Vegeta awoke with a start, the sounds of his heavy rasping breaths disturbing the otherwise ambient silence of the night. His eyes overcompensated in their attempts to focus on the moonlight peaking behind the drawn shades, but his mind was quicker to assure him that the only energy signal nearby was his wife sleeping peacefully beside him. He felt a bead of sweat drip from his nose as he began piecing together his thoughts.

It was that dream again. The one from back when he was still working beneath Frieza. Vegeta scrubbed his face with his hands before flinging his legs over the side of the bed. He strode across the large master bedroom and towards the French doors which led to the veranda. He hoped the cool night air was enough to lower his body temperature and stop his heart from beating in his throat, but after three consecutive months of periodically dreaming the same dream, he knew it was only a matter of time before he'd be gasping awake once more.

He silently opened the door and stepped out onto the tiled stoop, gently closing it behind himself and reveling in the cold stone beneath his feet. He could remember a time, not too long ago, when he wouldn't have cared about waking every being in a ten-mile radius because of his foul mood. Now, on the other hand, he wasn't even sure how he'd be able to explain his dream to his wife. Not to mention she wasn't too keen on being woken up in the middle of the night, given how little sleep she seemed to get every other night. Vegeta walked across the small balcony garden to the rail that overlooked the largest inner courtyard of the estate. The moon was full, and the sky was clear, giving a beautiful view in the soft moonlight glow.

He crossed his arms over his chest and took a deep breath, trying to remember the meditation exercises he'd learned as a child. When the hierarchy of Planet Vegeta was still in control, his father was very strict on the balance of education. Prince Vegeta had always been an angry belligerent child, much more than his own father at the same age, and they often had their differences about how the prince was to spend his time. He found school extraordinarily boring and would much rather spend his time fighting than studying, but in the end, he kept up with his studies and halfheartedly tried to engage in stretching and meditation exercises. Under the reign of Frieza and as such a powerful and hotheaded boy, he certainly didn't have to listen to instructions unless they came from a commanding officer. It was only until he saw for himself how much his rage blinded him in battle that he began taking meditation even somewhat seriously. However, he was very late in the effort and old habits die hard.

Vegeta took another deep breath, holding it momentarily before releasing it through his nose. They were all dead. Frieza was dead. King Cold was dead. Even Cooler was dead. Not to mention Nappa and Raditz. His family. His planet.

His entire race.

Vegeta sucked in another breath, letting it sit a bit longer before forcing it out. It was useless to dwell on things lost in the past, but that didn't stop him from thinking about a future that could have been. One where he was finally rightfully crowned King of Planet Vegeta. Where he might have even led his people into battle against Frieza. Maybe they would have even won.

Vegeta scoffed at his own useless daydreams. There really was no use trying to imagine something so stupid. It wouldn't bring anything back, it wouldn't solve his problems, and it certainly wouldn't absolve anything of his past life. He filled his lungs once more and slowly released the air, feeling no less calm than when he'd first woken up. Vegeta turned and walked over to a stone bench, removing the cushions from the seat and tossing them aside. He plopped down, inhaling sharply from the cold stone touching his bare back and seeping in through the thin shorts. He leaned back and spread his arms across the back of the bench, taking another large breath and clearing his mind.

A scream. Flashes of light.

He squeezed his eyes shut and took another breath.

They relied on you, they trusted you. Are you going to make the same mistake twice?

Vegeta tightened his fists and let out a low growl of frustration.

"It's ended, it's over. There's no reason to dwell."

He could still see their faces. After so many years it was beginning to be difficult to distinguish every single mission from another, especially when they could all be chalked up to the same end goal. Regardless, there were still faces he just couldn't seem to forget.

A soft click brought the prince back to his senses, raising his guard for a moment until he realized who was at the door to his bedroom.

Trunks peered through the crack in the door frame, hoping he hadn't woken up his mom. She could be rather scary when her beauty sleep was disturbed, and his goal right now wasn't to see that side of her. He was accustomed to his dad sleeping in some other room, so he didn't think to pay attention to any other energy signal as he quietly crept through the large room. Vegeta watched from the French doors as his son slunk towards the oversized bed, staring across the top with an expectant gleam in his eye. He looked as if he was weighing a large option, probably whether it was a good idea to try and wake up his mom or not. Before the boy could make a move though, Vegeta gave a small burst of his energy and Trunks perked up. His eyes quickly darted to the doors that led to his parents' balcony, his expression turning sheepish when he saw his father. He padded across the room, his head bowed and eyes glancing up like a misbehaving puppy as he reached the door and quietly pushed it open.

Trunks stepped outside and shivered, letting the door close behind him.

"What's the matter?" Vegeta asked, and something about his tone made Trunks not want to just drop the topic at something simple. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering if it was actually worth it to try and talk about something like this with his father.

"I… had a bad dream." He answered softly, shifting uncomfortably. He expected his father to disregard him and tell him to grow up and go back to bed. He braced himself for the coldness that was normally his father, but instead he felt the man's hand ruffle his hair. He glanced up hopefully.

"What did you dream about?"

Trunks stood with his mouth hanging open like an idiot for a moment, not comprehending what was said before his eyes lit up briefly when he finally realized what he heard was correct. He was so excited that for a moment he forgot what he was doing.

"It, uhm…" He stated at first before remembering his bad dream, causing his expression to fall. "It was about Majin Boo." He answered simply, feeling like a silly child. After all, the evil side of Boo was gone. Now he was nothing more than a glutenous annoying pink blob. What was so scary about that?

Vegeta squeezed his son's shoulder lightly and led him over to the stone bench, letting out a heavy breath.

"What happened in your dream?" He asked as he took a seat. He sat leaning against the armrest with one leg stretched out across the bench and the other bent so his foot rested against the side of his knee. He beckoned Trunks over and sat him down on his bent leg, allowing the boy to lean back against his chest. Trunks marveled at how warm the man was, still a little confused about how his father wasn't in a grumpy mood.

"Well, umm, we're all fighting Boo, but everyone keeps getting hurt." Trunks admitted, squeezing his hands into fists. "And, and I'm trying my best, but it's not…" He trailed off, his voice catching as he tried to remind himself not to cry. He didn't want his father to dismiss him so soon, not because of something dumb like crying. "It's not enough. And everyone is… dying." He felt a hot tear stream down his cheek and he quickly wiped it away. "And Gohan dies, and Goten dies, and mom dies and you…" Trunks couldn't hold himself back any longer and wept loudly, turning in his father's lap to wrap his arms around the man's shoulders. He buried his head in the crook of Vegeta's neck as his father ignored the tears and drool dripping from the boy's face. He had no idea what came over him to just sit and stroke the boy's hair instead of ordering him to get himself together and tough it out. Maybe it was something he subconsciously wished his own father had done for him at his age? After all, he'd never had the chance to grow up alongside his parents. He wondered if his father would have even tolerated such an outburst at this age. Trunks was different though. He was growing up on a different planet under different circumstances, and while he may never be regarded as royalty and judged based on his fighting prowess, Vegeta could honestly admit he was glad Trunks wouldn't have to grow up amongst the turmoil of planet Vegeta.

Trunks very obviously tried to reel back the tears, his sobs turning into loud hiccups as he squeezed his father in a tight hug. Vegeta rubbed his back, allowing the boy to slowly calm down. They sat like that until Trunks eventually mustered up the will to let go of his father and wipe his nose and eyes.

"It's unfair of me to expect you to go into battle like that." Vegeta stated easily, looking off into the night's sky as he continued to stroke the boy's back. "While I may have been conceived entirely based on succession of the throne, and raised amongst warriors, you lead a very different kind of life." He mused, running his fingers through his son's hair once again.

"But I want to fight with you!" Trunks blurted, sitting up to look his father in the eye. "I really do! I'm not a baby, I just…" He trailed off, glancing down at the ground. Vegeta scoffed.

"You may still be a child, but you're my son and I know you're capable. But it's entirely different growing up surrounded by so much violence instead of having to step away from it and lead a civilian lifestyle." Vegeta commented, letting the kid lean back down to rest his head on the man's chest. They sat like that for a while. Trunks wanted to ask more, he was very curious about his father's life before he met his mother. He'd heard all kinds of stories from Goku, Chichi, Gohan, his mom, and lots of other people, and he knew his father wasn't a good person at first, but he wanted more stories of when his dad was young. And what about he grandparents? And his entire race, the other half that grew up on some other far away planet. He knew it wasn't there anymore, and the thought made him sad.

"Dad?" Trunks asked after a while.

"Yes Trunks?" His father answered in a way that made it sound like he had something else on his mind.

"Am I… going to die?"

Vegeta blinked, tearing himself away from his thoughts. He felt his son tense up as more hot tears dripped from his cheeks.

"Everyone dies someday." He offered, not sure if there was ever a way to make someone less uneasy about death. "It's not worth it to worry about it today."

Trunks was shaking and sniffling in his arms once again. Vegeta sighed bitterly.

"Stop worrying about it. With death comes life. People are born and then they die, and the cycle just continues on and on. But you are my son, a proud Saiyan, and a strong warrior. You're not going to die for a very long time, so you can't waste your time thinking about death." He offered as advice, patting his son on the back as he began calming down once again.

They sat like that for a while, until soft snores began escaping the boy's mouth and Vegeta wondered how long they had been like that. He decided to try sleeping again, figuring it was better than being exhausted all day. When he stood, he shifted the boy to still be in his arms, one arm beneath him as he was allowed to continue sleeping against his father's chest. Vegeta quietly entered the house, feeling Bulma's eyes follow him as he walked across the expanse and out the door. Carrying a sleeping Trunks after comforting him was sure to get the man on her good side and he couldn't help smirking at the thought.

After depositing the boy in his room, Vegeta eventually found a clock and groaned at the time. No use going back to sleep at five in the morning, he thought.

Vegeta headed for the kitchen, deciding coffee and a snack was in order while he waited for the family's personal chef to arrive for normal breakfast hours. He turned on a pot of coffee and started heading for the fridge when he suddenly felt something in his chest. Vegeta stopped, supporting himself against the island counter as his face contorted in pain. He tried sucking in a breath, but the heavy weight on his chest didn't seem to budge. He grunted in pain, sinking to one knee and clutching at his chest with both hands. His eyes were nearly bulging out of his skull as he wheezed and croaked through the agony. What was only a few minutes felt as if it lasted for hours, but slowly the discomfort began to subside.

Vegeta swore under his breath as he drank in deep heavy gulps of air. Slowly he stood and walked out of the kitchen to a mirror that hung as decoration in the next room. He was pale and sweaty, but otherwise looked fine. He danced around the idea that he might have just had a heart attack, but ultimately thought the idea was ridiculous considering who he was. Heart attacks were for old people. People who don't exercise. Right?

Vegeta shook his head. It wasn't worth it to dwell. Whatever happened was over and now it was time to move on.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, immense pressure sank down on his chest. Vegeta gasped for air like a fish out of water. He was on his knees before he realized it, and soon enough doubled over on the ground writhing in agony. He tried to think of what to do but was in too much pain. Should he seek help from the Earth doctors? They could at least give him medication to alleviate the pain while Bulma actually investigated. While Saiyans and Earthlings were very similar, it was better to get advice from an expert. He then remembered Kami, the little Namekian on the lookout. Vegeta picked himself up with levitation and headed for the door, fumbling with the handle for a moment before limping off into the morning sky