A/N: Okay everybody, this was the first fanfic that I ever wrote. I've redone it so many times and, to be honest, I'm still not 100 per cent about it but I've put it up here anyway for you to (hopefully!) enjoy. I hope I've kept them in character but I'll let you guys decide for yourselves. Bear in mind that this was my first one and, since this was written, I like to think I've improved! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Hmmm...Everyone seems to do one of these, so I'll guess I'll do one too. I don't know much about copyright stuff but I do know I don't own Dragonball Z. There! That wasn't too hard!

My Son

Memories of a Boy

This could have gone better, thought Vegeta as Majin Buu held him to the floor in a cocoon of what resembled pink bubblegum and pounded mercilessly on Vegeta's face. It didn't help that the pink cocoon only seemed to get tighter, restricting his airflow and his ability to cry out.

Bleakly, Vegeta could only think of how Kakarot would probably have been able to stop him by now. It only heightened his anger. But, anger would do no good now, he realised as Buu rolled him to the side and began to stomp on the left side of his already tattered body. Strategy, he thought to himself. How can I get out of this one?

He began to yell as the pain began to increase. I can't take much more of this! He thought desperately. Vegeta tried to focus on ignoring the pain and work out a solution when suddenly he felt a dramatic increase in a further-off ki begin to surge upwards, heading straight for the battlefield. It was a kihe knew well. Trunks, no! Vegeta thought, in panic. He can't be coming here! It's too dangerous, he'll be killed!

-

It hadn't been easy for Vegeta, admitting that he cared for someone other than himself. At first, it had started with Bulma and he was so angered at the warm feeling in his chest and twisting nervousness in his stomach whenever he saw her that he even put a few thousand miles in between her and himself out in the cold and lonely depths of space. But, it could not stop his mind straying to her every few minutes, wondering if she was alright and if she was thinking of him.

In the end, though, he had accepted the truth. After all, it was only natural. He was the Prince of All Saiyans; of course he'd have to carry on the royal bloodline and, obviously, Bulma was the best one to offer him this, his perfect match, designed for each other completely.

However, after Trunks was born, Vegeta was afraid. He'd never admit it to anyone, not even to his mate, but he was frightened of his new responsibility. Oh sure, put him up against monsters like Frieza and Cell, not a problem. But ask him to change a nappy or hold his son, and the sweat starts rolling. He was afraid of being a useless father or worse, turning into his own, and so decided to distance himself from his mate and newborn child.

He thought back fondly to the turning point. It was shortly after his son from the future had returned to his own time after the Cell Games.

He'd been in the kitchen and fixing himself a snack. Bulma was in there as well with Trunks, who had been gurgling grumpily, unhappy at being contained in the high chair. It made Vegeta's heart ache to see them and pretend to want nothing to do with them. Bulma had seemingly long since gotten over Vegeta and his careless attitude towards their son but Vegeta knew that she felt exactly the same way as him. She missed him and he was angry at himself for putting her through all of it.

"Umm...Vegeta?" she'd asked him quietly.

"What?!" he snapped in reply.

"Can you watch Trunks for a sec? I just need to get something from upstairs," Bulma pleaded.

"Whatever." Vegeta turned away, uninterested and went back to his lunch.

"Thanks!" Bulma had cried, happily, disappearing down the hallway.

He picked up his finished sandwich and glanced once at his son. The boy's lavender hair was cooped up in a little blue cap with the exception of one loose strand falling at the centre of his forehead. His blue eyes were narrowed by lavender eyebrows and he wore a displeased expression on his face. The little boy raised his small arms up at his father.

"Daddy, up!" he demanded eagerly.

Vegeta almost dropped the plate in shock. He had never heard his son talk before and he knew no one else had either. Bulma had been going on for weeks about how he hadn't yet said a single word, much less formed a sort-of sentence like Vegeta had just heard.

"Daddy, up!" Trunks growled, impatient now.

Vegeta put his sandwich on the table and stalked over to the bright red high chair, smirking.

"Alright, boy. You want out? Show me what you can do first, then I'll let you out of that thing!" Vegeta said, laughing inwardly at his own foolishness.

The surprise on his face was undisguised when he looked down. Little fists clenched and a determined expression on his face, the whole room began to shake as the little boy began to power up. Glass in the cupboards was shattering and assorted kitchen utensils were falling off of the sides. Bulma was going to throw a fit. Suddenly, Trunks sighed and let his hands fall back down to his sides, power level dropping back to normal and the violent shaking ceasing.

Vegeta looked around him at the destructed kitchen. He couldn't have been happier to see such a messy sight. This boy's got promise, he thought, proud of his son's immense power. At such an age, as well. Incredible! He faced his son again, half-expecting to see him worn out and asleep from using up such a power.

Once again, he was disproved when he saw Trunks gazing up at him, although his face was softer and his eyes were drooping.

"Daddy, up," he pleaded, exhausted.

Vegeta didn't know what was guiding him, but he went with it. He unclipped the buckles restraining Trunks in the high chair and lifted him up to his chest. He drew his head back a bit in shock when Trunks leaned his own head in and rested it in the crook of Vegeta's neck. Trunks' small face was warm and Vegeta could feel his sleepy breaths tickling his neck. There it was again; that warm, fuzzy feeling, lingering in his chest. He stroked his son's back softly and listened to the rise and fall of his chest as he fell asleep.

"What the-?!" Bulma squeaked in surprise at the ruined kitchen, suddenly reappearing in the doorway. "Vegeta, what hap-?" she began. Before she could finish, however, Vegeta cut her off.

"He said his first words," he said, eyes not meeting her face as he looked around guiltily.

"Really? He did?!" Bulma began to laugh happily. Vegeta sighed in relief inside his head at being able to distract her so easily.

"Hey!" Vegeta barked suddenly, amongst Bulma's excitable laughter.

"What?" she asked, a hint of irritation present in her tone.

"He's asleep," Vegeta said, softly. He started to take his son up to his cot upstairs when he paused by Bulma in the doorway. Her mouth was slightly open in disbelief and shock when she saw her son in Vegeta's arms. Gently, so as not to jostle Trunks, he planted a small kiss on her neck and walked past her. He remembered being unable to hide his grin up the stairs.

They were a family.

Now, all that was going to be ripped apart if Trunks was killed.