Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z, GT, none of that jazz. It is all owned by Akira Toriyama. I think we all get this, but just in case…you know. The only characters I own are Cam Wo, Officer Ham, Chop, and the Rat Tail gang.

Author's Note:

Guten Tag, beautifuls.

The story line is based on Disney Pixar's "Finding Nemo". You will find my selection of characters also relating to "Nemo". :D

Bulma & Vegeta do split in this fic, but not permanently. I am 100% BulmaXVegeta- all day, everyday.

Happy holidays- or as we say it in my country, "Frohe Fest(tage)/Feiertage"! Well, here is one for the holidays. I guess it falls into more of the Christmas category, but whatever you celebrate, I hope you enjoy this as well. For me, personally, I celebrate Yule. I'm Wiccan. Yule is basically Christmas, but Pagan and a far older tradition. I won't quite get into that. Anyways, enjoy. Can a review be my present if it doesn't trouble you? Thank you!

I was six. I remember because it was my birthday. Dad wasn't much of a party guy, especially when it was for kids . He wasn't at all the most gregarious person in the world- he still isn't, as a matter of fact. But mom was able to convince him to let me have an actual party that year. And by "convince", I mean she ignored whatever he said as she usually did when they disagreed. All my friends were invited into my house; Pan, Marron, Goten, the whole gang. Mom was the one who set it all up; the balloons, the games, even the to-die-for chocolate cake. I actually had a good time, remembering back to it, with all my friends laughing and hollering.

"It's your turn!" came Marron. Her blonde pigtails bounced with her as she came behind me and tied a blindfold over my eyes. "You gotta get me!"

I tried to follow her chortles as her feet pitter-patted away. Goten and Trunks gave a few shouts, giving me false directions so they wouldn't get caught. I could hear them all cackling and shouting, leaping up on the couches and Pan's mother telling her to be careful. I was blinded with joy, possibly a foolish merriness, but joy nonetheless. As long as no one tried to trip me and I avoided smacking into a wall, all would turn out well. Even if I had fallen on my face, I'm sure we all would have laughed about it later. After tracing the air with my arms outstretched, I suddenly felt a solid warmth beneath my finger tips and heard the whine of someone who'd been captured.

"Aw, you got me." Dende's voice pouted.

"Ha-ha! Now Dende's it!" my brother chuckled, allowing this day to be special to me. Sure, he, Goten, Dende, and Marron were slightly older than me, but they hadn't seemed to mind much. I never thanked them for that little bit of gratification. I'm sure they had plenty of "big-kid" things to be doing. However, they seemed to somewhat enjoy hanging with us younger kids, and not the kind of "enjoy" where you're just smiling obsequiously either.

Yet all my fun, my happiness, and the smile I thought had been permanently etched on my face had vanished. From the moment I untied the blindfold, everything had quickly and secretly become convoluted. My eyes locked on to an area that was much darker than the rest of the house. My sight was glued between two bundles of rainbow balloons, which I'm sure made the hallway look that much more grim. I could see mom and dad arguing again, their grounds stood more firmly than I had ever seen before.

My parents argued a lot, but never quite so maliciously. It was usually heated with insults then and there, but there was something playful and loving about the way they disputed. Like if insults and threats were a dance, their deranged romance would be some kind of erotic ballet. Their bodies entangling eloquently, their passion pounding as the beat, and their fiery words bouncing between the chords of harsh violins. If anything, I'm sure they only loved each other more for it afterwards.

This was different, though. I'd never seen dad speak so balefully, at least not towards mom. Mom was like an adrenaline pumped cat whose tail had been stepped on. Her back arched and she hissed another round of accusations and contempt. I was unable to hear much else besides harsh undertones, which I supposed was a good sign since they weren't quite yelling yet. What surprised me most, however, was the fact that no one else seemed to notice. Chi-Chi was sipping tea with Android 18, my friends were still running ramped, and Goku was engaged in some pleasant conversation with Krillin and Gohan. How could such a storm rage so silently as if the others felt only gentle breezes while I stood in the tornado? In an instant, I felt completely alone. I was the only one who witnessed the horror unfolding, and I knew that stepping in would cause a scene; a dismal end to every one's fun.

So I stood there.

With one big frustrated huff, father turned heel and marched out the door. It slammed powerfully behind him and a slight quake shook through the house. That got everyone's attention, but mom wasn't fazed in the least. She flipped back her hair and stood tall, giving a well-rehearsed laugh and a girlish "oops". Then her eyes met mine. I'm not quite sure what kind of expression I had, though it felt like somewhere between morose surprise and nausea, and her face morphed into her reply. I could see it in her eyes, the worry that I had just seen what happened.

"Hey! Bra! You gonna tie the blindfold or not?" Pan pulled my attention back to a childhood moment I can honestly say I wish had lasted longer. I blinked repeatedly, hoping father would reappear. Yet he did not. Mother pursed her lips like she were thinking of something to say to me, perhaps even thinking about pulling me away from the game for a moment. I gave her the relief of not having to do that and smiled excitedly at Dende. I knotted the blindfold around his head and began running. I didn't know where or why, but I ran. No one really noticed since it was a part of the game, and I was thankful for that, but I sort of wished someone had. I wanted mom, maybe Marron or someone, to notice the pain I felt and ask "what's wrong?".

I ran silently to my room, making sure to hold the tears back until my door was shut nice and tight. My first instinct when crossing the threshold to my room was to keep on running to the window. I almost threw myself through the glass I had been in such a rush. My fingers wrapped around the windowsill while I sucked in a breath of fresh air. I saw daddy slam the trunk of his car which had been loaded with suitcases. It hit me then. This had to have been going on for days, maybe weeks. Father must have been all packed and ready to go on a moment's notice, perhaps testing just how long he could tolerate us all. I knew he didn't like parties, but was he really that mad at me for celebrating my turning six years of age? For wanting to have a little fun?

"Daddy!" I called out the window. "Daddy, we're having cake soon!"

He looked up. I didn't see much of myself in him then; not his eyes, his hair, his vehemence. I didn't see anything in him at all, actually. When he looked up at me, trying so hard to reel him back into the house with my wet eyes, there was almost nothing there. I had nothing to go on, nothing I could solve or even use to pretend that he meant to say "sorry, kiddo". Then he turned right back around and got in the car. As he did, I remember hoping- if only a little bit- that he'd get back out and run into the house to pull me in his arms. But that was asking a bit much. Father wouldn't even do that to Trunks, and weren't sons always supposed to the favorites of fathers?

I heard my nails scraping at the windowsill. I wanted to tell myself that he was only going to pick something up from the store, that maybe he forgot something somewhere, or maybe there was some type of emergency. But all I could think of was someone punching him square in the face- someone who hated him and wouldn't hold back any.

"Bra?" Trunks' voice came through my door, followed by two knocks. "Bra, you in there?"

"Yes." my voice trembled while I quickly pushed away the tears forming in my eyes. Trunks came in slightly, took one good look at me, and twisted his face into one resembling concern.

"What're you doing up here? You left right in the middle of the game and we were all looking for you, birthday girl."

"Oh…I… I don't feel so good."

"You alright? Should I get mom?"

"No."

He seemed put off by the softness of my words and my lack of eye contact. Had I been my usual self, well damn, I wouldn't even be in my room. I would have been loud and talkative, sociable, the complete opposite of my father. Crouching down to my height, he placed a hand on my forehead and then assessed me with his eyes. I guess he knew me better than I thought, because right away he knew something was up. Maybe it had something to do with that saiyan mumbo-jumbo, or maybe he was just a really good brother.

"You don't seem to have a fever. Are you sure that's what's wrong?"

I stood silent for a second, contemplating on how- if- I should word it all. I didn't want Trunks to worry, especially not about mommy and daddy. Dad was always giving him stress and Trunks was always protecting mommy when dad was away; sometimes even from daddy.

"Daddy left." even from the moment the whimpering words came from my mouth, the tears came anyways. Trunks' eyes went wide.

"What?"

"Daddy… I saw him fighting with mommy again…and then he left with a whole bunch of bags in the car."

"Are you sure? I didn't hear them arguing."

I nodded. Trunks pulled me into his chest where I wept some more. It's a little hard to see it now, but as a young girl who just barely turned six, I somehow got the idea that it was because of me that dad left. So I was balling my eyes out all over Trunks' shirt; poor guy. I didn't want to be too loud, though, or some of my guests would hear me sobbing like a spoiled brat who didn't get everything she wanted.

"I'm sorry, Trunks. I just wanted everyone to be together."

"What are you talking about? You have nothing to be apologizing for. It's dad's fault, not yours. Dad is just a little stressed, that's all."

"I shouldn't have had a party. Maybe he would have stayed."

"No. You can't think like that. It's great that you had a party. Everyone's having fun and we're all here for you; the little princess. I know I'm glad you did."

"Really?"

"Really, really."

I smiled in his arms right there. He always had this way of making things better, of taking my fears and turning them into laughs. Not that I'd ever admit that out loud, of course.

"C'mon, now. No crying. How about we go back downstairs and open some presents? That sound good?"

"M-hm."

He picked me up without any effort at all. Mommy told me how heavy I'd been getting. After all, I grew out of my stroller some time ago. But mommy wasn't a warrior like Trunks or daddy. As he carried me back down, I wiped any evidence of tears or snot from my face and buried myself in the warmth of my brother's arms.

"I found the birthday girl." he announced when we entered the living room. I was greeted with everyone's smiles, but for some reason I don't quite recall, I grew timid. I hid my face in Trunks' shirt and the grown ups thought it was cute. That was more frightening than anything at the time, at least in my mind it was; when grown ups thought your insecurities and fears were adorable.

"Someone's a little shy." teased Goku. "Maybe some of that delicious, chocolate cake would bring her around!"

"For once in your life, Goku, would you get your mind off of your stomach?" Chi-Chi rolled her eyes.

"Sorry, but it just looks so good!"

"Oh, Goku."

"Actually," came mom from the head of the table, "that's not a bad idea. Cake time, everyone! Come and get it!"

"Yay!" my friends ran for the table with laughter.

"I want a big piece!"

"Oh, I want the corner with the flower on it!"

"Nu-uh, I want that one!"

"Calm down, calm down. Let's all sing 'happy birthday' first." mom shut off all the lights. When the voices started up, singing that same old merry tune, I couldn't help but stare at the melting wax number six atop my cake. I felt just like that; a melting candle, hardening on the sweet memories below that I forevermore addressed as the chocolate days. At six years old, someone already had to put that flame out or I was a goner.

The song felt like it lasted an eternity. Finally, someone awoke me from my daze when they shouted for me to make a wish. I wondered if birthday wishes worked like dragon ball wishes did. Like maybe I had to gather a certain amount of candles or have a certain number of birthdays, then confide my desires to some birthday-wish-master. Either way, I wouldn't know exactly what I wanted. I wished dad would've come back, I wished he would've loved me like Goten's, Pan's, or Marron's fathers, or at least said "good morning, princess" or "happy birthday, Bra", I wished he wouldn't be so mean to mommy, I wished I had a new daddy, I wished…

I blew out the candle in one big huff. They all clapped for me and the lights came on. Mom took out the candle, but I still watched as the faint smoke- my wish- floated up into the air to be heard by the giant birthday-wish-master in the sky. Then everyone began bickering over cake slices and who was next. Goku, of course, was right in the middle of it.

"What'd you wish for, Bra?" Pan poked her head up from her plate with a smile.

"I can't tell you." I said with a smile.

"Why not?"

Gohan wiped icing from his daughter's cheek.

"Because if she does, then her wish might not come true."

"Oh, is that how it works?"

"Yup. Birthday wishes are special."

"I can't wait until my birthday! I'm gonna wish for a bicycle!"

"Don't tell anyone." laughed Videl.

I would never tell anyone my wish, not even after what happened the following winter. It was my one secret desire, one I feared my mom would scold me for or Trunks would think down upon. No one could know.

I wished my dad would know how I felt that day; losing someone you cared about and having them only look back at you like an insect under your shoe. I wished he'd feel every bit as sad, every bit as scared, every bit as angry and as guilty. And unlike me, the only thing to be there to tell him that everything will be ok, is that bit of denial whispering in his head.