Bardock sighed deeply as he lowered himself to the ground. It was time for a break.

He ran a white-sleeved arm across his sweaty brow, then looked down to inspect himself. This outfit was a goner. Then he cast a glance over to his son, who was moping in the dirt a few feet away.

Bardock huffed. He was no stranger to grief. His own father had died when he was sixteen, leaving him to provide for his mother and infant brother. They hadn't been particularly well-off to begin with, but when his father died money became the driving force in his life, pushing him to work harder and get stronger until he became the youngest crew leader in the history of Saiyan "cooperation" with the Cold Empire.

Bardock shot his son a dirty look. The kid had it easy by comparison. If nothing else, at least he only had to worry about himself.

He rubbed his face again. When he arrived the sun was just beginning to rise, and now it was high in the sky and he had so far managed to erect half a wall. This wouldn't do at all. He had only one Earth day to get his son over this hump; the Supreme Kai had been very clear on that point. He'd said a lot of other things too: "you mustn't reveal your true relationship to him," "you mustn't tell him your name," "you mustn't tell him his name," on and on and on – couldn't have told him how to build a stupid house, could he?

It was his own fault. They'd wasted too much time – first digging around looking for clothes that had survived the carnage, then the boy was hungry so they'd gone to a nearby river and spent a good couple hours fishing and eating, then they'd spent another few hours clearing away the debris so they'd have a foundation to work on, and that was when the boy had found one of the old man's tunics and started crying again.

Pushing himself up, Bardock brushed the dirt off his clothes and marched over to where his son was moping. He took a deep breath. Patience, patience was key. Be nice, he told himself. What would Gine do?

"Look boy, I know you are…sad, but you're going to have to help me fix your house if you want to sleep under a roof tonight."

Kakarot sniffed pitifully. "I want Grandpa."

Bardock blinked at him. Great, just great. "I thought we agreed you were going to be strong for your grandfather?"

"Yes, bu…but…," Kakarot sniffed again, louder this time, "I want Grandpa! Why did he leave me?"

"He didn't leave you," Bardock said, sitting down next to him. "He died." This prompted more crying.

Bardock searched frantically for something comforting to say. He'd had better conversations with Raditz! At least he didn't cry all the damn time.

"Look, your grandfather's not really gone."

Saiyans had some interesting, and ultimately wrong, ideas about the afterlife. Not that they believed in in an afterlife, but they believed that when you died and were buried, your essence – that special something that gave you a unique scent and identity and feel, what humans would call a soul – seeped into the soil around you, infusing the surrounding landscape with that essence. If you died in battle, so much the better: your strength would be the first thing to be absorbed into the earth, making everything around it, including the people born on it, stronger and more powerful.

Bardock hadn't been very convinced of this theory since his father had died, and clearly Saiyans had been seriously misinformed about life after death, but if it would get the kid to stop crying it was worth a shot.

Sure enough, Kakarot wiped his tears. "He's not? Wh…where is he?"

"He's here," Bardock waved a hand vaguely over the landscape. "In…the area…"

Kakarot scrambled to his feet. "Where? Grandpa? Grandpa!"

Bardock watched as his son shot from one place to the next, frantically calling out for his grandfather. The boy had taken him a little more literally than he'd anticipated, and Bardock didn't know what he would do if the boy started bawling again once he realized that his grandfather wasn't here after all.

Struck by inspiration, Bardock jumped to his feet and rushed over to the pile of debris they'd pushed out and away from where the house was supposed to stand and began furiously digging through it, trying to find something of the old man's. People did that sometimes; they would hang on to some meaningful possession of the dead as a way of keeping their essence in the house and around their family. His mother had kept his father's old boots on the mantle in their house, he remembered. Now if only he could find something in here that wasn't broken while the kid was still running around the forest looking for his dead grandfather.

A glimmer caught his eye as his burrowing dislodged something from under a pile of broken furniture. Bardock pulled at what looked like a bedsheet away from the sheen, and a small golden globe slid out from under the wood and rolled out onto the dirt.

Bardock picked up the curious object, holding it up to the sunlight and watching the rays dance off its smooth surface. It had four small stars drawn on it and was unexpectedly heavy.

He tossed it into the air, watching it with a kind of childlike glee, forgetting for a second the child whose grief he was supposed to be helping ease. The ball had an entrancing quality about it – all the better for what he wanted it for, as far as he was concerned. And it was probably the only thing of value the old man had ever owned.

"Hey Kaka…," – damn it – "hey boy!" Bardock yelled out. "Boy! Come here! BOY!"

Kakarot rushed out from behind the trees, his eyes wide and earnest and darting everywhere. "Did you find him? Where is he? Grandpa?"

"Listen," Bardock said, approaching him. He bent over slowly, meeting his son's gaze. "You have to understand that your grandfather is dead, alright? He is not going to return. But," he said quickly as the boy's eyes began to fill with tears again, opening his hand to reveal the golden orb he'd found, "he left you this."

Fat tears fell from Kakarot's eyes as they focused blurrily on the object. His mouth opened slightly as he stared at it. "Uhhhh…what is it?"

"It's…something very special." Bardock wracked his mind for ideas. "It's, uh, it's very precious," he said lamely. What was he going to say? It was a golden round thing! "Your grandfather left it for you to remember him by, and there's a part of him in it."

Kakarot cupped the ball in both hands gently, his mouth making an "O" of surprise. "Really?" he whispered.

"Yes. As long as you have this, your grandfather will always be with you."

Kakarot took the ball carefully from him, bringing it up to his face to examine it carefully. "I'll take good care of you Grandpa, I promise!"

Bardock sighed heavily. This kid had even less of an imagination than he did. "Now, you really need to help me finish this house."

"Okay!" Kakarot rushed away, placing the ball gently on the ground. "Stay right here, okay Grandpa? I'll be right back!"

Later, when the sun had set and heavy clouds blanketed the night sky, Bardock stretched his sore muscles and watched his youngest son sleep peacefully in the bed he'd made for him from a few pieces of wood that had been in good shape. Things had turned out better than he'd anticipated: there were four walls and a roof, and they'd even had time to take the clothes and sheets they'd found and wash them in the river. Kakarot had been particularly excited when he found a stick in the debris, and Bardock had to admit the thing was pretty cool, given that it could extend almost indefinitely.

And now it was nighttime, and his day back in the mortal world was in its last hours.

His day with his son.

Bardock settled down on the bed he'd made, where his son now slept with the golden ball tucked against him. The boy rolled over, snoring gently, his limbs splayed out.

Bardock found himself reaching out to touch the boy, the tips of his fingers resting on his bare legs. He was warm, and soft and pudgy in that way children are, and it reminded Bardock of the first time he'd held Raditz.

Fatherhood was not something Bardock had ever aspired to. They'd started taking away children who weren't "strong enough," an arbitrary definition Bardock was now convinced was Frieza's first attempt at getting rid of the Saiyans. But Gine was always an optimist and she'd wanted children, plural, and he couldn't say no to her.

Raditz had been small and weak and vulnerable and reminded him too much of his little brother. He'd been whiny too, and needy. But he'd also been soft and warm and eager to please, and Bardock remembered now with a stab of remorse how hard he'd always been on him.

Carefully, so as not to wake the sleeping boy, Bardock lay next to his son. Their shoulders touched, and Kakarot's tail tickled his side as it twitched in his sleep. Bardock would not sleep. These last hours were too precious to waste. No, he would stay awake and watch over his little boy, envisioning the man he would one day become, the man he had seen so clearly face off against the tyrant who had shattered their world and their lives, and thank his mate and the stars and the gods and whatever else was out there that had ensured the life and health of this child.

Meanwhile, Gohan had been judged to be a pure, kind soul and was directed to heaven by one of the blue demons under King Yemma's employ.

"Here you are, sir! Enjoy your stay in heaven!"

"Thank you. Um, may I ask," Gohan reached out a hand to stop the man, who was walking away.

"Yes?"

"Well, you see, I had a little boy that I was taking care of back on Earth, and well…"

"Oh, I see," the blue man gave him a sympathetic smile. "Yes, we get a lot of this. People asking after the ones they've left behind. I don't know what to tell you, except that I'm sure someone will come along and take care of him."

"See, that's just the thing. The area we lived in is quite remote, and he really doesn't know anyone except me. I'm quite confident that he can take care of himself, but he…," Gohan paused for a moment. "Well, it's hard to explain…"

The demon leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "Bit of a troublemaker?"

The old man sighed. "I suppose you could say that, although it's really not his fault. He just doesn't know his own strength. And," this time it was Gohan who lowered his voice, "I mean he really doesn't know."

"Hmm…" The demon examined the old man carefully, then sighed. "Tell you what, you're obviously a nice old man. If you really want to keep an eye on your boy, your best bet is Fortuneteller Baba. She's a tiny old lady, pink hair, floats around on a crystal ball. You can't miss her. She's a nasty old bat if you want my opinion, but she's from Earth too so maybe she'll do you a favor."

"Fortuneteller Baba, eh? That sounds familiar. Well, thank you very much, you've been most kind."

The demon smiled at him. Turning away, he wished him good luck.

A/N: Thank you to all of you who read and reviewed this little story! Merry Christmas to all those who celebrated, and stay tuned for the next and final installment of this short.