"He has beaten me completely, first through his actions, then through his son's. And what has he left for me here? How, how could you die like that, how Kakarot!? I'll...never have the chance to prove my strength against you!" His hands shook, fists clenched. "You died without fear...what does that make of me?" His fists suddenly released and his arms fell limp by his sides. The wind rustled his hair as Vegeta looked up to the sky. "I'm no warrior, and I'll never fight again."

A smile slowly spread across Bulma's face. Quickly blinking back tears, she reached up to put her arms around the lavender-haired boy from the future.

"Trunks...that's amazing." She pulled back to look him in the eye. "Of course you can never mention this to you father. He would die of embarrassment," she joked. Trunks chuckled.

"Yeah...obviously!" He sighed. "He'd probably deny defending me...say it never happened, or that Yamcha had misunderstood." Bulma sat down at the kitchen table and rested her head in her hand.

"You know...I don't know. He would definitely blow a fuse, say something mean, or tell you to get lost. But deny it completely? I'm not sure. Vegeta's a lot of things, but a liar isn't one of them. If anything, he's too honest!" Smiling, she turned to face the older version of her son. "But does it really matter? It happened. In a fit of rage, your father tried to avenge your death against Cell. He proved he cared about you." She snorted. "Of course he waited until you were actually dead to show it...typical. But still. Now you know. He loves you."

Trunks didn't even try to hide the ridiculously huge smile on his face. He had spent his whole life yearning for his Father's love. He'd never thought he would have the chance to even meet him...and when he finally had, all Trunks could see was pride and arrogance. But it seemed time, and extreme circumstance, had brought out the best in his Father. He would never say it...but just knowing it was enough.

"So what now, Mom?" Burma raised her eyebrows.

"What do you mean?" Trunks shrugged.

"I mean...what do I say to him? Thank you? What do I do? Shake his hand? Hug him?" Trunks gasped. "Oh man, I think he'd kill me all over again if I did that!" Bulma busted out laughing. Sighing, her son shook his head. "I don't know...I just don't know what to do now. Maybe I should try to find him. Where do you think he is?" Bulma cocked her head to the side.

"You don't know? I mean, you can't sense his energy?" Trunks shook his head sadly. Bulma nodded, "Well...honestly Trunks, if you can't feel him that means he's suppressing his energy, which means he doesn't want to be found. And if you go try to find a Vegeta that doesn't want to be found well...that's not going to end well." Trunks sighed.

"I know, I just...I don't want...to go back without...you know, seeing him." Bulma nodded.

"I know, sweetie. But there's no telling when that could be. Vegeta does what Vegeta wants to do. He could be in a spaceship, leaving the planet now for all we know. That's your father." Trunks looked down at his hands.

"So he hasn't really changed then," he said softly. Bulma furrowed her eyebrows.

"What? Of course he has Trunks. But that doesn't mean he's going to react to it well. Vegeta has never experienced something like this before. He's never given a shit about anyone but himself, his entire life before Earth was one big lesson on why that was the best approach in life. He doesn't believe pride and strength are all that matters without reason. For most of his life, it was all that mattered. Now all of the sudden you're showing him that you care and when you plummet to your death, he realizes he cares about you too! That's a huge change, but he doesn't have the tools to deal with it. He's either going to start blowing things up or run away. Since you can't sense him, I'm guessing he's chosen the latter." She smiled. "That doesn't stop him from caring, Trunks. And...call me crazy, but I do believe your Father will come back here eventually for you. I'm just not sure if it will be for you or this timeline's you." Trunks looked at his mother and smiled.

"You really understand him. He's lucky to have you, Mom." A mischievous smirk spread across Bulma's face.

"Damn right he is." Her face softened. "After you go home and destroy the androids and cell, why don't you come back here, a few years ahead of now? When you're...say 3 or 4. See if Vegeta's back. See if he's changed. Maybe you'll feel better then." Trunks nodded.

"That's a good idea...thanks Mom," he said smiling. He didn't want to wait, but maybe she was right. Maybe they had to do things his Father's way for now.

It had been hours, hours since Cell had been defeated, hours since he'd seen the dragon in the sky, hours since he'd felt his son's energy once more. Vegeta had been sitting on that very ground for hours, an emptiness swallowing him, swirling thoughts overtaking him. Images of Cell's blast piercing Trunks's heart flooded his mind, his heart pounding as he remembered the moment. His son...he had spent so much time trying to forget about him, forget he even existed. He'd told himself he didn't care, that fighting and winning were far more important. It had seemed logical at the time, even when they were in the hyperbolic time chamber together. Trunks had tried so desperately to get to know him and Vegeta had responded by either lashing out or ignoring him. It was only a day on the outside, but they had spent a full year together this way. He had thought nothing of it. Nothing, that is, until that horrific moment when he saw him fall.

He shook his head angrily. These thoughts...they were ridiculous! He was a Saiyan...a Saiyan prince at that! He was a cold, ruthless warrior who didn't care if his own flesh and blood lived or died. That was the world he'd grown up in, that was the reality he'd always known. And now all of the sudden he was being influenced by these petty emotions. Why?! Why did he care? How could he have fallen so far? His fists trembled by his sides as he clenched them. This was Kakarrot's fault. If he hadn't gone off and died...

He trembled for a moment more before becoming completely still. The burning anger within suddenly evaporated, like air being let out of a balloon. His rival was gone, sacrificing himself without a second thought. He had left him here, alone. Now he truly was the only one left. He was the only full-blooded Saiyan whose heart still beat, whose mind still remembered the once powerful race. The world suddenly felt very cold as an emptiness took over him. A soft rain began to fall from the sky, a physical manifestation of his own heart.

It had been the best shower in the world, nice and hot, soothing his body and mind. Heading for the door, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and couldn't help but laugh out loud. His hair had grown all the way to his shoulders! When they had been facing almost certain death, something like hair didn't seem to matter. But now his long lavender locks were pretty hilarious. Still laughing, he headed for his room. Against the wall by the window stood his sword. Pulling it from its sheath, he sliced off the extra hair in one quick, smooth gesture. An energy beam destroyed the lavender strands before they hit the ground. Smiling, he headed for the kitchen. His stomach had started to growl as if it suddenly realized it hadn't eaten in days. It was close to 1 am and everyone was asleep, but he didn't care. He was hungry after coming back to life, so he was going to eat! He rounded the corner and almost fell over in shock.

His father sat quietly at the small, round table as though waiting for food to magically appear there. His body seemed calm and relaxed, his eyes distant and unsure. There was no way he hadn't felt Trunks's energy coming, and yet he hadn't moved. He was staring straight ahead, making no eye contact with his son that now stood in the doorway. They stood like that for what seemed like ages, though it was only a few moments. Finally, Trunks took a deep breath and walked towards the fridge.

A couple days ago, Trunks would have tried to make conversation with the stern man sitting before him. But a year of training together had taught him that Vegeta was a man of action, of doing not talking. Many saw this as a negative thing, including himself in the beginning. But over time he had begun to see the truth of his father. He lived in a world of hard work and passion. If he wanted something, he didn't waste time talking it over. He went for it head on. No second thoughts, never doubting himself, he was rash and hot-headed, his pride dominating his every move. Yes, his father was a stubborn man. But he loved him. And so he would meet him on his terms, in his way. He small smile graced his features. He was happy to do it.

Reaching into the fridge, he pulled out rice, noodles, and egg rolls. Someone had obviously prepared them recently, as if they'd known he'd want to eat them that night. He used an energy beam to heat them up, not wanting to wait for the oven or microwave. He quickly grabbed a couple plates from the cabinet and carried it all over the table. He set one plate in front of his father and the other across the table for himself. He opened the containers of food, sat down, and began to eat.

Vegeta slowly turned his head to look at his son. Just hours ago he had been carried off by Tien, dead in his arms. And now here he was, quietly eating food in the kitchen as if it had never happened. He didn't look up from his meal, didn't try to make conversation with him. There was no mention of Vegeta's attempt to avenge his death, though he was certain the other morons were quick to tell him about it. He hadn't even asked him what he wanted to eat, or if he even wanted anything in the first place. He had just walked in the room, sat down, and started eating, adding an empty plate for himself should he want to join. A small smile suddenly pulled at the corners of Vegeta's mouth, pride filling his chest. Quickly pulling himself together, he stood up and walked towards the fridge.

Trunks tried hard to hide his disappointment, swearing to himself he wouldn't look up from his food. He had really thought that would've worked. His father was a man of action. Showing him that he didn't want to talk, that he didn't need words to understand him...wasn't that what he'd wanted? Maybe his mother had been wrong. Maybe Yamcha had been lying. Maybe his father...startled out of his thoughts, he looked up. In front of him was a cup and next to it a carton of milk. His father set a full glass in front of his now full plate, sat down, and began to eat. Trunks sat with wide eyes for a moment, taking it all in. His heart was racing inside him as he watched his father eating. A smile spread across his face as a warm feeling came over him. Reaching for the carton, he poured some into his own glass, and continued to eat. Perhaps his mother had been right after all.

Bulma smiled as she heard the sound of dishes in the kitchen. She'd known her Super-Saiyan son was going to realize he was starving eventually, so she'd prepared a feast for him. He deserved it and she was glad to know he was enjoying it. Smiling to herself, she headed to the bathroom to wash her face. When she came back into the room, the house was silent. Trunks must have finished eating and gone to bed. She slid of her robe and climbed into bed. She reached over to turn off the small lamp next to her bed when she gasped. Vegeta stood in the doorway, staring at her with an intensity.

"You're...already back," she whispered. He offered no response, not even an acknowledgment that he'd heard her. He seemed...confused. Bulma had a feeling he wasn't sure why he was back, why he was standing there in her room. "Your room is still empty, Vegeta. You can sleep there if you like. You're...always welcome to stay there, even if I don't know about it." Still no response. Bulma's heart began to beat a little faster. "Or...or you can..." her voice trailed off. Or he could what? Sleep with her? Would he really want to do that? Hell, did she want him to do that? Silence filled the room before Vegeta finally turned to face the door. His voice was quiet, barely audible as he spoke.

"I will stay here...so long as you will have me." Bulma stared in shock. He would stay...until she kicked him out? She opened her mouth to tell him she never would, but he was already gone.

Everyone stood outside of Capsule Corp., bittersweet looks on their faces. They were all happy, happy that the terror was finally over. But saying goodbye was always hard. They'd already lost Goku, and now it was time to send their newest friend back to the future. Bulma's eyes filled with tears as she held her future son's hand in hers.

"I'm really proud of you, son," she said, a smile stretched across her face. Trunks smiled back.

"Thanks Mom."

"Be careful."

"Right." Turning, he looked at everyone around him. Gohan and Krillin stood side by side, smiling. He was about to say something to them when he noticed another figure, standing alone by some trees.

"Dad." Vegeta offered no words and no smile. Just two fingers, slowly raised, a small salute to his future son. A knowing smile fell across Trunks's face as he reciprocated the gesture before heading for his time machine. Everyone called out their goodbyes as he rose into the air. Vegeta watched as he flew into the sky before disappearing into nothingness. As if on cue, his son of their timeline began to cry. He turned to look at him, a scowl in his face, before turning and walking inside.