Authors Note: First of all, I don't own Dragonball Z, the characters in it, or any other products or things that have been previously copyrighted that might be mentioned in here. This story and the computer I'm typing it on belong to me but sadly, that's all. I'm sure nobody really cares, but the story also contains some swearing. Not that that's any surprise to you… There are some minor spoilers later on too, so if there's anyone out there who actually hasn't seen it yet, be warned. I think that's about it so, on with the story!

4/28/10: I am going to be editing each chapter from here on in, though I should be done soon enough. Don't worry, the story isn't changing. I am just correcting mistakes in grammar and modifying the sentence structure in some places to help it flow better.

Chapter 1

"Trunks!" Her scream echoed in his ears, sounding so far off, yet urging him to come awake from what must have been the deepest sleep of his life. So tired… Was that his mother? He thought so, but it was hard to focus.

"Trunks, get up!" He heard Bulma say again, this time from the doorway, as he moaned and buried his head farther under his pillow. Not that it deterred his her at all. Without delay, she sat on the edge of his bed and promptly snatched it off of his head, standing up to open the curtains as she did so. He groaned and shielded his eyes, opening one of them to glare up at her.

"Mom, come on, it's summer time. I don't have to be up this early," he croaked, his mouth as dry as the desert he and Goten use to play in.

"Don't you remember what day it is? Your father isn't going to wait for you forever," she said, tenderly brushing strands of lavender hair out of his eyes.

"Oh yeah…" Today was the day he was going with his father to train in the empty plains, which were about a half-hour flight from West city. That way they could spar and practice techniques without having to worry about destroying the gravity chamber. Of course he couldn't have let me sleep anytime past seven in the morning…he grumbled to himself after glancing at the clock. Kami knew Vegeta wasn't the most patient man in the universe. Nevertheless, he was looking forward to it. Maybe he could convince his dad to teach him the galick gun this time.

"Come on down for breakfast when you're ready sweetie." Trunks rolled his eyes, still not very happy about being woken up at the crack of dawn. "I'm making cinnamon rolls," Bulma revealed with a slight smile, broadening all the more when her son's face lit up at the mention of his favorite breakfast food.

"All right. Just give me about twenty minutes. I wanna take a shower," Trunks replied, stifling a yawn in the process.

"I'll keep his highness occupied," Bulma said, putting as much sarcasm into the word highness as was humanly possible. She walked toward the door, tossing a smile over her shoulder as she shut it behind her.

Trunks threw off his covers and stumbled out of bed, trying very hard not to think about exactly what she meant by "I'll keep him occupied." That probably wasn't even what she meant, but what the hell. He was a teenager. He couldn't help it if his mind automatically went in that direction, even if it was about his parents. Shuddering at the thought, he walked toward the bathroom that was connected to his room.

He was just bending down to grab some clothes out of his dresser drawer when a sudden wave of dizziness hit him like a tidal wave, forcing him to grab onto the top of the dresser to keep his knees from buckling. For a moment he just stood there, breathing deeply and waiting for it to pass. When it did after about ten seconds, he stayed riveted to that place, not moving, dumbstruck.

What the hell? What was that about? I hope I'm not sick or something…If he was, and his mother found out, she wouldn't let him out of the house for weeks. Going with his dad would be out of the question. His head hurt a little and his stomach felt kind of funny, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He had to be careful of sicknesses though, because he tended to get abnormally high fevers. Once when he was only five years old, he was deathly sick and bedridden for weeks because of a case of the flu gone horribly wrong. He'd somehow managed to hide it from his mother for almost a week and nearly died as a result. It had freaked everyone out, even his father, though he would probably never admit it. He remembered his mother telling him that it had been an unusually strong strain of the flu too, and it had completely messed up his system for awhile. Even now, he was a little more susceptible to illnesses because of that. Ever since, if he let something go for to long, the results were never good. He didn't get sick all that often, but when he did, it was usually marginally more severe than it normally would have been.

But he would only be gone for a few days, certainly not enough to kill him, even if he did turn out to be sick. He didn't think it was any big deal, and besides, he wouldn't miss this for the world. Training out in the field with Vegeta contained some of the best times he'd ever had with his father, even though he often gained more insult than praise. It was one on one, just the two of them. No mom to interrupt just when things were getting serious. He could take some Tylenol or something and he'd be fine.

Trunks walked into the bathroom and turned the water on as hot as he could stand it, letting the steamy wet droplets drum into his finely toned and muscled body. He rolled his neck on his shoulders, doing his best to loosen the tense muscles. After turning the water off he stepped out of the shower, grabbing his towel off the rack and drying himself as he snatched his boxers and a pair of jeans he'd brought with him. Pulling them on, he looked up in the mirror in front of him, marveling at, as he often did, the obvious combination of both parents that he saw in himself. A pair of cerulean eyes just like his mother's stared back at him, set in a face virtually identical to that of the Prince of Saiyans. He did his best imitation of a Vegeta smirk just for kicks, then, shaking his head at his own stupidity, plucked a white tank top off of the counter and pulled it over his head, wondering why people were so fond of calling them wifebeaters. After all, why would you want a title like that? He knew it wasn't literal, but still, it was stupid.

His throbbing head reminded him that he might be sick, and he opened up the medicine cabinet to pop some Tylenol into his mouth. Capping the bottle, he shrugged his shoulders, put the whole thing in his pocket, and shut the cabinet. Better safe than sorry, right? He might as well bring them along in case he needed them, even if this turned out to be nothing.

He was going to ask Vegeta to give it everything he had like he'd done the year before, without holding back the way he usually did. Not only that, but Trunks was going to win this time. He'd make Vegeta proud of him, and he'd finally hear the words he wanted, no, needed to hear. He was going to get that much from his father if it killed him.

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"Come on Trunks, focus!" Vegeta shouted to his son, who was a few feet away shooting ki blasts at distant trees and other targets to see if he could incinerate them in one shot. He'd misses at least half a dozen out of the six dozen he'd gone for. Granted, they were so far away they could hardly be seen, but his aim was usually right on for every one regardless of how far away they were. Ever since they'd arrived at their usual training site yesterday, his son had seemed a bit preoccupied at times, sometimes even spacing out in the middle of a sparring session. Vegeta had ended up unexpectedly hitting him head on, and the force of the blow nearly snapped the boy's neck. I suppose lecturing him on the importance of focus in a battle didn't help matters. All it did was piss him off and earn me a lecture on how annoying it is to repeat the same lecture over and over again. Vegeta looked back at Trunks, who was still missing about one for every ten he shot at, and he was getting especially agitated now, Vegeta realized. His faced was flushed, sweat dripping off the fine Saiyan features of his face. He snarled and scowled at the targets that eluded him as if his life depended on destroying them. Perhaps some motivation is in order; Vegeta smirked as he thought to himself.

"What's the matter, boy? Are you a Prince or a Princess? A true Saiyan misses no target that is set before him!" Vegeta screamed to Trunks, using the cruelest sounding voice he could muster. Trunks stopped and glared over at his father, looking as if he wanted to call him every vile name in existence. "Who are you boy!? Tell me! Scream it to the skies!" Vegeta bellowed in a powerful, captivating voice, commanding and almost regal.

"I am the Prince of all Saiyans!" Trunks shouted in an equally clamorous tone, fire in his eyes.

"Are you now? Show me then, Prince. Show me what a Saiyan elite is made of! Are you so weak as to think you can defeat me!?" Vegeta sighed inwardly. The truth was, he didn't enjoy criticizing his son as much as he led people to believe. There had been a time when he took delight in the pain of others, even that of his son from the future. He forced himself to stop thinking about it. No use getting distracted now. Self-loathing would have to wait.

Trunks's glare intensified, and Vegeta thought that if looks could kill, the one his son now gave him would cripple him for the rest of his life. When he spoke his voice was low, and eerily calm. "No, Vegeta. I don't think I can defeat you. I know I can." His eyes burned with resolve despite his quite apparent fatigue, which seemed unusual to the Saiyan Prince, knowing his son. Trunks was usually a power plant when it came to energy, and he seemed to be tiring sooner than usual. For the first time since they'd been out there, Vegeta wondered if there was anything wrong with him, but he dismissed it almost immediately. Surely he wouldn't risk his health so much just to get a chance to defeat me. He obviously wanted a fight. A real one, with neither holding anything back.

"Very well then. Get started." Vegeta stepped back, signaling that he should power up now. Nodding, Trunks smiled, something akin to gratitude written on his face, silently thanked him for the chance to prove himself. Gliding backward, he got into position, lavender locks of hair flying up around his face as they changed to a brilliant gold, his violent screams echoing across the vast, green, land. His power level was through the roof, and still climbing. The power flowing out of the teenaged boy momentarily surprised Vegeta. Even though he'd always known his son would one day surpass him, he hadn't expected him to come this close so soon. If the boy played his cards right, he might even best him.

In the distance, Trunks stood stark still, yellow sparks of lightning surrounding his powered-up form. The blue green eyes of a Super Saiyan replaced his mother's bright cerulean ones and his facial features were more sharply chiseled than ever before. An almost immeasurable amount of power was added on to what was already a substantial amount even before the breathtaking transformation. However, his face had taken on a sort of red tint, and he was breathing more heavily than he should be, especially since the battle hadn't even started yet. That certainly isn't normal, Vegeta thought with a bit of concern. He'd stopped trying to ignore his natural parental instincts years ago, since it never shut up no matter how hard he tried. That was when he'd been forced to acknowledge that he actually did care, whether he liked it or not. Now he wasn't sure if this was a great idea. Even so, he completed the transformation much like Trunks had, except he was able to reach Super Saiyan two.

Trunks must have noticed the hesitation on his face because his eyes narrowed a little. "You can't back out now! What's wrong, Dad? Are you afraid of what I could do to you? Of being humiliated by your own son?" He smirked, a pretty good imitation of his own trademark smirk, Vegeta had to admit. I'm afraid it's the exact opposite my son. I might really end up hurting you.

"I think I should be asking you that question. What's the matter with you?" asked Vegeta, not unkindly. Trunks's eyes widened, and he didn't even attempt to hide his surprise, momentarily wincing when he realized he'd just given it away. Vegeta smiled sadly. "I may not be the world's best father, but I'm not stupid. Even I can tell when something is not right with my own child."

Trunks looked down at the ground and scoffed his boot against the dirt, avoiding Vegeta's piercing gaze. "It's nothing, really. I can handle it." He muttered in a dejected voice, sounding like a child who had gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I'll be just fine until we get home. Please just let me fight you! Please!" He begged him, desperation that Vegeta didn't understand thick in his tone. He thought back to the horrifying incident when Trunks was only a small boy, blood boiling in response. He never wanted to see his son suffer so ever again. Just thinking about it made him want to strangle the boy himself. How could he be so stupid? Vegeta felt his temper boil underneath the surface, threatening to burst at any second, and he found that he couldn't hold back the words.

"You fool!" Vegeta exploded, screaming at his visibly blanching son with a force that even he didn't exhibit often. "Don't you understand what it means for you to be ill? Do you recall what happened the last time you let a serious sickness go!? What the hell is the matter with you, you stupid little prick!? Is your brain on vacation? Or did you borrow Kakarot's for awhile, just to see what being a complete moron is like?!" Vegeta screamed even louder, if that was at all possible. He was so angry and concerned it just exploded out of him before he had the chance to do anything about it. Trunks, unfortunately, didn't see it that way, or so it seemed to Vegeta, judging from his expression.

For a split second Trunks looked hurt, as if the comments had greatly stung him, but he quickly locked it away, putting on a mask of anger in its place. He growled low in his throat, almost sounding like a wild animal, then, without warning, he lunged at Vegeta, throwing punches so rapid you could scarcely see his fists. Vegeta had no choice but to fight back, blocking every punch he dished out before they could land. I must stop this before he goes too far and hurts himself. Trunks, you fool…what the hell are you thinking?

Trunks's frenzy continued, fists flying repeatedly past Vegeta's face as he tried with all his might to strike the Saiyan prince. Eventually he succeeded, sending him flying into the rugged landscape bellow. Trunks hovered a few feet off the ground, blue-green gaze piercing into Vegeta as he picked himself up off the ground. "That's right, get up! Fight me like you mean it instead of just dodging everything like an evasive coward!"

Vegeta gazed at Trunks, serene expression only serving to further agitate the teenaged prince that hovered above. "Stop this now, Trunks. Don't make me hurt you."

His son snorted with amusement. "Even someone like you wouldn't deliberately hurt your own flesh and blood."

Someone like me? I'm not that bad am I…? "And just what the hell is that suppose to mean you pint-sized jackass?" he replied, unknowingly making matters progressively worse.

Trunks's face grew even redder with rage. "Oh, you're one to talk about size, Mr. I-can't-even-see-over-Goku's-head! How tall are you anyway, five feet at the max!?"

"What did you say!? No one talks to me like that! Not even you, my son. Come kneel before me, and say that!" Vegeta screamed in outrage.

"Why, so we can see eye to eye?"

Vegeta growled, animal instincts threatening to take over. "How dare you, you spoiled little brat! I am your superior as well as your father, and you have no right at all to speak that way to your lord!"

"Well, technically you aren't any higher in standing than I am, since you never had an official coronation. That's what you said, right, my lord?" Trunks said, uttering the last bit in the most insulting tone he could.

"That makes no difference to you! I am your father, you will do as I say, and I'm telling you to get down here right now before you make even more of a fool of yourself and get killed because of your idiotic, reckless actions!" Vegeta thundered, almost wanting to shoot him out of the sky himself.

"You say that as if you actually care, you immoral bastard! You don't give a damn about me and you never have! Stop pretending! I can't take it anymore…" Trunks shouted, anger and sadness coloring his tone. " Just when I start to think maybe I have a place in that black hole you call heart, you turn around and do something that suggests the exact opposite. I hate it!" His voice shook, and his eyes were deep pools of pain.

Vegeta stood, baffled and, hurt, he grudgingly admitted to himself. If that was what he thought, so be it. Without another thought, he transported effortlessly behind his son, catching him by surprise and hitting him near the pressure point in his neck, enough to send him spiraling toward the ground but not enough to knock him out, though he lost his transformation. Vegeta flew down after him and caught him by the scruff of the neck, gently lowering him to the ground. Trunks scrambled off of the ground and rubbed his raw neck, looking at Vegeta with wide, confused eyes.

"W-What are you doing?" Trunks asked, disappointment and confusion reflected in his every feature.

Vegeta spoke in a calm and detached voice, betraying none of the emotional turmoil inside of him. He planned to send the boy home in a way he wouldn't be able to refuse. The only way Vegeta knew how to get his son the help he needed. "You are ill. You will go home and the woman will take you to a physician immediately. Do not come back, and don't argue with me. You're a disgrace to yourself and to me. I don't need you getting in my way." Trunks jerked back, as if he'd been physically slapped. He stared with shock at the man he'd admired all his life, tears rimming his eyes no matter how hard he tried to hold them back, and Vegeta forced himself not to look away, becoming more and more disgusted with himself by the second.

"Fine. I'll go home." Trunks muttered, lowering his gaze to the ground. He looked and sounding so broken, it wrenched Vegeta's heart. Without another word, or even another glance Vegeta's way, Trunks soared into the sky and never looked back. He watched him go, torn. Every fiber of his being screamed to go after him, but he knew that wasn't possible. He had to be sure his own mistakes wouldn't be repeated by the boy, and the only way to do that was to betray no weaknesses to his vulnerable teenaged son. No one can know how weak I truly am. If he doesn't know my weaknesses, he will not develop them himself. It is all I can give him. Though he still could still do nothing to quiet his own doubt of its truth.

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Trunks flew blindly through the darkening sky to West City, tears streaming down his cheeks and blurring his vision so much he had to stop for a minute to calm down for fear of crashing into something. A sob escaped his lips as he thought about the words he'd just heard, cold and disconnected, sending him into a downward spiral to oblivion. And I thought he loved me…Maybe I am a fool. But he'd been so sure! When his dad had actually expressed some concern for him, he'd thought maybe Vegeta really did love him, and look at him with pride. Once he'd even held him tight and told him he was proud, just before sacrificing himself to save the Earth and kill Majin Buu.

Wiping the tears off his cheeks, he stayed suspended in the air, immersing himself deep in his thoughts. I know it's there…it has to be. He just needs some help recognizing it. He was still hurt, and unbelievable pissed, but he supposed he really couldn't blame Vegeta. After all he'd been through in his childhood, no wonder he was the way he was. He must have been so lonely…A childhood that shattered his soul…Trunks didn't want that to be him, but he could feel his sorrow crushing him, threatening to rip him apart at the seams. It was ironic really, but he and his father were one and the same in that respect.

All of a sudden it came to him, so stupid and reckless, he thought it just might work, and he smiled in delight and anticipation.

I said I'd go home. I didn't say anything about staying there.

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I'm finally finished with the first chapter, yes! Please review, feedback is important motivation for us authors, as you probably know. Thanks in advance, everyone!