AN: I noticed that I'm probably spelling Dragonballs wrong, but I like to capitalize it to give it importance, and I don't like to split the two words up, because it just looks like dragon balls and it makes me think of a dragon's balls. Also, they spell it Dragonball and/or Z one word, so I like it like that.

The next time Vegeta heard the radar signal, it came from an eastern direction. He flew until he reached a heavily forested area, right on the coast. When he saw the grass huts, he frowned. Great. Primitive people. When you mixed these kind of people with the Dragonballs, it was never good. They either worshiped it, or the person who had it. It was usually sitting high on a dais with a pillow under it, like a little princeling. Vegeta himself had never even been treated that way.

When he touched down on the ground, there was immediate chaos. It sent him back so swiftly to his youth that he grew dizzy. He clenched his teeth, biting down a cruel laugh as a crowd of villagers ran screaming from him. They must have thought he was the enemy, or some strange god. Either way, he was going to have to curb his ego. He'd promised his daughter that he would wish Bulma back before the day was out, and it was already past noon. He couldn't waste his time here with a bunch of dirty savages.

Unfortunately, a little time had to be wasted with this situation. He was going to have to deal with these people, and not in the way he was used to. They were going to get in his way, and he wouldn't be able to just destroy them. Since he had been brought back to life a second time, he hadn't killed a single person. Once time, Bulma had asked him, jokingly, if he had been forced to make a deal with King Yemma before getting his body back. He'd told her that wasn't the case, but said no more about it. Truth be told, he had made a deal. Not with King Yemma, but with himself. Later, having another child had sealed the deal further. He had one more reason not to kill.

So now he was going to have to negotiate. With savages. And zero charm.

"Show me where your Elder is." He said it calmly, but he was still giving off the wrong impression. He stood up too straight, his eyes were too focused, and he'd demanded rather than asked. Vegeta realized all of these things. And he knew there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. He would always have his pride, and trying to "talk nice" to people bent that pride all out of shape. The young villager trembled like a baby rabbit. He looked ready to bolt any moment. He also didn't seem to know what Vegeta was saying. He'd used the common tongue, but apparently these people didn't speak that. Casting his eyes around the small village, he noticed a few warriors making eye contact with him. They stood far enough away to take a decent measurement of his strength, but close enough to protect their people, should he strike out at the one of them. He saw a tall man wearing a headdress, and he was making subtle hand motions at one of the warriors. That must be their elder. He was using Sign, a popular language with savages. Vegeta nodded to himself. His Sign was pretty rusty, but he should be able to convey what he wanted. First order of business, find where they were keeping the Dragonball. Second...try to obtain it without destroying anyone.

He walked slowly over to the Elder, who was now surrounded with twenty-odd warriors. Even though their power levels were weak compared to his standards, Vegeta had to admit that they looked the part. They glared at him openly, stances wide, spears pointed at him. They wore blood on their faces, and had the deep grooves of ritualistic scars. He would do his best in showing them respect. He was after all, a fellow warrior. He nodded his head slightly at them, hoping to convey that he saw them there, and he was keeping his distance. He made a Sign at the Elder. If he remembered correctly, it was a peaceful sign. At least, he hoped so. He'd memorized the violent ones a lot easier.

The tall man made a gesture back. It recognized the peace sign, and added a question. He wanted to know what Vegeta was doing here. He signaled back with his hands, telling him that he was searching for something valuable. At this, the warriors eyes narrowed and darted between each other. They moved closer to the Elder. When Vegeta was asked what it was he was looking for, he began to get impatient. How would he tell them he needed their Dragonball? He could show them the two that he had, but that would open a whole other avenue that he didn't want to go down. He couldn't let them know just how valuable they were. Everyone had at least one thing they desired, and the Dragonballs always made that desire stronger. About 90% of Earth's population still didn't know anything about the orange was only Bulma's friends and some of Goku's old had enemies that knew, but they were all dead. Vegeta was told not to tell anyone about them, a fact that he already knew through common sense.

Somehow he would have to take it from these people without letting them know their secret. He felt the slight weight of the other two balls in his pocket. They had glowed when they first came into contact with each other, but were now dim. He was thankful that they didn't keep doing that, or it would make things even more difficult. Suddenly, he got an idea.

He told the Elder he was searching for an orange ball, and he'd come to pay his respect. Hopefully, these people considered it a small deity. The Elder's eyes grew wide, but they softened. Vegeta did his best at trying to look humble. He bowed only his head, but it conveyed his message. That was the most respect they would get. He would get down on his knees for no one. The very thought churned up thoughts of Frieza, and made him sick to his stomach.

After a few tense moments, the Elder signaled for him to follow him and his men. Vegeta was a little surprised that he trusted him enough to show him where his house was. Maybe he had been better at the nice guy act than he thought. He followed slowly, letting three of the warriors fall in behind him. As long as they didn't try jabbing him with their spears, he should be able to keep up the charade. When he entered the larger hut, he noticed the chair right away. It was a large, throne-like chair made of a dark, thick wood. Carved into it were elaborate markings. Some of them were stars. Now it made sense why they revered the Dragonball. As for that, it sat up on the top of the chair in a hole that was freshly carved. Someone must have found the ball less than a month ago. This chair wasn't originally designed for such a thing. That made things easier. If they had held onto the ball for years, it would be harder to take it from. Luckily, the last time anyone had used them was 5 years ago. No village held onto one long enough for it to become an ancient heirloom. As soon as Vegeta spotted the Dragonball, he let himself relax. He would make a show of pretending to "show his reverence" putting the warriors into a state of calm. Then he would make his move.

He made rapid gestures with his hands, as if he were excited, and smiled. Some of the warriors seemed to relax a bit, but most of them remained guarded. The Elder in particular kept his eyes narrowed. They were starting to see through his story. Who was he? How would he have known about their orb? What village did he come from? How did he know how to Sign? Vegeta knew there were plenty of holes in his story, but he planned to act fast and be out of here before it got too violent. He bent one leg as if he would kneel, feeling the small ki of the warriors on each side of him. At the last possible moment, he put all his weight on one hand, slicing the air with his right leg. It hit one warrior in the ankles, knocking him down. A split second later, he struck the warrior on his other side in the kneecap with his left fist. All of this was done so quickly that the Elder and his other men could barely react. Then he leapt up onto the seat of the chair and grabbed the Dragonball. It was the 5 star, and as soon as he held it, it tried to invade his mind. Snarling, he dropped it into his pocket. Even when Bulma was not here, memories of her tried to distract him. Now the warriors had become violent. They had seen enough of his strength to keep back from him, but the room was large enough for them to attack him from there. They had bows as well as spears, and they were launching thick arrows at him. He dodged them all, and they drove deep into the chair. Four of the men were surrounding the Elder, but the others were concentrating on Vegeta. They stood by the door, blocking his exit. He would either have to blow past them or...He looked up, remembering that the huts were made out of grass. The warriors smirked, thinking he was trapped. He chuckled low in his throat, putting them on guard again. As two more were re-knocking their bows, Vegeta bent his legs until he was squatting over the dirt ground. Then he shot up, unbelievably fast, right through the roof. He soared up over the village and watched in amusement as the warriors flooded out of the hut, shooting more arrows at him. The highest one didn't even reach his foot. He laughed and launched himself still higher in the air. When he glanced back one last time, he was reminded of an ant hill that had just been poked with a stick. The idea put him in a better mood than before.

This time Vegeta found a quiet place to land before he reached in for the 5 star ball. It was nestled in his right hand pocket with the two other balls and the radar. He had enough room for one more in that pocket, and then he would put the other three on the left side. He sat down on the edge of a rocky cliff overlooking the sea. Then he brought the orb out, cupped it tightly in his hands and closed his eyes. Now that he knew what to expect, he welcomed the memories of Bulma. (On his terms, anyway.) He was very grateful for the magic that would bring her back, as he was already starting to miss her. She was no longer a weakness to him, but a strength. He smiled, waiting.

Goku had died about a week ago. Vegeta was in a state of mind that he had only been in once before. It was a state of utter defeat. It put him right back there with the way he had felt when he recognized Frieza's limitless, unholy power over him. He had felt it like black ink seeping into his veins. Utter, dark, despair. With Goku gone, he was the last known Saiyan. There was no goal to reach for. No reason to fight. His physical endurance was drained away, and his mental battle was caught in a losing streak. He even contemplated suicide. Thoughts of pushing all his power to the limits entered his mind. He could do it. He'd just have to let it all go in one blast, burning himself up from the inside. He would have thought about it further if it was just his life he was responsible for. But there was his son. A strong, brave boy, whom he had seen reach adolescence already. The Trunks from the future had opened many doors in his mind. The most important one was that he had to live. He had to be there for the boy. Vegeta's own father had died, and he didn't relish the idea of doing the same thing to that clever, remarkable boy. Trunks was a perfect hybrid of his parent's traits. He had Vegeta's pride and strength. Then he had Bulma's warmth and intelligence. He was deeply proud of him in a way that no one would ever know. Even if the future Trunks was gone now, he could start all over again with the toddling baby. When things looked especially black for him, when he felt hopeless, he would find the boy. He was subtle about it. He would search out the small ki and hide somewhere. Mostly, Trunks was with his mother or grandparents. When that was the case, he would only stay for a moment, marveling in the pure, fresh energy. The baby was like a clean slate, and the feeling bled into him like a warm flame. Then there was Bulma. She wasn't sure what to do with Vegeta, now that he wasn't himself. He was sure that she was attracted to only the fighter's spirit in him, and he really couldn't blame her, so he left her alone. Some nights, he would lay there in one of the guest rooms, craving her touch. He had only been with a her a handful of times before, but he remembered each and every one of them. One time, he even woke up with his leg thrown over a pillow. It repulsed him how much he wanted her. Needed her. He'd never felt this way before in his life! Why was she so special, so important? And now that she was the mother of his child, it made him want her even more. She had made life with him. A strong, healthy child. She was like his queen.

Then, one night, not being able to control himself any longer, he had found her in her room. She was still awake. He opened the door like he belonged there, even though had serious misgivings. What if she made him leave? He wasn't the same Vegeta she had found so alluring. He didn't have the same wild power, and even his stamina felt low, a guttering candle. If she had wanted that, she would have stayed with Yamcha. He could tell she was startled at first, but then she had carried on doing what she was doing. She had her laptop open, and was typing as if he wasn't even there. It was almost like she was challenging him, to see if he still had the strength to make himself known. But he wasn't up to a challenge. He turned to walk away, and accidently, a deep sigh had escaped him. He could even feel tears of frustration pricking his eyelids. He had only wanted to be in her presence, anyway. Why was he being so damned sensitive? Before he could open the door again, her felt her behind him. Her warm hand was on her shoulder. Even that soft touch felt so good to him. He turned around, looking her in the eye. Something about his expression made her face crumble, and then she was holding him. Just that brisk movement, her arms wrapping around his narrow waist. It was all it took for him to feel...wanted. He stood there for a long time, letting her hold him. He didn't try to figure out why it felt so good. He just let it happen. It was like he had been somewhere that was bitter cold and wet. He'd had to trudge through it, year after year, and suddenly, there was a light in the distance. A warm, pure glow from a fire. Sitting next to the fire, letting it warm you all the way to the core, after you had almost forgotten what it felt like to be warm...that was what her embrace felt like. He wrapped his own arms around her, and she had held on tighter. Then, she drew away just enough so she could see his face. Their lips were inches apart. They had never kissed. Until that moment, their feelings for each other had been pure passion. There had been no kissing, caressing or holding. And she had seemed okay with that. But now he really wanted to kiss her. His lips found hers easily, and she responded in a way he wouldn't have imagined. Somehow, while he was weak, she wasn't repulsed by him. Her kiss actually felt uplifting, like she was giving him strength. They stayed like that for a long time, holding and kissing each other. He was sure he would feel foolish later, but at that moment, it was the only thing his body and mind craved.

When he woke up in the morning, he was in her bed. They both had their clothes on, and...her body was folded into his. He remembered very clearly how the sun had hit her face through an opening in the curtain. He put a hand in her sky-blue hair and just watched her. The night before, after they had kissed, they had talked. He couldn't recall everything, but in the end, she had gotten him to stay with her and Trunks. To be part of a family. And, though he would have misgivings about it from time to time, he really did want to stay.