, "Kill the child. Murder the mother and have her left drowning in her own blood. Make sure that the beasts will devour her until there is nothing but rotting bone."

He scowled at her response. The stupid girl. As though he'd take an order from her. Killing his first-born was not only a waste but barbaric. Either way, Kiryae was no wife of his and he intended to keep it that way.

His father was a different tale. He looked indifferent when he was told and said in monotone, "Retrieve the babe and take it to the throne where it belongs. The mother can be a concubine." Once again, Vegeta had no intention of making Bulma a mere concubine. Something so beautiful couldn't have so little status.

He opened his eyes, only to get dizzied by the vast space swarming both left and right. Beside his pod were two others that concealed his partners in crime, Raditz and Nappa.

Radditz burst out laughing when he was told. "The prince already a daddy!" He roared with laughter and pounded Vegeta on the back. "You'll be a good dad to the brat." He sneered. "Tyke'll obviously be as puny as you." Though his ego was obviously hurt by this remark, he gave no response.

His other partner was the complete opposite. "I was hoping we'd get something more interesting for our next mission." Nappa had grumbled. "Nothing like capturing a brat and some whore from Chickyuu. I didn't think we'd see that mud ball again. Fucking plants itch like hell." Once again, Vegeta ignored his partner.

None really understood the overwhelming excitement that he got when he was able to return to Chickyuu; it was like the breakthrough from the wealthy life he was waiting for. It had occurred at the perfect opportunity as well. He smirked. Just when he thought he was getting bored.

He breathed in the stale air from within the space pod. He tried to imagine what his arrival would be like.

Kakarot would be ripped limb from limb and then they would pull out his entrails and leave them scattered in the sand. The saiyan had no right to inherit his title—especially when he had no tail to justify his claim. His idiot of a wife would have her tongue removed and perhaps put to 'better uses' on Vegetasei. Their brat of a first-born was taken care of, but since their other son was now living, he thought it would be best for the son to be killed before the father, before the father's eyes. The son would die slowly and painfully and from what he heard a parent feels ten times the wounds of a child.

As for the woman… He smiled and licked his lips numbly. He would deal with her personally.

Bulma walked into the house, a pathetic capsule-home that looked in danger of falling in on itself, and jolted when she saw Chi Chi standing there. Her eyes were blank as usual but this time it seemed like the older woman was looking into Bulma, into her thoughts. Her lips slowly parted as though she was going to say something and suddenly she emitted a horrible scream from her mouth, the most noise she made in years.

Bulma covered her ears and backed away from the woman that continued staring at her with soulless eyes and screaming, her mouth opening into a black hole with shrieks of horror coming from her lips.

Her voice was too high pitched for Bulma to barely interpret what the woman was saying, but she made out the words that made her freeze in fear. "Murderer! Daughter of Chaos! Whore of Hell! Fate-breaker! Mother of Misery! Monster!" The words made Bulma back into a corner and stare at the older lady. She felt a tear trickle from her cheeks as the words stung close to home.

Chi Chi suddenly reached over and grabbed a glass vase, throwing it in Bulma's direction. Bulma lifted her hands to shield her face and she felt that unbearable pain again as her flesh on her forearms tore apart, the glass shattering in pieces around her. She gasped as she looked at her hands to see them with embedded shards of glass, oozing with blood.

It wasn't until Goku ran into the house and took Chi Chi in his arms did she stop. Her screams had decreased into low moans of inaudible language as she twisted around in his arms. But her jetting glare of accusation at Bulma didn't cease even when Goku led her out of the room. Bulma felt her insides tremble, still feeling the glares burn into her face.

Before, Chi Chi would have nothing to do with the Capsule Corps heiress, probably out of jealousy or distaste. But now it was more than that. Chi Chi didn't want her around, it was more like she wished her dead.

Bulma clutched her bloody forearms and slid onto the floor, covering her face, surrounded in the remains of glass. Pulling herself inside herself. For the first time in years, she wept in the sadness of her life and at her hopeless fate. Goku returned into the room, looking uncertainly at Bulma and the glass remnants around her. He crouched before his friend and took her by her shoulders, hugging her. "It's going to be okay, Bulma." He babbled like a talkative child. "It's going to be okay."

Trunks looked up towards his mother in the middle of his spar with Goten. Straight and tall, he saw her in his eyes. Pretty and young, not like Goten's mom who was old and had lines of worry on her face, but pretty and young. He never saw his mother cry before, unlike Goku who wept when he saw a bird's nest filled with dead hatchlings or a bear cub starved to death in the cold. Goku could cry over anything that died. Chi Chi cried whenever she was alone, looking out the window with tears streaming down her soulless eyes.

His mother's face was fixed in a horrible grimace for some reason. Maybe something happened inside that had to do with the terrified screams that came from within. Her hands were wrapped up in that sticky tape substance that they used on Trunks when his hand slipped and he split his hand with a knife. Bulma had screamed at Chi Chi for leaving the knife out in the open, hugging Trunks in her arms as though he was still a baby. Chi Chi had looked blankly at her as usual and left the room, tears streaming down her cheeks with hot jealousy on her face when she turned away from Trunks.

Now, Bulma looked out towards the lake and Trunks was alarmed to see that his mother's eyes was swollen red, like she had been crying. But his mother was the one person in his life that he never saw crying. She was the strongest person he knew, even when a porcupine had attacked her, she didn't cry then or when Goku carefully pulled out the quills. When Trunks questioned her, she laughed and told him that it tickled. Then he pressed her further and asked her if she was afraid of pain. Then her face hardened into a taut scowl and she said quietly, "I'm not afraid of pain. I'm not afraid of death. I've seen death."

His furrowed his eyebrows down and looked at his reflection. He never understood his mother. She was very confusing. Every time he scowled or narrowed his eyes, she would go pale and turn away from him. She never said anything about a father; a comforting male older male figure in the family like Goku was to Goten. Every time he approached the subject, his mother would suddenly go quiet and her eyes would go blank like Chi Chi, as though she was looking through him and to his father.

He slowly walked up towards the porch, ignoring Goten's indignant cries towards him. He looked up towards his mother on the porch and said, "Mom?" She didn't hear him as a single tear fell from her cheek and landed on his eyelid. She buried her face in her Capsule Corps jacket. "Mom?" He called again.

Bulma looked down to her son. Smiled. "Yes Trunks?" She asked, her eyes suddenly looking normal again. Trunks' eyebrows met in a frown. "Are you okay?" He spoke the words, now unsure if she was crying or not. Bulma nodded, not speaking, but keeping a sad smile on her face, as her son was reassured, diving back into the fight.

"So innocent," she whispered quietly, stroking the wood on the railing. "So young." Her lips quivered as she looked up at the cloudy sky. "So blind." Her eyes switched back to the glazed over expression, red and swollen. "Just like I was." She was silent, watching her son at play. "Just like I am." She corrected herself.

Bulma turned away from her son, walking back into the house, to sit on the floor of the locked bathroom and cry for hours.

A/N: And after year's break, I'm finally back! Sorry about that incredibly long hiatus. :D I started college recently and I've had a pretty rough start. I transferred several schools that couldn't really fit and have been wrestling with what to do career-wise. I wasn't able to write at all during that time. But I've finally settled down to the right college with the right major and things are really coming together. And I can finally write again!

So after giving it a lot of thought, I've decided to give this fanfic another go. And fix up a few things. There's a lot of things that need tweaking so please bear with me as I'm going through and rewriting it. :D I know it's a bit of pain, especially since I've made you all wait so incredibly long, but honestly, it's been six/seven years since I first wrote this, so my writing style has changed pretty significantly. (Actually, it's a bit embarrassing going back and rereading what I wrote) I can't really continue the story as it is right now since there were a lot of things I botched over when I had been writing it the first time. (And I'm sorry that you had to deal with that!)

Just as a warning, some chapters are going to have more changes than others.

Thank you all for your patience and support through the years! Reading through your reviews has inspired and motivated me to continue, even though there were more than a few instances where I've considered dropping this entirely.

Please feel free to review and let me know what you think. I appreciate all of your feedback! I hope you guys enjoy this! :D