A/N:
If I mix up some Maroon 5 and Italobrothers while I write this, I might get it done faster~
Finally! I've managed to step into the DBZ fanfiction and write my own stuff. I've been reading a lot of other's work and taking note of what kind of style I want to use to approach to write it; this is, after all, my first DBZ fanfiction ever. But at least I'm here now!
Warnings: blood/violence, course language, et cetera
*italics could mean one of three things*: a flashback, a thought, or a dream. Keep this in mind!
Thanks again and enjoy the read!
'Wasteland'
Rain fell outside a little harder than it did 10 minutes earlier. A window had been left open in a lonely bedroom, allowing raindrops to fall upon the window sill and inevitably drop down to the carpet. Inside the room, a cup was set down on a small wooden desk as a young man paced his room again for the thousandth time that cold rainy day.
Suddenly, he stopped and sighed, raking a strong, calloused hand through his soft lavender hair. He had been slaving over the idea of opening the little envelope that sat innocently on his desk a little ways from him. There were small, intricately written letters on the front that he'd probably read over 20 times; repeating them even more in his head like a chant.
'To Trunks
From Vegeta'
Those words alone struck Trunks cold. He felt prideful of his father's selfless act on the battlefield while they were up against Cell; but the idea of Vegeta, his long lost stubborn jackass of a father, giving Trunks anything other than a punch to the stomach or a hard learned lesson off the field was a ludicrous suggestion at best. Clearly something had gone wrong here, and it was enough to drive Trunks truly mad with curiosity. He wanted so badly to tear open the piece of paper and read just to find out what his father had wanted to tell him.
But then it'd hit him again. He sighed, lifting a hand to examine the deep mark on it as if it were burned. That was all he needed to see in order to stave off the hunger for answers a little longer. After all, for all Trunks knew, the envelope could hold a letter declaring deep, eternal hatred and dissatisfaction for the half-Saiyan boy. He couldn't forget the harsh training he'd gotten from his father that had made that mark.
"TRUNKS GET DOWN HERE SON, DINNER'S READY!"
Trunks whipped around at the sound of his mother's voice carrying up the stairs all the way to his room. He had been so deeply lost in thought that he didn't notice the smell of food in the air or the hunger pangs now evident on him. He chewed the inside of his cheek as he fought to decide whether or not to eat dinner with his mother or not. Normally he'd be all for it. Time with his mother was cherished highly by him, especially after losing Gohan and having no one else special in his life to turn to other than the strong woman who gave birth to him. But today wasn't normal. Today was confusing him and ravaging his brain for a way to break him. Today was not the time to sit down and act like things were okay for him.
And then there was the other reason for not coming downstairs. As much as he loved his mother and was easily a friendly guy with no qualms about telling his mother when something was usually going on, again: today was not the day. His father had become an incredibly touchy subject for him, and he knew better than anyone that Bulma would not let him go without him coughing up the details. He closed his eyes.
'Forgive me mother, but I have to get through this alone. I may be your son, but I'm Vegeta's son too, and I'm just as stubborn as he is.' Trunks thought to himself. He nodded silently as if to tell himself he'd come to a decision, and turned abruptly to his desk before snatching up the envelope and quickly shoving it under his mattress. He narrowed his blue eyes as he stared down at his bed.
'I'll be back to deal with you later. But for now,'
He turned again, this time to reach for the open window. The rain had let up some, drizzling more than anything. Trunks swung a leg over the window sill and took in the ice cold breeze of the rain storm before letting his gaze fall to the ground. The fence was in pieces and the yard was neglected, but he could tell his mother had been taking steps toward renovating their yard and making things look nice again...not that he'd ever seen Capsule Corp look any different from now other than in the opposite timeline. A pang of sadness ripped through his heart at the thought. He was grateful for what he had, but looking at his innocent self in the past surrounded by all the things Trunks had ever wanted, friends, family, his own father...it was breaking his heart.
'No, he deserves to have the life I never got. And besides, I may have lost Gohan...but at least I still have mom.' he thought to himself, smiling weakly.
He focused instead on his current situation: get out of the house and away so he could think and have privacy. He nodded again and pulled his other leg through the window before jumping out completely, landing softly on the ground below. He looked back up at his window, then back down ahead of him as he shoved his fingers in his pockets.
'Here goes nothing...'
"What in the world? I called that kid down here 10 minutes ago, so where on Earth could he be? I swear, that boy's gonna drive me insane one day." grumbled a very irate mother under her breath vehemently.
She turned on her heel as she climbed the last step and made her way over to the door of her only son's bedroom. Usually she'd come busting into a person's room with no regard for their personal privacy, but this was Trunks. She hadn't dared intrude upon his domain unless an emergency came up. So, instead of blasting her way through the door like she would have in her temperamental youth, she simply knocked on the door gently and waited patiently for her boy to respond.
She frowned automatically when she didn't hear the sound of her son calling out a greeting or a 'wait-a-sec' like he usually did.
'Hmm, that's weird.' she thought.
Puzzled, she knocked again and waited, telling herself she would open the door if no one called out. Her frown deepened dramatically when she heard nothing. Not even the sound of shuffling feet or breathing. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes as she placed her hand on the doorknob.
"Alright kiddo, you asked for it." she announced. She burst through the door, ready to start scolding her normally well mannered son for having the gall to ignore her, when she realized suddenly that there was no boy to yell at inside the room. She blinked in confusion, then again in worry, and finally in rage as her light colored eyes settled on an empty window, the curtains swaying slightly from the breeze outside.
"Son of a...that goof he left me! Ugh, I knew he shouldn't have hung around those blockheaded idiots for too long. He's already starting to act like them!" she shouted to no one in particular, referring to her old friends from the Z gang.
She spun around and stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her and shouted, "When that boy gets home oh I'm going to let him have it! Adult or not! Sheesh!"
'If this rain doesn't let up anymore soon I might need to find shelter...not that my Saiyan heritage won't stop any sicknesses from coming up.' Trunks thought briefly to himself. His lavender hair was stuck to the sides of his head and around his neck, his clothes soaked through and through. Oddly enough, though, Trunks wasn't really bothered by the prospect of all the dampness. He needed it to be honest with himself. A day to just walk it all off and get caught up in Earth's weather for a few hours to take his mind off of the ridiculous amount of things on his mind was exactly what he had needed.
He trudged past puddles of muddied water and kicked small pebbles along the way, his thoughts roaming ravenously about his mind, the same image popping up in his head every time he thought it was gone. The image of his father leaning against that tree, bidding him goodbye.
'Did he even really care about me? Was what happened on the battlefield a mere heat of the moment act? Or...was he really protecting me?' Trunks wondered to himself. He wished he had had the chance to ask him, but decided alternatively that even if he did have the chance, he more than likely would have found a good excuse to get out of it. The idea of talking on an emotional level with Vegeta was daunting to the man. His father was the last person he'd discuss such personal 'trash', as his father called it, with.
The rain continued to fall and Trunks began to shiver from the cold. Quickly shutting his eyes and concentrating, he gathered his energy and warmed his body with it. He'd learned to do it back in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber when he was training with Vegeta. The memory was still vivid. Usually the more traumatic the memory, the more you remember it. He sighed and walked a little slower as he reminisced.
His father had been firing relentlessly upon large glaciers and blocks of ice while Trunks gritted his teeth from the combination of cold from the Chamber and heat from Vegeta's blasts. He groaned as he fell to his knees, his arms clutching his body in an attempt to ward off the two extremes, failing miserably. The heat wasn't warming him though, so he struggled more from the cold. He shut his eyes tightly and tried his best to will himself back to his feet. He let out a gasp of surprise and his head shot up immediately when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. When he looked up, he was shocked to find Vegeta up close to him, staring at him stoically through those cold onyx eyes of his. Trunks swallowed hard, ready to get lectured for his weakness, and told off. What he didn't expect, however, was for Vegeta to drop down to one knee and get eye level with him.
"You need to gather your energy to conserve heat boy. Now, get up and start your training again. The more you are moving the more heat you will create for yourself." Vegeta explained roughly. He stood abruptly and grabbed Trunks by the arm, yanking him up with him. Trunks gritted his teeth again as he fought to stay up. It was just so cold here.
"No Trunks. Stop that at once! Do as I told you and focus your energy. Pull it together and use it to warm yourself boy!" Vegeta growled in frustration.
"But f-father..." Trunks struggled. Vegeta stood mere centimeters away from him at that point. His glare always stopped Trunks dead. It was so empty, so distant, so uninviting. Colder than even the Chamber itself at that moment. Vegeta put a firm hand to Trunks' chin and continued to stare unflinching at the half-blood. He snarled.
"What did I tell you about stuttering in my presence boy? You are a warrior! If you continue to act like a mere peasant, though, I will be forced to beat you down like one. Now, you came in here to get stronger, correct?" Vegeta questioned menacingly. Trunks swallowed his fears and kept his voice strong this time. He knew better than to screw up a second time with his father.
"Yes." Trunks answered evenly. He nodded for good measure and did his best to match Vegeta's hardened expression with one of his own. True he had the Brief's color palette, but he had Vegeta's facial structure and oh how he looked so much like him. It was still slow to sink in for the prince. He decided he'd better shrug it off for now.
"Good. Then pull yourself together damn it and start processing your energy for warmth. Once you get started, then get back to training. This snow will pass soon enough anyhow." Vegeta concluded. He stood back and the pressure he'd been putting on Trunks decreased somewhat. For the first time since the icy storm had blown in, Trunks felt like he could finally breathe.
He exhaled and inhaled slowly, letting his focus fall on his energy that he had originally restrained for conservation. He frowned deeply, and felt his power bubble up beneath the surface. He finally let it flow within him; not freely of course, but enough to warm him up a tolerable degree. He opened his eyes and could see a slight hint of amusement dancing across Vegeta's eyes. Instinctively, he smiled.
The memory wasn't warm and fuzzy like the ones that included his mother or anything. It was just something that Trunks wanted to keep with him and look back on fondly. Most would believe Vegeta to have been cruel and unforgiving in that moment, but Trunks knew that if Vegeta truly hadn't cared, he never would have looked at Trunks twice much less offer his assistance to the clearly struggling half-Saiyan. This memory was one of few that Trunks could count as his father's kindness toward him.
He chuckled to himself. After weeks of trying to understand what his mother ever saw in Vegeta, Trunks had begun to see it for himself in that Chamber. His actions were never outright caring or anything. In fact, his gruffness threw off anyone who came near him. But of course, his mean temperament could be interpreted as a way of showing affection. Anytime the prince paid attention to someone, it meant you were worth it. It meant he cared about you.
'He used to push me around so hard...but I think he just wanted me to be stronger.' Trunks thought silently. He smiled at that and continued walking. He was pleased when the rain finally stopped falling. He decided he'd let his frustrations out on his training for a while and then head home to sleep it off. He still had a lot of emotions flowing within him, and he needed an outlet for it all.
He managed to get back to Capsule Corp. from his training pretty quickly and flew up to his window to get into bed.
Just as he was crawling back into his window, the lights to his room cut on. He sighed internally and swung his legs past the narrow window sill to meet icy blue eyes glaring craters into him. He grinned sheepishly as he stared back.
"Mom I can explain-" Trunks explained weakly. Bulma put up a hand to cut him off, just as Trunks expected. He knew better than to fight back against Bulma. If he wanted to get out alive, he'd have no choice but to listen to her rant and stay quiet.
"I don't want your explanations son. You might think it's no big deal especially with you being a Super Saiyan and all, but you haven't lived as long as I have Trunks. You haven't seen just how easy it is for things to go wrong. You didn't tell me where you were going or that'd you'd even left. Trunks do you know how scared I was?" she exclaimed exasperatedly. Trunks winced at her tone.
"Mom, I'm sorry okay? I'm just...sorry." he admitted meekly. His eyes widened as he felt arms wrap around him quickly, his face buried in his mother's shoulder.
Bulma sighed sadly. "Out of all the things you inherited from your father Trunks, his knack for trouble is what stands out in you the most." she said softly. Trunks' heart tightened at the mention of his father. Briefly his mind wandered to the location of Vegeta's letter, underneath the bed. He swallowed hard. He didn't want Bulma to know about the letter. He was sure she'd try convincing him to read it, but he knew he just wasn't ready yet.
He pulled away gingerly and looked up at Bulma. "Mom, can I ask you a question about him? You know, since we're on the subject?" Trunks asked nervously. Seeing her act this way so suddenly had him aching to know.
Bulma blinked. "Of course honey. Though, I don't know how much help I will be." she said laughing softly. "It's been years since I've seen him of course, but go ahead."
Trunks bit his lip. How should he word this? He decided to just go for it. "That's ok. Well, my question is..." Trunks took a deep breath to prepare. "Do you still love him mom?"
It was dark out several hours later, the evening sky taking on a blue-black hue as night finally descended on the remains of West City. The occupants of Capsule Corp. had already retired for the night; one more peacefully than the other.
Trunks was tossing and turning almost violently in his sleep. His fears crept over him like the blanket he had on, and had him writhing beneath the pressure. He grit his teeth as his world continued to twist and turn in his head, creating horrible images that scared him half to death.
The ground below was shaking as another explosion went off in the distance. A loud and firm voice broke out amongst the insulting background noise.
"Get your asses down NOW!" he shouted. Trunks squinted. Off far on the battlefield was a massive cloud of dust and debris from the explosion. He covered his mouth to keep from breathing most of it in just as the man next to him began coughing and sputtering violently, a trail of fresh and warm blood trickling down his chin and turning his teeth red. He finally caught himself, struggling to breathe, before looking up slowly at Trunks who stared at him and the blood in fear. The man bleeding turned his gaze into glare at the half-Saiyan and growled savagely.
"What the hell are you waiting for? Get the fuck down!" he shouted. Trunks felt like he couldn't see straight. He knew he had to get down, but couldn't move. His head felt like it was on fire. And that ringing in his ears. Gods how he just wanted it to stop; it was enough to drive him crazy. Angrily he waved his hand at whatever the blur was in front of him, but felt nothing there. Was he hallucinating? Damn it would that ringing stop!
He snapped his head back to the soldier who had cursed at him, about to shout back a retort, but was on the ground in seconds. Pain ripped through him as his head connected with the ground forcefully. Trunks groaned in pain, well aware of another soldier shoving him to the ground as a large explosion went off somewhere nearby.
"You insolent brat, you're gonna get yourself killed!" he shouted on top of him. Trunks gasped, his body trembling as he continued to fight back in vain.
"Get off me!" he screamed, his voice cracked. He shut his blue eyes tightly, trying to force the pain away. The soldier on top of him stood up and grabbed Trunks by the arm roughly, yanking him up. Trunks cursed under his breath from the unexpected action, but recovered quickly as his free hand went up to nurse his other arm. He looked at the soldier who dared have to audacity to smash his face into the ground as the assaulter helped up the man coughing up blood. Trunks' face fell into a snarl of disgust.
"C'mon, there's nothing more to do here kid. Let's go back and report to Lord Frieza." the soldier commanded as he led away the broken down man next to him. Trunks froze at the tyrant's name, his eyes widening in alarm.
'Wha-what did he say? No, this is too wrong! I defeated Frieza!' he thought frantically. His whole body suddenly began to shake with rage. 'What the hell is going on here?'
"Why ain't cha movin' yer ass Trunks? Get on the ship so we can go! We've got a lot of distance to cover and not a lot of time here so you'd better start walkin'!" said another rough and tumble soldier stomping up to him. Trunks rolled his eyes at him and began to stumble towards the awaiting ship about 100 yards away. His body ached and his head throbbed. But nothing grabbed his attention quite like the notion that Frieza was alive.
'I've got to find out what's going on!' he thought urgently.
The whole way to Planet Frieza, Trunks was feeling anxiety well up in his chest. He didn't fear Frieza, no way. He was a Super Saiyan! But something still ate at him painfully. He knew, down in the pit of his stomach and the center of his heart, that something terrible was going on.
The ship eventually docked about 7 hours later. As soon as it had, the soldiers immediately evacuated it. The scruffy soldier who had hurried Trunks along before was now keying in a code to disengage the lock on the door, leading a few others with him. He stopped short, though, and looked at Trunks when he noticed the boy wasn't following him. Growling, he said "You too Trunks. Frieza asked specifically for you kiddo."
Trunks' frown deepened at this. Frieza was calling for him? So he knew his name and where he was. Just what else could he possibly know?
The half-Saiyan nodded solemnly, and followed the band of men headed for Frieza's hall. When they reached it, the soldier repeated the process on the doors that he had done with the other. The doors suddenly lit up, and the men waited uncomfortably as they opened agonizingly slowly. Trunks bit his bottom lip, warily watching Frieza's Hall being revealed.
A soft, eery chuckle echoed off the walls, a slight computerized noise ghosting it. "You may come in."
Trunks recognized the voice automatically and swallowed hard. The men began walking forward cautiously, and as the light shined directly on Frieza and his half metallic body, Trunks felt his heart sinking more and more with every step.
'Damn, it really is Frieza. I can't believe he's alive! Just what the hell is going on here?' Trunks thought furiously.
"Sire," the leading soldier began as he bowed respectfully, "the planet was being ripped apart by the native army, but we managed to stop them and regain control of it for purging. I have already received word just as we were docking that the planet's inhabitants have been restrained and are ready for transport and sale." the soldier explained.
"Excellent. Proceed with the plan as scheduled." Frieza ordered. The men began to leave, but Frieza spoke up. "Oh, Trunks not you. Please stay; we have lots to discuss my friend."
Trunks felt his hands twitch at the term as his anger soared and he took on a dark, foreboding expression just as the soldier left, closing the door behind them. "Listen here, Frieza: I'm no ally of yours. I don't know what the hell is going on here, but I will find out. And when I do, you're as good as dead...if you aren't already." Trunks shot savagely. He couldn't be sure, but he wondered if this were a parallel world to Hell. Sure, it was a possibility.
Frieza grinned sadistically at this and leaned forward, letting his chin rest on his hands in mock interest at Trunks' threat.
"And just how, may I ask, do you plan on killing me without your powers, hmm?" Frieza questioned, feigning innocence.
At those words a cold shock flew through Trunks' body, nearly knocking the wind out of him.
"Wh-what are you talking about?" Trunks shouted angrily as panic struck him. Frieza chuckled again, this time louder.
"Go ahead boy, try to use your powers. They won't work!" Frieza shouted in delight. Oh how he loved to see the immaculate pain and fear in those deep blue eyes.
With caution, Trunks raised his right hand ever so slowly and warily, and began to try gathering energy. He felt his heart race when nothing happened. He cursed himself for not being able to realize his vulnerability sooner. He then peered up at Frieza with renewed panic, his breathing becoming slightly ragged at the thought of being so exposed to this new danger.
Suddenly Frieza barked out a full blown laugh, his eyes lighting up and his maniacal grin growing only wider, much to Trunks' disgust. Eventually his personal joy dissipated, and Frieza was calm again.
"I've made absolutely sure that your Saiyan powers are suppressed. After all, can't have you powering up in here and interrupting the fabulous show!" Frieza exclaimed. Trunks popped an inquisitive brow at those words.
"Show? What show?" Trunks demanded with difficulty. Sick dread invaded his chest and stomach and he had no idea why.
Frieza grinned again and whipped his mechanical tail behind him as he lifted a finger, pointing toward a heavy, blood red curtain against what seemed like a bare wall. But Trunks' observation was wrong, dead wrong.
"Lift up the curtain!" Frieza shouted. In an instant the curtain was pulled back and then up, revealing one of the most shocking scenes Trunks had ever laid his eyes on.
Chained to the wall and covered head to toe in his own blood and sweat, was none other than Vegeta himself. Trunks felt his face go pale, his knees buckling beneath him as he stared helplessly at his father, taking in his physical appearance in horror. The Saiyan Prince wore his old battle armor that he had had on during the fight with Cell. Same cuts and scrapes; same blood stains and dirt smears. The only difference in Vegeta from then and now, was the strange look in the pure blood's eyes. Trunks had never seen that look from his father before: that horrible pleading and begging look. At that moment, something snapped inside Trunks as rage flooded his veins. He realized then just how much he hated to see that look in Vegeta's onyx eyes.
He grit his teeth, grinding them together as he shook from the sheer fury. His hands were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his blue eyes glaring menacingly up at Frieza. There was a cold hatred burning within them.
"You did this to my father, but there's no way I'll let you get away with it!" Trunks threatened. Before he could even think first, he'd always followed his passions and defended against others. Maybe it was the apocalyptic world Trunks had grown up in, but he doubted it highly.
'Impulsive; just like your father.' Trunks' mother had once said. Trunks' heart continued to race.
'Father. I-I'm sorry I wasn't here to stop him.' he silently confessed in his thoughts.
Frieza let out a loud cackle and suddenly descended to the ground from his seat, smiling wickedly at his 'guest'.
"Oh? And just what in the Universe could you possibly do to make me pay for my horrendous deeds without your powers? Honestly I think your impulsiveness is far too foolish for my liking. Did you ever stop and think about that Trunks? Such a silly little monkey." Frieza bullied hatefully.
Trunks' eye twitched as he fought back the urge to slap the tyrant right across his twisted, smug little face. Frieza seemed satisfied, though, that he had taunted him enough and had decided to end his game to finally exact revenge.
Trunks watched, anxious and helpless, as Frieza made his way over to the beaten down Prince. A wave of absolute madness pulsed through Trunks' chest. Without hesitation, he shouted lowly, "Don't you dare fucking touch him."
Frieza continued to walk toward Vegeta, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He reached out to Vegeta and lifted the prince's chin as the chains receded. Trunks bit down on his lip hard, forcing his radical hatred back down but struggling greatly to do so. He had only been this angry one or two times before in his entire life, such as when Gohan had died.
"Now, tell me Trunks: what sound does a proud, dying monkey prince make when he's being ripped in two?" Frieza asked sadistically. Trunks' eyes widened in pure fury. Before he could do anything, though, Frieza raised his hand toward Trunks and fired a wave of energy with enough force to successfully knock the half-Saiyan backwards into a wall.
The tyrant then turned to Vegeta and shoved him in the same direction to the middle of the room. Trunks opened his eyes painfully to watch in horror as Frieza approached the drained, weakened body of his father.
Frieza chuckled again as he reached the prince and simultaneously held Trunks against the wall with an invisible force as he placed a foot on Vegeta's lower back. "I want you to watch me closely, Trunks, as I kill your pathetic, lowly, weak excuse of a father."
"NO!" Trunks screamed as he fought hard to break free from the hold on himself. He had to protect Vegeta. He had to protect his father.
A look of familiar and true, dark ambition crossed Frieza's face and with enough force to break whole planets apart, Frieza shoved his foot down right in the middle of Vegeta's spine. A look of horror, shock, and ultimate pain crossed Trunks' face as Vegeta let out a strangled cry of agony. His spine was nearly ripped in half.
A gloved hand reached out and Trunks ached to grab it. To comfort his father, even though he knew Vegeta didn't want it. To tell Vegeta that everything would be alright. To do anything but sit there and watch the expression of pain on Vegeta's normally cocky, strong face, listening to the sound of his screams. Trunks' shoulders shook as silver tears plummeted down his cheeks and he let out a sob of frustration. He'd never felt more helpless.
He shook his head in shock and disbelief just as Frieza was raising a single index finger toward the prince. The screams had died down and were replaced by Vegeta's labored breathing. He lay completely motionless on the ground, his eyes distant and lost in the void. He had no more feeling whatsoever in any part of his body, and waited patiently for his inevitable death to come. Trunks continued to fight feebly in an attempt to stop the bastard, but was still unable to do so.
"Goodbye, Vegeta." said Frieza as he fired the beam.
./././.
"Father!" Trunks shouted as he shot out of bed. Trunks looked around the now foreign location he found himself in. As realization set in, he felt both relief and dread wash over him, and he sank back down into his bed. His body shook.
"What the hell made me dream something like that?" Trunks wondered shakily. He closed his eyes briefly before a thought came to him and he turned his head to the side to look at his letter from Vegeta, still sitting on his desk. He had removed it from underneath his bed after his conversation with his mother.
Nervousness embedded itself within Trunks and sighed as he reached over to grab the letter. 'I guess I can't keep running from this anymore.' he thought. He opened the envelope, and removed the letter inside.
As he read, he felt his heart tightening. When he finished, he read it over. After that, he decided to reread it one more time for good measure. The words on the page burned themselves into Trunks and he felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The letter was short, but it was genuine. It was real. But best of all, it was from Vegeta.
'Trunks,
I'm proud of you. Take care.
-your father'
He finally caved and let a smile cross his features. He hadn't even noticed his hands beginning to tremble or his eyes cloud over. Vaguely in his still half-sleepy state, he recalled his mother's answer to his question.
"Vegeta? Well, let me tell you something Trunks: life has a funny way of surprising you. Things between myself and your father were never planned and we certainly had our misunderstandings; but it was ok. We didn't pout or hide from each other like I did with Yamcha. We got back at each other and would end up laughing about it because it made things fun. That's true love, Trunks. When you are able to look past each other's faults and not get tired of it, that's when you know. So, to answer your question Trunks, yes; I love your father very much, and probably always will.
Trunks looked back at the conversation fondly and smiled as he realized that what his parents did to deal with each other was the same thing he was doing with Vegeta.
A/N: and that's all! I don't really have an answer as to what made me want to write this, but I did. And now, I've finally cranked it out and can close it. Look on my profile for more upcoming fanfictions on my account. Thanks a ton guys. Don't forget to review before you leave.