AN: A little later than usual with an update. Apologies – RL needed some attending to. Not only am I late with the chapter, but it's I think the shortest one to date… Though this does mark (I think) a shift in the story that will pick up momentum in the next chapter (which I already dread the number count on… I suspect I may have to break it into two chapters).

And apologies in advance – I can guarantee there won't be an update next week since Mass Effect 3 comes out and I won't be doing much of anything else… But after that, a weekly update schedule will be (hopefully) adhered to.

This is the first chapter I've done where perspectives change. I tried to make it clear whose POV it was for each section. As always, enjoy and thanks for the support.

Lost But Found

Chapter 10: Caught

Wake up. Train. Eat. Train. Eat. Spend time with the boy. Train. Eat. Spend time with the woman. Sleep. Repeat.

It was the schedule that had come about in the wake of the Cell Games. After coming to terms with the fact that he may somewhat, at least a little, care about Bulma and Trunks, it had become necessary to incorporate them into his life. The routine had been set for months, had provided the foundation on top of which he could build his life here on Earth.

That girl was the only thing that was off in the simple little world he'd come to expect. She stuck out in so many ways. The mere fact that he even knew she existed was alone proof that she wasn't normal. She'd insinuated herself into their lives - his life, confound it all - and he was the only one who seemed to care. Who even seemed to notice.

And then he'd heard his son say those words. When he thought about how the fuck his son could have learned them, his mind automatically went to her. She was the only thing that was strange. She was the only thing that didn't fit.

One of these things is not like the others. One of these things just does not belong.

He'd so easily determined her to be the cause, that he had overlooked the obvious problem.

How the hell could that girl, that pathetically human girl, have learned Saiyan?

Vegeta spent days and days obsessing over it. She didn't look Saiyan. Didn't act Saiyan. Had no ki to speak of. She seemed human enough, even if she was a misfit. But the pieces didn't add up and he could not let it go. Years of paranoia made it impossible for him to do so.

In the end, he decided there was only one thing for it. Before he worried about whether she was a telepath or an alien or something equally absurd, he needed to prove that she was in fact the source of his son's new found knowledge.

But how?

They'd called him a brilliant tactician. One of the best. He'd probably be the first to agree with them. Yet if you looked at his plan, the little "trap" he'd set, you'd laugh at the absurd simplicity of it.

He'd speak, she'd respond, he'd know.

One, two, three. As simple as that.

But it had taken him time. Time to come up with the right conditions, the right word. Things had to be perfect. If the situation was wrong, it would tip her off to his suspicions. If the word was wrong, she might not even notice. Might not even react. Chances are, he'd only get one opportunity to try before she put her guard up.

It was lunch at Capsule Corps. The old man had provided a large amount of food for the employees, celebrating some ridiculously boring and mediocre event that passed as an accomplishment with these people. Damn near a hundred people in the large cafeteria near the labs. All talking. All trained by years of experience with the Saiyan to absolutely ignore him if possible. All busy enjoying their little "festivity."

All but the girl, of course. She hovered near a group of scientists. She feigned interest in their conversation as she pushed her food around her plate like she always did when Vegeta was around. Her smiles, her laughs, her words of agreement might have been right, but as someone equally skilled in deception, they rang false to him.

Blending in was hard. He tried not to attract too much attention to himself, but even when they were pointedly ignoring him, the employees seemed to subconsciously know to give him a wide berth. It helped that there was food. It gave him an excuse for being there if the old man or Bulma wondered. Voluntarily coming to the labs was something he did so rarely he could probably count how often it happened on one hand.

He'd spent a lot of time thinking about what word to try. It had to be generic enough that anyone who spoke Saiyan would know it, but specific enough that she would instinctively react to it. In the end, there was really only one word he could think of. All he had to do was find the right time…

Vegeta waited, patiently, until he was sure she had forgotten his presence. Let him fade into the background like everyone else.

He licked his lips slowly, anticipation flowing out with each breath. Yes. This was it.

"Girl," he barked gruffly, putting the same tone behind it he used when calling Bulma "woman" or Trunks "boy" or even Dr. Brief "old man."

While no one else in the room reacted, she looked over to him as instantly and reflexively as if he had just called her name. They locked eyes and he could see the instant she recognized her lapse, and the instant she was able to cover it up. She arched her eyebrow at him, as if in challenge, then turned back to the others with a smile on her lips.

Yes, then.

It was her.

Now he just needed to figure out what he wanted to do about it.

Bra's ears were buzzing. There was a faint red at the corners of her vision and she was pretty sure she was close to hyperventilating. Oh, and she definitely wanted to throw up.

Shitshitshitshitshit.

He knew. Vegeta fucking knew.

She took another drink, wishing it was something stronger than seltzer, and smiled through her teeth at someone's joke that she hadn't even heard. She couldn't hear anything over her heart pounding.

After all this time, after being so careful… She'd spent all her time trying to keep her mother off her trail, she hadn't realized how close her father had been. But she should've known something was off. He was too hostile. She'd let it go because, well, her father could be hostile. Every time he tried to goad her into an argument, she'd try not to look too amused. Sometimes it was hard not to fight back, but she needed his attention on her like a whole in the head. But it seems it wasn't his general dislike for strangers. The whole time he'd been suspicious. And now he knew.

She noticed her hand was shaking as she took another bite. Slowly, she closed it into a fist and forced herself to stop.

Calm the fuck down. He doesn't know shit. Dad might know something, but there's no fucking way he knows this.

But what could he possibly know?

1. I don't fit in. Guess it takes an outsider to recognize another outsider.

2. I work for Dr. Brief. But he's never given a shit about anything related to Capsule Corps if it doesn't have to do with the GR. He has seen me in the lab, but he can't know what I'm working on because, quite frankly, only Dr. Brief does. But if he did mention it to Mom and she didn't know, that might make him suspicious.

3. He hasn't noticed my ki flares. Either he thinks it's whatever I'm working on, or he just hasn't noticed at all. If he starts getting paranoid, he might be able to figure out it's actually me doing that.

4. He spoke Saiyan to me. He knows I speak Saiyan. With the dark hair, he might possibly think I am Saiyan. Except for the eyes. But I've kept my ki down when I know he's paying attention (need to work on the tantrums…). He probably would've outright tried to fight me if he thought I could handle it. Most likely, he's just pulling straws.

5. I watch Trunks. By itself, that's meaningless. But I bet that's how he knows I speak Saiyan… Guess I'll have to have a talk with the poor kid and figure out how to do some damage control from there.

Overall, she was sure she was mostly in the clear. There was enough to make her stand out, sure, and that was dangerous enough in her circumstances, but Vegeta couldn't possibly have put together who she really is. All he had was suspicions and a vague mistrust of her that he probably could barely justify to himself. She might have given him a little more just now, but he didn't have enough clues to put "speaks a dead alien language" with "daughter from the future."

At least not yet.

Guess it was just her luck that the person who was usually her strongest ally was now her biggest problem.

"Well?"

Bra's attention snapped back to the conversation at hand. The biologist from 3A, the lab down the hall from her. Friendly, relatively handsome, put together. Bulma had introduced her to him a week ago at a staff brunch. She frowned at him as she tried to focus. What did he just say?

She replayed the conversation over in her mind. Dinner. He'd asked her to dinner.

Her nose wrinkled slightly at the very idea. Dinner with a man who in her time was roughly her parents' age. Lovely. And not at all creepy.

Instead of outright refusing, she decided to be diplomatic and hope he took the hint. "You're a little old for me."

He laughed somewhat nervously. It was a good laugh, one that would probably have been quite charming if the circumstances had been different. If they had been forty years different. "I'm sure I'm not that much older than you are. Maybe four, five years. How old are you, anyway?"

Negative ten.

"Old enough that I don't like being asked how old I am." When she didn't say anything else, he took the dismissal for what it was and left, looking slightly abashed.

Now alone, Bra subtly searched the room for her father. If he'd been watching her, she hoped her reaction was "human" enough that it hadn't helped him figure her out.

Though you'd have to be a mind reader to figure this one out.

But he'd apparently left. His ki was well away from the business side of the building. Good. Distance would be helpful. And a game plan. She needed a game plan.

Pull it together. You need to cut back on going to the house. You need to avoid being alone with Dad, period. Hell, avoid Mom too. You need to – ABOVE ALL – finish that goddamn machine ASAP.

Right. Let's get this shit done.