Chapter 21--For Survival.



Vegeta knew what he could do.
But would they let him?.... So what if they didn't! What the fuck could they do to stop him?

He savagely paced the wooden floor, shaking his head as the silent woman that sat by the window, stared out of it listlessly. He stopped pacing for a moment and allowed himself to traverse the contours of her curved features. She looked to desolate... So lost.

She was supposed to be strong! How could this have happened to her?!

So many unanswered questions were fettered within his mind, unrelenting in their torment, unyielding in their grief at her condition. It was odd--but he was beside himself with worry...

Worry? Why should he worry! He shouldn't even give a damn about her and yet--yet he did. It was the unexplainable that he did not need or want to be explained.

The door to the room creaked open slowly, and he sensed the woman's mother enter hesitantly, "Vegeta dear, would you like something to eat?" Her voice was low and placid.

He was about to answer with a snide comment but refrained as he stared at the older woman's weary and haggard appearance, glowing softly in the pale moonlight. Her eyes held such emotion, such depth and trauma.

He was surprised. Surprised that the inane creature had finally caught wind of some logical sense in her empty mind... But at what cost?
At the cost of her daughter and God knows what else...

Vegeta had seen many beings with grief stricken faces, he had killed most of them without remorse or guilt, but this woman--this formerly happy, delirious woman who was now in such a state of grief, showed that there were still things alive and present in the universe that brought about the destruction of ones' soul. After all, hadn't he experienced it in Frieza's service..?

"No," he replied softly, watching her nod in understanding.
A spark of amusement floundered in the deep pits of his ebony eyes, as he watched her wring her hands nervously. "Is there more?" He growled out, catching her guilty expression before the weary mask was once more in place.

"I was wondering," she said softly, "If you would like to see Trunks?"

It took him a moment to realize that the woman was speaking about his son.
His son... Trunks. That was a fine name for a warrior, he thought in disgust, but he was secretly pleased--pleased that Bulma had taken her revenge in naming their son so appropriately, as a design to eternally remind him of his failure at... Everything.

Much to his consternation, it worked.
It worked too fucking well.
He inhaled slowly and nodded, "Fine," he grunted out the one-worded response before he could stop himself.

Damn it!

Now he would have to deal with another problem...

He silently followed the blonde-haired woman out of the room, casting a long, lingering glance at the quiet woman seated by the window. She made no move to notice his departure, her face was as cold and still as if it had been cut from pale limestone.
Clenching his fist, he growled.

He would bring her back--he had to.


He has gone...

He has gone to see my son!

I want to scream at him!!

I want to curse at him!!!

I want to pound at his flesh and yell and scream and shriek so that I could say--say that he has no right to see my son!!
Where was he during those cold and long lonely nights as I held that boy to my chest for eight fucking years?!
Where was he when I cried myself to sleep with silent tears, wishing he had been there to save us all from the hell of the Androids... WHERE WAS HE?

I can see the thread of life hanging before me again, taunting me as it sways. I could reach out... I would be able reach out and grasp it.
I could pull myself from this silent, dreamless place and then have my way with him. But I know; I know that I can never return.

Because if I do--If I do, I won't be able to stop them and I...

I will choke on my screams.

Trunks frowned.

His ice blue eyes roamed over the angled features of the man that sat before him; the man that had magically appeared... The man that was his father.
Their faces were a mirror image of one another. The same sharp eyes, the same aristocratic nose, the same jaw line...

The only difference was their coloring.

There was no mistake; this was his father.

A father that he had longed for...
He had tried to find a father in his Sensei Gohan, but it wasn't the same--it just wasn't the same.

From an early age he had pined for a father, and now that he was standing in front him, Trunks didn't know what to do. Should he be jumping for joy? Or should he feel anger at the return of this man he hardly knew... A man his mother had cried over relentlessly for so many nights.

She thought that he was sleeping during those wretched moments in the cold night. But he had been awake... Listening; listening to her gut-wrenching, stomach churning sobs.

It tore at the very fabric of his soul to hear his mother in pain. She was everything to him, she was his world. Without her... Who was he? He needed her... But she wasn't there anymore, at least not mentally.


It was amazing.

Just fucking amazing.

Vegeta stared silently at the miniature replica of himself, covered with fluffy lavender hair and the eyes that were... Her eyes.
To think that because of a part of him, a life had been formed. It was mind boggling, it was awe-inspiring... It was frightening.

The boy was a perfect mix of his features and her color. Was this his punishment from Kami? This half-breed brat...
Trunks sat still, staring at Vegeta with such a degree of intensity, that it reminded the Saiyan Prince of his younger years. Years he did not wish to dredge up from the forgotten graves of the billions of innocents he had slaughtered.

There was no secret to his past; he had taken away lives but never--never had he given life to something... Someone, so--so innocent. So pure.

This was his legacy, this youthful eight year old boy gazing at him with suspicion and... Anger. This was his legacy and it felt good to know that there would be part of him left in the world when he would be permanently gone from it. But did he want the responsibility?

The boy blinked, as if he were washing away a tide of painful emotions. He looked towards his Grandmother, still frowning. "Where's Gohan-sensei, Grandma?"

Mrs. Briefs smiled at him, the former bright light returning to her pale green eyes for a few moments, "He'll be back soon sweetheart."

Vegeta clenched his jaw; why had Kakarott's brat been put on such a high pedestal? Why was he revered and why did Trunks have no clue towards his true heritage?
It seemed that Bulma had told him nothing about Vegeta... And for good reason, but that was still no excuse for not informing the boy of his Saiyan heritage. A future heir to the throne of Bejiita-sei...

The half-breed bastard child he had spawned.

Would his people accept this boy as their Prince? He felt that the second and third generations may accept but the Saiyan Elders, the first generation, may not accept him. It all boiled down to the boy being a half-breed. Even with this knowledge it was still difficult to see the boy revere the only son of his rival.

A small voice in the back of his mind screamed at him; he did not deserve the boy's acknowledgement.

He batted the voice away as he continued his inspection of the boy that sat in front of him, distinctly aware that he had ordered Gohan to inform the Saiyans aboard his ship that they would be remaining on Earth until further notice. He would have gone himself had it not been for shock he had received in meeting Bulma.

Bulma.

He had to force her parents to accept his decision... But the seed of doubt in his mind remained. They may not agree with his plans. The woman's mother may accept. But the father was a different matter altogether.

Vegeta's thoughts turned away as he caught a glimpse of his son eyeing him once more. No sooner had he settled down into the kitchen chair, the food had been laid out for the father and son.
He could see the boy cast secret glances in his direction, making Vegeta smirk. Vegeta unconsciously bared his teeth, causing the young boy to look away with a frown.

Trunks looked down at his food, scowling.

He stood up abruptly, causing the wooden chair to fall back and crash against the tiled floor. His sudden movement afforded him with a curious glance from his Grandmother and a raised eyebrow from his father. It was too much for him to absorb... Why couldn't his mother have told him? Everything had changed...
He wasn't who he thought he was.

He was an alien.

The concept was so strange.

Why hadn't his father been with him? How could he have left his mother to suffer alone!
He growled quietly to himself.

"Trunks?"

The distant voice of his Grandmother brought him back from the chaotic vortex of thoughts threatening to engulf him.

"I'm going to see if Momma's ok," he mumbled under his breath, casting a long final glance at the dark haired man that was watching him closely, as he stumbled out from the enclosed kitchen.

Trunks took a deep breath.

He could sense a hidden power within that man--his father.

There was something dark about him... Something odd. For now, there would be no trust...


Vegeta shook his head.

What words could he have said to the boy? He knew the brat was overwhelmed at the thought of being his son.

He had never been a family man; he never will be. All the brat needed to know was his true heritage and culture. He couldn't deal with the altercations of fatherhood, the demanding stature of the job.
He was a warrior.

Vegeta looked at the ageing woman sitting slightly to one side, "We must discuss Bulma's condition," he started, frowning at the look of concern she rewarded him with.

"What do you think we should do?" Mrs. Briefs asked, clasping her hands upon the table.

"I will be taking her back to Bejiita-sei with me," he replied sternly, letting the woman know that his decision was not up for discussion.

The older woman nodded her consent, "Very well, but you will bring her back, won't you?"

Vegeta pondered on the question briefly. He could lie and they would be none the wiser... "Yes," he answered shortly, "And the boy will join us. It will serve him well to be amongst his people."

She smiled at his response, "Alright, I just have to talk to Bulma's father about it and see what he says. He can be hard to persuade but I'll see what I can do. We'll do anything to have our little girl back," she added brightly.

He nodded and continued to place spoon after spoon of food into his mouth; but as soon as it entered, it all turned to ash.
His plan was to take Bulma back to Dran and see what they could do, surely they must have some remedy for her condition, after all they were an advanced race. From there, they would continue on towards Bejiita-sei and there would be no going back... Earth would be forgotten and he would have his glory as King of the Saiyans once more.

As the moments passed and he continued to eat, his acute senses could pick up a familiar strong ki signature returning to the Capsule Corp. grounds. He would have trouble convincing that nuisance of a boy to stay on the planet, seeing how attached he was to Trunks...
Vegeta felt threatened and cautious. Beneath the power Gohan possessed, a chord in the pit of his stomach twinged at the sensation of power that was emanated from him.

He wondered... Wondered how powerful the boy really was.


Large droplets of rain water fell from the sky, splattering onto the rocky surface of the ground noisily. The heavy, saturated clouds moved against the sky, becoming electrically charged amongst one another.

Bolts of lightning raced towards the ground, leaving the rough surface cracked and destroyed in its wake. The sky flashed wickedly as the boisterous laughter of thunder echoed in the hills.

No creature seemed to stir in the deadly storm...

But as the wind howled, a hissing scream tore through the raging thunder.

An animalistic roar trembled the earth below, shaking and rattling the lonesome trees scattered about the desolate landscape. Something had awakened...

From those screams, a vicious emerald green creature was born.

A creature so deadly and terrifying that all who had encountered it before, suffered the same fatal and brutal death.
With the coming of this monster, it seemed that all hope for the world would be lost.


AN: Once again, I had to divide the chapters because they were so long. Let me take the time out to apologize to everyone about the delay of this chapter. I hope you all liked it. In the next chapter; the shit hits the fan. Literally. But wait... Who is this creature? I'm sure you all know -wink- You didn't think I'd leave him out did you?

Don't forget to look out for Chapter 3 of The Mistress on Sunday!