Disclaimer: DBZ does not belong to me. I am not making any money off this, etc, therefore it would be completely pointless to sue me over this one little fanfic. Also, to answer a question I've been asked about twenty times, no, I had never, ever read Ender's Game before writing this story. Whatever similarities between this fanfic and OSC's writings are purely coincidental, believe it or not.
Fire and Ice
written by Anderea
speak2005@hotmail.com
Chapter Two, The Arrival
Ender mouthed the name, sliding her hands into her jacket pockets as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. Alec. She shook her head, turning away. Impossible. No Saiyan would allow their child to be given a human name. It was degrading. Humiliating. Admitting that a child was unfit for the warrior life.
[He's lying, then.]
Her lips thinned, a mental finger pressing her power level down to curb her irritation. So he wasn't as naïve as he looked; he knew enough not to give out his real name to a total stranger. Not bad for someone who was incapable of keeping his emotions in check. Who couldn't act Saiyan even if he tried. Who couldn't hide his-
She stopped at that thought.
The ki signature. Alec couldn't hide his ki signature.
Ender shook her head. How long had she been keeping track of the highest power levels on Earth? A long time. Since she heard about Goku. Since she'd found that there were other, stronger Saiyans who had survived Frieza's mass murder. Since she'd finally figured out how to conceal herself well enough to be able to follow these men without them noticing.
So, in all those years of tracking multiple ki signatures, in all those years of compiling information on the strongest fighters on Earth, how the hell had she managed to miss a power level as high as Alec's?
[Simple. You assumed.]
Stupid. She exhaled a breath in a hiss, studying the rocky ground. She'd been stupid to assume that she'd found every single potential threat on this tiny planet, stupid to overlook this Alec, stupid to allow herself to relax. Stupidity meant mistakes, and mistakes got you killed. Or hurt. Or-
The memory fought its way to the surface of her mind and Ender closed her eyes against it, hands grabbing a handful of denim and clenching.
* * * * *
[It's almost funny, watching mother with another man,] Trunks thought, glancing over in Yamcha's direction. He looked away, trying not to wince as he saw the human slide an arm around Bulma's waist. [Almost.]
They looked happy, dammit. They looked like they were in love. And under any normal circumstances, Trunks might have wished this nameless, faceless couple the best of luck.
But these weren't normal circumstances and Yamcha wasn't his father.
So how did Vegita fit in this?
* * * * *
Vegita crossed his arms over his chest, trying to ignore the giggling noises coming from behind him. Idiot humans. They were so variable. So inconstant. One second the woman would be screaming at Yamcha. The next, Yamcha would be threatening to leave. Then, two minutes later, they'd be hugging. Or worse, kissing. In public! It was bad enough having to endure their arguments, but having to endure their sappiness?
He hissed, forcing his eyes forward. Unfortunately, that put the girl right in front of him. Vegita watched her through narrowed eyes, watched the translucent beads of sweat forming on her temples, the hard set of her jaw, the white-knuckled hands, and snorted, looking away.
Crazy girl. Probably psychotic.
* * * * *
For the second or third time that day, Gohan glanced up to find the white-haired man's eyes on him. The demi-Saiyan ignored the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach and stared back until the man smiled, one side of his lips curving upwards, and looked away.
Gohan shook his head, turning his back on the stranger. The man's gaze didn't bother him. No, Gohan was used to the stares, the whispered comments between bystanders as they gawked at the muscles lacing his deceivingly small form. But this man's eyes didn't hold surprise, or amazement. Rather, they held...familiarity. Warmth. Like he was looking at a friend he hadn't seen for a long time.
And Gohan was pretty sure that he'd never met this man before.
* * * * *
[_Shit_.]
Ender's hand went up to her forehead, fingers brushing her temples in a futile effort to dampen the pain. Headache. Another head-pounding, mind-bending headache that always managed to shatter her concentration, destroy her focus.
[Did it again.]
She tried to remember what she'd been thinking about a few minutes ago and shook her head, the slight movement compounding the discomfort. Something about.... She closed her eyes, concentrating. Something about....
Alec. She looked at the pale-haired man and nodded. Yes. Something about Alec. Now, if only she could remember _what_ about Alec. Memory prickled at the edges of her mind and she strained to-
"What the hell are you staring at?" Vegita's voice broke into her thoughts.
She resisted the urge to kick something. So close. So damn close figuring out something and the man just had to open his mouth. It had been important, too. She _knew_ it had been important.
"Nothing..." Alec said. That younger, clear voice had to be Alec's. "It's just that...I...I like your shirt..."
The shirt. The pink one with BAD MAN written on the back. Ender glanced at Vegita and closed her eyes. He still looked ridiculous.
"If you like it so much you can have it!" Vegita shouted.
"Guys, guys..." said a woman in a too-short skirt. Ender looked at her, matching up the face with a name. Bulma Briefs, inventor and future owner of Capsule Corp. Ender had a file on her. The picture was outdated though--it showed short, straight hair instead of this...this nightmare that Bulma had now. Ender would have to find and paste in a newer photo as soon as she-
"Stay _out_ of this, woman!" Vegita hissed, turning on Bulma. Ender exhaled through her teeth, letting her head drop down into her palms.
"What?" Bulma's voice rose an octave in indignation. "What the hell is _your_ problem?"
"You! You're the one who forced me into this stupid getup!"
[Shut up,] Ender thought, holding her head between her hands. [Shut up, shut up, shut up.] Her headache throbbed in time to their words. She looked up and glared at the Saiyan and the human behind her sunglasses, wishing she could silence them with her thoughts.
And, cursing them, watching them, trying to ignore them, the realization exploded in her head.
Alec looked like Vegita.
* * * * *
"Me?" Bulma said, then louder, higher. "_Me_? _You're_ the one who just barged into _my_ house without a word, expecting everyone to... to... start _worshipping_ you!"
"I did no such thing, woman!" Vegita snarled, obsidian eyes glittering as he drew himself up to his full height. "I was simply asking for you to show a little _respect_ for someone of my lineage!"
"Hello?" she snapped, "Did you forget something? This is Earth. No one cares about your lineage, you stupid arrogant bastard, least of all me."
* * * * *
It was unbelievable, standing there, seeing these long-dead heroes that mother mentioned so often, seeing the younger versions of the people he knew. Trunks felt his lips beginning to twitch up into a smile and stopped himself. If he kept on grinning for no reason, everyone standing there was going to think that he was insane.
But still.... Incredible. All those people dead in his time were now alive. And those alive in his time were now twenty years younger, twenty years stronger, twenty years different.
Mother. Trunks wanted to laugh. Sensible, pragmatic mother was quick-tempered and hotheaded in her youth. He wouldn't have expected it of her. Mother was mother, and he'd thought that no reduction of age could change that. But... He grinned, remembering that impressive display of temper in the argument she'd had with Vegita. He'd been wrong.
The grin slipped off his face a little when he saw Vegita. Mother had often spoken of him, often described him with soft voices and softer smiles, but somehow.... Trunks felt his jaw clench. Somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that Vegita did not deserve his mother's praise. He was arrogant and cold and rude and....
He broke off that train of thought, shaking his head. Mother would never love the Vegita he was describing. There had to be something there that he wasn't seeing, something about Vegita that was worth looking for. That had to be it.
And then there was Gohan. Trunks glanced at the boy for the twentieth time, shook his head for the twentieth time. The Gohan in his time had acutely shown a lifetime running from the androids. He had been quiet to the point of reticence, tired to the point of exhaustion, vengeful to the point of mania.
And in comparison, this Gohan was so...alive.
Alive, with dark, untamable bangs, wide eyes inquisitive and curious, harsher Saiyan features still blunted with childhood. Alive, grinning now as Piccolo said something to him, saying something back in return, something that caused the Namek to crack a slow smile. Alive, healthy, complete.
But all that would change when the androids came.
Trunks closed his eyes, reining in the automatic surge of blind anger. The androids. They would scour the earth, destroying Tokyo in a single day, slicing the earth's population in half within a year. They would burn entire cities to the ground, cut down the governments so that the world would be leaderless. They would kill everyone that stood a chance against them: Vegita, Piccolo, Krillin, Tien, Yamcha...
Gohan.
And then, when there was no resistance left to speak of, the androids would pick off the population, little by little, until the human race dwindled to insignificance. Until every person alive, every youth and adult and elder, had lost a brother, or a sister, or a mother, or a father. Until the only chance for survival was to live underground, where layers of earth shielded your ki, for the duration of life.
Trunks opened his eyes, tilted his face up to the sun. He hadn't allowed himself to relax and feel the sun for a long time, had always been too busy keeping an eye out for the androids to enjoy the few moments he had above ground. That was the price he paid for being alive.
He wasn't going to let this world's people pay the same price.
* * * * *
["No one cares about your lineage, you stupid arrogant bastard."]
["Least of all me."]
Damn it. Vegita growled, muscles clenching so hard that they trembled, the sinews in his arms standing out as he curled his fingers into fists. Damn that woman. Who the hell did she think she was, talking to him like he was beneath her? He was the prince of the Saiyans, the strongest of his race, the-
[Ruler without a race to rule over, elite who was beaten by a disgrace of a third-class warrior, royal who, for all his power, cannot earn the respect of one mere _human_.]
Vegita snarled, jaw tightening as he struggled to get his fury under control.
Damn that woman!
* * * * *
Ender glanced between the two men, searching out similarities in their features.
Vegita had somewhat slanted eyes, black as midnight, harsh and cold. His stiff, chaotic hair, typical of Saiyans, swept upwards from a prominent widow's peak, accenting the high forehead, the perpetual scowl indentations above his eyebrows. His skin color was different than everyone else's; a sort of darker, mahogany-tinted color.
Alec's eyes were wide and pale, but they had the slight upward tilt to them as well. His hair was straight and light, not at all like Vegita's, but he had the same widow's peak, the same high forehead, the same skin tone. He even had the Saiyans' traditional features: the angular, prominent cheekbones, the low, strong brows, the sharp, stubborn chin.
So what did that mean? Was Vegita Alec's father?
It made sense. Made a lot of sense. From his power level and his looks, she knew that Alec was part human, part Saiyan. And the only Saiyans whose ki signatures she'd ever sensed on Earth were Goku, Vegita, Raditz, and Nappa.
She knew that Goku wasn't Alec's father, because Chichi didn't have the pale hair or eyes that Alec had inherited from his human parent. She knew that Raditz and Nappa hadn't survived long enough on Earth to have half-human children.
So that left Vegita.
And since Vegita and Alec's features matched, maybe, just maybe....
* * * * *
[What's that girl doing?]
She had been looking at the white-haired stranger and Vegita for the past couple of minutes, her gaze flicking back and forth between them. Krillin squinted in her direction for a few seconds before he shook his head at himself.
So what if she was watching Vegita? So what if she was watching the stranger? She could just be measuring them up, figuring out how she'd stand up against them in a fight.
A fight. Between this girl and Vegita. That was an interesting idea. Krillin wondered whether she'd even last five minutes. There couldn't be enough power in that small body to stand up against someone as strong as Vegita.
Then again, if she could turn Super Saiyan....
* * * * *
The girl was watching him again.
She had started a few minutes ago, looking at him for a long time, then turning away, then looking back again. Trunks leaned forward and stared back, searching her face for an expression. Any expression.
What was she thinking?
Through the fabric of his jacket, he brushed the cylinders hidden in his inside front pocket. The one on the left was a compressed capsule holding the time machine. The one on the right was the medicine he'd have to give Goku later. The one in the center....
Drinks, his mother had said when she handed him the capsule, in case you need to break the ice.
He smiled at the thought. It would take more than a few cans of soda to get that girl to talk. More like a few shots of liquor. But, shrugging to himself, he slid the capsule out, pressing the button on its side and throwing it to the ground before him.
Anything was worth a try.
* * * * *
No. Ender hissed between clenched teeth, feeling the credibility of her theory slip away. Vegita had first arrived on Earth a short while ago--she had sensed his arrival, felt his ki signature. Alec looked to be around eighteen. A Saiyan who'd been on Earth for such a short amount of time could not have had an eighteen-year-old son with a human woman. So Vegita could not be Alec's father.
But who else could be considered? Goku, Raditz, and Nappa had already been eliminated. Her father had never reached Earth. Was there was another Saiyan who'd survived Frieza? She doubted it. There couldn't be _that_ many stray survivors floating about in space. And she would've sensed any Saiyan that happened to come across Earth. No, Alec's father had to be Vegita.
But that was impossible. The timing was all off. _Completely_ off. So how-
Footsteps.
She listened to them approach, listened to the puffs of dust rising with each stride, and opened her eyes. She knew that ki signature coming towards her. With a soft sigh, she re-settled her sunglasses more securely on the bridge of her nose and leaned forward, elbows on her knees.
"Hey Alec," she said
* * * * *
Somewhere at the back of Trunks's mind, a voice asked whether this was that great of an idea after all, but he shut it up. What was he going to do, run off in the opposite direction and hope that she wouldn't think he was crazy?
"Need something?" she said.
He winced at the coldness of her voice, but told himself not to look away. "No," he said, toying with the can of soda, tossing it from hand to hand. "Not really." He held out the soda to her. "Would you like a drink?"
There was a very long pause. Trunks swore he could almost see her eyes narrow behind the lenses. "Why?" she said finally. "I don't know you. You don't know me. So why?"
He shrugged, trying to get the tension out of his shoulders. "It's hot out here. I figured you'd be thirsty." He offered the soda to her again, and Ender hesitated, still looking up at him. Trunks had the distinct feeling that she wasn't used to people giving her anything. "Go on," he said, trying to smile. "I didn't poison it."
Her eyebrows went up, but she reached for the can. Instead of opening it, though, she just sat, holding it in her hands, as if she wasn't sure whether to open it or toss it away. Trunks shifted his weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable watching her but not knowing what else to do.
When it became obvious that she wasn't going to respond, he sighed and began speaking. "Look, Goku will be showing up in a few more minutes. So..." he trailed off, not sure what he was trying to say. "Never mind. Enjoy the soda." With that, he turned and walked away.
Before he'd gotten very far, though, she called him back. "Alec?"
Trunks took two more steps before he remembered that "Alec" was the false name he'd given her. He turned, boots scraping against the dry ground.
She opened the can. "Thanks," she said, the one word so soft--so unexpected--that he almost didn't hear it above the click and hiss of the lid snapping open.
He stared for an instant, mouth opening in surprise, before he got control over his features. "You're welcome," he said, a little too awkwardly, then once again began to walk away.
"Alec."
For the second time he stopped, turned around. "Yeah?"
She held the soda can up. "Where'd you get this from?"
He blinked, wondering what she was trying to get at. "I had a refrigerator capsuled."
The dark lenses of her sunglasses caught the light, making it even harder to read her expression. "Capsuled?" she murmured, taking another sip from the can.
"Yeah. Some company's producing compressed items by the millions now." When her expression stayed blank, he sighed. "You buy this item that has this logo on the side that says that it can be capsuled, then you put whatever you want in it, then you press a button, and the item gets compacted to a-"
"Capsule the size of your thumb," she finished. Something like amusement crept onto her mouth. "I know, Alec. I watch the commercials."
For some reason, that not-quite smile annoyed him. "Good for you. What's your point?"
"They haven't made a compressible refrigerator yet."
Whatever response he would've made froze on his lips. Trunks swallowed hard, feeling the first tendrils of realization creep into his mind.
"In other words," she said, "you're using something that no one on Earth has developed." She paused. "At least, they haven't developed it _yet_. I'm sure someone will come up with it later. In the future."
Did she know? Had she guessed? He hissed, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to clear the shock out of his mind long enough to sort everything out.
"You're a bit of a paradox, Alec, you know that?" she said, barging into his thoughts. "You look and dress human, but you have technology that no human's ever produced. You're Vegita's son, but you're far too old for him to be your father." She finished the soda with a calmness that seemed out of place to Trunks's state of mind. "Then again, I shouldn't have expected any less from a human-looking man with Saiyan powers."
For a long moment, there was silence. Then Ender crumpled the empty can in one hand, the soft metal collapsing in her palm, and threw it aside. The metal clattered as it bounced across the ground.
"I want to know three things from you," she said flatly. "First of all, I want to know why you came here. Secondly, I want to know how you trained up to a Super Saiyan without having your power level noticed. And thirdly, I want to know where you got the capsule from because I only know one person who has the technology to make something like that and he's-"
Light streaked across the sky, bringing with it a low rumble that drowned out her words. The two hours were up; Goku was returning to Earth. Trunks couldn't hear her voice over the rising roar of landing spacecraft, but he could see her lips move, watch her finish her sentence.
["-dead."]
* * * * *
"What's going on?" Gohan shouted above the noise.
"Whatever it is," Bulma screamed, clapping her hands over her ears, "it's deafening!" The light they'd seen drew nearer, taking on a reddish tint as it pierced the atmosphere and plummeted to earth. The ground shook with the impact, and then waves of debris radiated from the crash site, swallowing the small group of people in a sea of dust.
Bulma coughed as dirt caked the inside of her mouth. Screwing her face up in disgust, she spat and spat again to wash the taste from her tongue, pulling her shirt over her mouth as a makeshift mask. She squinted through the earth-choked air, straining to see through the settling dust.
And in the hush that followed, as they all stood silent, waiting, as the dust drifted downwards in soft waves, Gohan stared, feeling a new ki signature at the edge of his senses. "Dad?" he whispered, almost not daring to hope. Then, louder. "Dad!" He took off at a run, pushing himself off into the air. "Dad! He's home! He's finally home!"
* * * * *
Even after the air had cleared, Alec continued to stand silent as the stone about him, face frozen into a mask of surprise. Then, with a slow shake of his head, he shifted. And straightened.
And smiled.
_Smiled_.
A half smile, a guarded smile, a smile that broke the stillness even as the hard set of his shoulders spoke a warning. Ender's fingers itched to reach for her swords.
[Not so human after all.]
"'You want to know'?" repeated Alec almost to himself, his voice low with amusement. "And what would happen if I decided not to tell you these things?"
"Oh, you'll tell me," said Ender, sliding a hand into her right pocket, fingers brushing the small device there. "One way or another."
Alec crossed his arms over his chest. "Really?" He took a step towards her, eyes glittering.
Ender hadn't realized how tall he was until now, towering at least half a foot above her. She glared back--told herself to glare back--and crossed her arms over her chest as well. "Really."
An assortment of voices interrupted their staring contest. Alec turned to see where the shouting was coming from, and then, while his head was turned, she slipped it into his jacket pocket.
A bug. Audio listening device. It was essentially a small microphone, about the size and weight of a dollar coin. And, if it worked the way she was hoping it would, it would pick up every single word Alec said and transmit it to her.
"Looks like Goku's arrived," he was saying, still looking in the other direction. "We'll finish this later."
Ender almost smiled. He hadn't noticed. "Later."
* * * * *
Goku breathed a deep sigh as he stepped out of the space capsule. The ground crumbled beneath his feet; the land, dry and cracked from drought, was unable to bear his weight. He looked about him, taking in the heat waves shimmering from the ground, the flat, treeless expanse, the parched dust rising with each scuff of his shoes, and grinned.
Back on Earth at last! It was a relief, such an indescribable relief, to be back where there was fresh air and scenery and room and sunlight and calm and-
"Dad!"
Goku's head snapped up at the distant shout, feeling a very familiar ki signature coming closer and closer. "Gohan?"
"Dad!" Gohan tore towards him, laughing so hard that Goku had to grin as well. With a final whoop, he crashed into his father so hard that he sent Goku skidding back several feet.
"Hey," Goku laughed, hugging his son. "Hey, I missed you too."
* * * * *
Vegita stood, watching the reunion scene, and scowled.
[Fools,] he thought, teeth grinding together. [So preoccupied with their little melodramatics that they fail to notice these...these....] His eyes darted towards the white-haired man and the girl he was talking to. [These menaces.]
Because they _were_ menaces, even if Kakarott's idiot friends weren't treating them as such. Two Saiyans who were capable of Super Saiyan, capable of defeating Frieza and his father like they were nothing, could not be considered anything _but_ menaces.
[And yet...]
And yet, despite the obvious threat those two posed, Goku and his halfbreed son were standing there, _hugging_.
That open display of affection, that blatant disregard for their surroundings, angered him more than anything else. No, "angered" was an understatement. It enraged him. It infuriated him. It made him so fucking ticked off that he couldn't see straight.
And for about five seconds, it almost _killed_ Vegita that Kakarott would embarrass Vegita's race by displaying his weak side in public, that he would be so blind as to disregard two of the strongest power levels ever to touch the planet, and that he, that senile, stupid, ridiculous excuse of a Saiyan, had defeated Vegita in battle, and, oh, how he wanted to go up and wrap his hands around that neck and _squeeze_.
And then, he relaxed.
After all, it was only natural that Kakarott would display his emotions so shamelessly, would let them distract him to improper unwariness. The man had always been volatile, acting off his feelings rather than his sense, his sentiments rather than his instincts. That was Kakarott's greatest weakness.
And, to tell the truth, Vegita didn't mind that weakness at all.
It would just make the fool easier to defeat.
* * * * *
"What?" Goku felt his smile freeze on his face. "That man over there said that I'll be here?" he said, pointing at a youth standing some distance away from the rest of the group.
"That's right, dad." Gohan grinned.
Goku shook his head. "That can't be right."
"Why not?"
"I've never seen that guy before in my life."
Fire and Ice
written by Anderea
speak2005@hotmail.com
Chapter Two, The Arrival
Ender mouthed the name, sliding her hands into her jacket pockets as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. Alec. She shook her head, turning away. Impossible. No Saiyan would allow their child to be given a human name. It was degrading. Humiliating. Admitting that a child was unfit for the warrior life.
[He's lying, then.]
Her lips thinned, a mental finger pressing her power level down to curb her irritation. So he wasn't as naïve as he looked; he knew enough not to give out his real name to a total stranger. Not bad for someone who was incapable of keeping his emotions in check. Who couldn't act Saiyan even if he tried. Who couldn't hide his-
She stopped at that thought.
The ki signature. Alec couldn't hide his ki signature.
Ender shook her head. How long had she been keeping track of the highest power levels on Earth? A long time. Since she heard about Goku. Since she'd found that there were other, stronger Saiyans who had survived Frieza's mass murder. Since she'd finally figured out how to conceal herself well enough to be able to follow these men without them noticing.
So, in all those years of tracking multiple ki signatures, in all those years of compiling information on the strongest fighters on Earth, how the hell had she managed to miss a power level as high as Alec's?
[Simple. You assumed.]
Stupid. She exhaled a breath in a hiss, studying the rocky ground. She'd been stupid to assume that she'd found every single potential threat on this tiny planet, stupid to overlook this Alec, stupid to allow herself to relax. Stupidity meant mistakes, and mistakes got you killed. Or hurt. Or-
The memory fought its way to the surface of her mind and Ender closed her eyes against it, hands grabbing a handful of denim and clenching.
* * * * *
[It's almost funny, watching mother with another man,] Trunks thought, glancing over in Yamcha's direction. He looked away, trying not to wince as he saw the human slide an arm around Bulma's waist. [Almost.]
They looked happy, dammit. They looked like they were in love. And under any normal circumstances, Trunks might have wished this nameless, faceless couple the best of luck.
But these weren't normal circumstances and Yamcha wasn't his father.
So how did Vegita fit in this?
* * * * *
Vegita crossed his arms over his chest, trying to ignore the giggling noises coming from behind him. Idiot humans. They were so variable. So inconstant. One second the woman would be screaming at Yamcha. The next, Yamcha would be threatening to leave. Then, two minutes later, they'd be hugging. Or worse, kissing. In public! It was bad enough having to endure their arguments, but having to endure their sappiness?
He hissed, forcing his eyes forward. Unfortunately, that put the girl right in front of him. Vegita watched her through narrowed eyes, watched the translucent beads of sweat forming on her temples, the hard set of her jaw, the white-knuckled hands, and snorted, looking away.
Crazy girl. Probably psychotic.
* * * * *
For the second or third time that day, Gohan glanced up to find the white-haired man's eyes on him. The demi-Saiyan ignored the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach and stared back until the man smiled, one side of his lips curving upwards, and looked away.
Gohan shook his head, turning his back on the stranger. The man's gaze didn't bother him. No, Gohan was used to the stares, the whispered comments between bystanders as they gawked at the muscles lacing his deceivingly small form. But this man's eyes didn't hold surprise, or amazement. Rather, they held...familiarity. Warmth. Like he was looking at a friend he hadn't seen for a long time.
And Gohan was pretty sure that he'd never met this man before.
* * * * *
[_Shit_.]
Ender's hand went up to her forehead, fingers brushing her temples in a futile effort to dampen the pain. Headache. Another head-pounding, mind-bending headache that always managed to shatter her concentration, destroy her focus.
[Did it again.]
She tried to remember what she'd been thinking about a few minutes ago and shook her head, the slight movement compounding the discomfort. Something about.... She closed her eyes, concentrating. Something about....
Alec. She looked at the pale-haired man and nodded. Yes. Something about Alec. Now, if only she could remember _what_ about Alec. Memory prickled at the edges of her mind and she strained to-
"What the hell are you staring at?" Vegita's voice broke into her thoughts.
She resisted the urge to kick something. So close. So damn close figuring out something and the man just had to open his mouth. It had been important, too. She _knew_ it had been important.
"Nothing..." Alec said. That younger, clear voice had to be Alec's. "It's just that...I...I like your shirt..."
The shirt. The pink one with BAD MAN written on the back. Ender glanced at Vegita and closed her eyes. He still looked ridiculous.
"If you like it so much you can have it!" Vegita shouted.
"Guys, guys..." said a woman in a too-short skirt. Ender looked at her, matching up the face with a name. Bulma Briefs, inventor and future owner of Capsule Corp. Ender had a file on her. The picture was outdated though--it showed short, straight hair instead of this...this nightmare that Bulma had now. Ender would have to find and paste in a newer photo as soon as she-
"Stay _out_ of this, woman!" Vegita hissed, turning on Bulma. Ender exhaled through her teeth, letting her head drop down into her palms.
"What?" Bulma's voice rose an octave in indignation. "What the hell is _your_ problem?"
"You! You're the one who forced me into this stupid getup!"
[Shut up,] Ender thought, holding her head between her hands. [Shut up, shut up, shut up.] Her headache throbbed in time to their words. She looked up and glared at the Saiyan and the human behind her sunglasses, wishing she could silence them with her thoughts.
And, cursing them, watching them, trying to ignore them, the realization exploded in her head.
Alec looked like Vegita.
* * * * *
"Me?" Bulma said, then louder, higher. "_Me_? _You're_ the one who just barged into _my_ house without a word, expecting everyone to... to... start _worshipping_ you!"
"I did no such thing, woman!" Vegita snarled, obsidian eyes glittering as he drew himself up to his full height. "I was simply asking for you to show a little _respect_ for someone of my lineage!"
"Hello?" she snapped, "Did you forget something? This is Earth. No one cares about your lineage, you stupid arrogant bastard, least of all me."
* * * * *
It was unbelievable, standing there, seeing these long-dead heroes that mother mentioned so often, seeing the younger versions of the people he knew. Trunks felt his lips beginning to twitch up into a smile and stopped himself. If he kept on grinning for no reason, everyone standing there was going to think that he was insane.
But still.... Incredible. All those people dead in his time were now alive. And those alive in his time were now twenty years younger, twenty years stronger, twenty years different.
Mother. Trunks wanted to laugh. Sensible, pragmatic mother was quick-tempered and hotheaded in her youth. He wouldn't have expected it of her. Mother was mother, and he'd thought that no reduction of age could change that. But... He grinned, remembering that impressive display of temper in the argument she'd had with Vegita. He'd been wrong.
The grin slipped off his face a little when he saw Vegita. Mother had often spoken of him, often described him with soft voices and softer smiles, but somehow.... Trunks felt his jaw clench. Somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that Vegita did not deserve his mother's praise. He was arrogant and cold and rude and....
He broke off that train of thought, shaking his head. Mother would never love the Vegita he was describing. There had to be something there that he wasn't seeing, something about Vegita that was worth looking for. That had to be it.
And then there was Gohan. Trunks glanced at the boy for the twentieth time, shook his head for the twentieth time. The Gohan in his time had acutely shown a lifetime running from the androids. He had been quiet to the point of reticence, tired to the point of exhaustion, vengeful to the point of mania.
And in comparison, this Gohan was so...alive.
Alive, with dark, untamable bangs, wide eyes inquisitive and curious, harsher Saiyan features still blunted with childhood. Alive, grinning now as Piccolo said something to him, saying something back in return, something that caused the Namek to crack a slow smile. Alive, healthy, complete.
But all that would change when the androids came.
Trunks closed his eyes, reining in the automatic surge of blind anger. The androids. They would scour the earth, destroying Tokyo in a single day, slicing the earth's population in half within a year. They would burn entire cities to the ground, cut down the governments so that the world would be leaderless. They would kill everyone that stood a chance against them: Vegita, Piccolo, Krillin, Tien, Yamcha...
Gohan.
And then, when there was no resistance left to speak of, the androids would pick off the population, little by little, until the human race dwindled to insignificance. Until every person alive, every youth and adult and elder, had lost a brother, or a sister, or a mother, or a father. Until the only chance for survival was to live underground, where layers of earth shielded your ki, for the duration of life.
Trunks opened his eyes, tilted his face up to the sun. He hadn't allowed himself to relax and feel the sun for a long time, had always been too busy keeping an eye out for the androids to enjoy the few moments he had above ground. That was the price he paid for being alive.
He wasn't going to let this world's people pay the same price.
* * * * *
["No one cares about your lineage, you stupid arrogant bastard."]
["Least of all me."]
Damn it. Vegita growled, muscles clenching so hard that they trembled, the sinews in his arms standing out as he curled his fingers into fists. Damn that woman. Who the hell did she think she was, talking to him like he was beneath her? He was the prince of the Saiyans, the strongest of his race, the-
[Ruler without a race to rule over, elite who was beaten by a disgrace of a third-class warrior, royal who, for all his power, cannot earn the respect of one mere _human_.]
Vegita snarled, jaw tightening as he struggled to get his fury under control.
Damn that woman!
* * * * *
Ender glanced between the two men, searching out similarities in their features.
Vegita had somewhat slanted eyes, black as midnight, harsh and cold. His stiff, chaotic hair, typical of Saiyans, swept upwards from a prominent widow's peak, accenting the high forehead, the perpetual scowl indentations above his eyebrows. His skin color was different than everyone else's; a sort of darker, mahogany-tinted color.
Alec's eyes were wide and pale, but they had the slight upward tilt to them as well. His hair was straight and light, not at all like Vegita's, but he had the same widow's peak, the same high forehead, the same skin tone. He even had the Saiyans' traditional features: the angular, prominent cheekbones, the low, strong brows, the sharp, stubborn chin.
So what did that mean? Was Vegita Alec's father?
It made sense. Made a lot of sense. From his power level and his looks, she knew that Alec was part human, part Saiyan. And the only Saiyans whose ki signatures she'd ever sensed on Earth were Goku, Vegita, Raditz, and Nappa.
She knew that Goku wasn't Alec's father, because Chichi didn't have the pale hair or eyes that Alec had inherited from his human parent. She knew that Raditz and Nappa hadn't survived long enough on Earth to have half-human children.
So that left Vegita.
And since Vegita and Alec's features matched, maybe, just maybe....
* * * * *
[What's that girl doing?]
She had been looking at the white-haired stranger and Vegita for the past couple of minutes, her gaze flicking back and forth between them. Krillin squinted in her direction for a few seconds before he shook his head at himself.
So what if she was watching Vegita? So what if she was watching the stranger? She could just be measuring them up, figuring out how she'd stand up against them in a fight.
A fight. Between this girl and Vegita. That was an interesting idea. Krillin wondered whether she'd even last five minutes. There couldn't be enough power in that small body to stand up against someone as strong as Vegita.
Then again, if she could turn Super Saiyan....
* * * * *
The girl was watching him again.
She had started a few minutes ago, looking at him for a long time, then turning away, then looking back again. Trunks leaned forward and stared back, searching her face for an expression. Any expression.
What was she thinking?
Through the fabric of his jacket, he brushed the cylinders hidden in his inside front pocket. The one on the left was a compressed capsule holding the time machine. The one on the right was the medicine he'd have to give Goku later. The one in the center....
Drinks, his mother had said when she handed him the capsule, in case you need to break the ice.
He smiled at the thought. It would take more than a few cans of soda to get that girl to talk. More like a few shots of liquor. But, shrugging to himself, he slid the capsule out, pressing the button on its side and throwing it to the ground before him.
Anything was worth a try.
* * * * *
No. Ender hissed between clenched teeth, feeling the credibility of her theory slip away. Vegita had first arrived on Earth a short while ago--she had sensed his arrival, felt his ki signature. Alec looked to be around eighteen. A Saiyan who'd been on Earth for such a short amount of time could not have had an eighteen-year-old son with a human woman. So Vegita could not be Alec's father.
But who else could be considered? Goku, Raditz, and Nappa had already been eliminated. Her father had never reached Earth. Was there was another Saiyan who'd survived Frieza? She doubted it. There couldn't be _that_ many stray survivors floating about in space. And she would've sensed any Saiyan that happened to come across Earth. No, Alec's father had to be Vegita.
But that was impossible. The timing was all off. _Completely_ off. So how-
Footsteps.
She listened to them approach, listened to the puffs of dust rising with each stride, and opened her eyes. She knew that ki signature coming towards her. With a soft sigh, she re-settled her sunglasses more securely on the bridge of her nose and leaned forward, elbows on her knees.
"Hey Alec," she said
* * * * *
Somewhere at the back of Trunks's mind, a voice asked whether this was that great of an idea after all, but he shut it up. What was he going to do, run off in the opposite direction and hope that she wouldn't think he was crazy?
"Need something?" she said.
He winced at the coldness of her voice, but told himself not to look away. "No," he said, toying with the can of soda, tossing it from hand to hand. "Not really." He held out the soda to her. "Would you like a drink?"
There was a very long pause. Trunks swore he could almost see her eyes narrow behind the lenses. "Why?" she said finally. "I don't know you. You don't know me. So why?"
He shrugged, trying to get the tension out of his shoulders. "It's hot out here. I figured you'd be thirsty." He offered the soda to her again, and Ender hesitated, still looking up at him. Trunks had the distinct feeling that she wasn't used to people giving her anything. "Go on," he said, trying to smile. "I didn't poison it."
Her eyebrows went up, but she reached for the can. Instead of opening it, though, she just sat, holding it in her hands, as if she wasn't sure whether to open it or toss it away. Trunks shifted his weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable watching her but not knowing what else to do.
When it became obvious that she wasn't going to respond, he sighed and began speaking. "Look, Goku will be showing up in a few more minutes. So..." he trailed off, not sure what he was trying to say. "Never mind. Enjoy the soda." With that, he turned and walked away.
Before he'd gotten very far, though, she called him back. "Alec?"
Trunks took two more steps before he remembered that "Alec" was the false name he'd given her. He turned, boots scraping against the dry ground.
She opened the can. "Thanks," she said, the one word so soft--so unexpected--that he almost didn't hear it above the click and hiss of the lid snapping open.
He stared for an instant, mouth opening in surprise, before he got control over his features. "You're welcome," he said, a little too awkwardly, then once again began to walk away.
"Alec."
For the second time he stopped, turned around. "Yeah?"
She held the soda can up. "Where'd you get this from?"
He blinked, wondering what she was trying to get at. "I had a refrigerator capsuled."
The dark lenses of her sunglasses caught the light, making it even harder to read her expression. "Capsuled?" she murmured, taking another sip from the can.
"Yeah. Some company's producing compressed items by the millions now." When her expression stayed blank, he sighed. "You buy this item that has this logo on the side that says that it can be capsuled, then you put whatever you want in it, then you press a button, and the item gets compacted to a-"
"Capsule the size of your thumb," she finished. Something like amusement crept onto her mouth. "I know, Alec. I watch the commercials."
For some reason, that not-quite smile annoyed him. "Good for you. What's your point?"
"They haven't made a compressible refrigerator yet."
Whatever response he would've made froze on his lips. Trunks swallowed hard, feeling the first tendrils of realization creep into his mind.
"In other words," she said, "you're using something that no one on Earth has developed." She paused. "At least, they haven't developed it _yet_. I'm sure someone will come up with it later. In the future."
Did she know? Had she guessed? He hissed, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to clear the shock out of his mind long enough to sort everything out.
"You're a bit of a paradox, Alec, you know that?" she said, barging into his thoughts. "You look and dress human, but you have technology that no human's ever produced. You're Vegita's son, but you're far too old for him to be your father." She finished the soda with a calmness that seemed out of place to Trunks's state of mind. "Then again, I shouldn't have expected any less from a human-looking man with Saiyan powers."
For a long moment, there was silence. Then Ender crumpled the empty can in one hand, the soft metal collapsing in her palm, and threw it aside. The metal clattered as it bounced across the ground.
"I want to know three things from you," she said flatly. "First of all, I want to know why you came here. Secondly, I want to know how you trained up to a Super Saiyan without having your power level noticed. And thirdly, I want to know where you got the capsule from because I only know one person who has the technology to make something like that and he's-"
Light streaked across the sky, bringing with it a low rumble that drowned out her words. The two hours were up; Goku was returning to Earth. Trunks couldn't hear her voice over the rising roar of landing spacecraft, but he could see her lips move, watch her finish her sentence.
["-dead."]
* * * * *
"What's going on?" Gohan shouted above the noise.
"Whatever it is," Bulma screamed, clapping her hands over her ears, "it's deafening!" The light they'd seen drew nearer, taking on a reddish tint as it pierced the atmosphere and plummeted to earth. The ground shook with the impact, and then waves of debris radiated from the crash site, swallowing the small group of people in a sea of dust.
Bulma coughed as dirt caked the inside of her mouth. Screwing her face up in disgust, she spat and spat again to wash the taste from her tongue, pulling her shirt over her mouth as a makeshift mask. She squinted through the earth-choked air, straining to see through the settling dust.
And in the hush that followed, as they all stood silent, waiting, as the dust drifted downwards in soft waves, Gohan stared, feeling a new ki signature at the edge of his senses. "Dad?" he whispered, almost not daring to hope. Then, louder. "Dad!" He took off at a run, pushing himself off into the air. "Dad! He's home! He's finally home!"
* * * * *
Even after the air had cleared, Alec continued to stand silent as the stone about him, face frozen into a mask of surprise. Then, with a slow shake of his head, he shifted. And straightened.
And smiled.
_Smiled_.
A half smile, a guarded smile, a smile that broke the stillness even as the hard set of his shoulders spoke a warning. Ender's fingers itched to reach for her swords.
[Not so human after all.]
"'You want to know'?" repeated Alec almost to himself, his voice low with amusement. "And what would happen if I decided not to tell you these things?"
"Oh, you'll tell me," said Ender, sliding a hand into her right pocket, fingers brushing the small device there. "One way or another."
Alec crossed his arms over his chest. "Really?" He took a step towards her, eyes glittering.
Ender hadn't realized how tall he was until now, towering at least half a foot above her. She glared back--told herself to glare back--and crossed her arms over her chest as well. "Really."
An assortment of voices interrupted their staring contest. Alec turned to see where the shouting was coming from, and then, while his head was turned, she slipped it into his jacket pocket.
A bug. Audio listening device. It was essentially a small microphone, about the size and weight of a dollar coin. And, if it worked the way she was hoping it would, it would pick up every single word Alec said and transmit it to her.
"Looks like Goku's arrived," he was saying, still looking in the other direction. "We'll finish this later."
Ender almost smiled. He hadn't noticed. "Later."
* * * * *
Goku breathed a deep sigh as he stepped out of the space capsule. The ground crumbled beneath his feet; the land, dry and cracked from drought, was unable to bear his weight. He looked about him, taking in the heat waves shimmering from the ground, the flat, treeless expanse, the parched dust rising with each scuff of his shoes, and grinned.
Back on Earth at last! It was a relief, such an indescribable relief, to be back where there was fresh air and scenery and room and sunlight and calm and-
"Dad!"
Goku's head snapped up at the distant shout, feeling a very familiar ki signature coming closer and closer. "Gohan?"
"Dad!" Gohan tore towards him, laughing so hard that Goku had to grin as well. With a final whoop, he crashed into his father so hard that he sent Goku skidding back several feet.
"Hey," Goku laughed, hugging his son. "Hey, I missed you too."
* * * * *
Vegita stood, watching the reunion scene, and scowled.
[Fools,] he thought, teeth grinding together. [So preoccupied with their little melodramatics that they fail to notice these...these....] His eyes darted towards the white-haired man and the girl he was talking to. [These menaces.]
Because they _were_ menaces, even if Kakarott's idiot friends weren't treating them as such. Two Saiyans who were capable of Super Saiyan, capable of defeating Frieza and his father like they were nothing, could not be considered anything _but_ menaces.
[And yet...]
And yet, despite the obvious threat those two posed, Goku and his halfbreed son were standing there, _hugging_.
That open display of affection, that blatant disregard for their surroundings, angered him more than anything else. No, "angered" was an understatement. It enraged him. It infuriated him. It made him so fucking ticked off that he couldn't see straight.
And for about five seconds, it almost _killed_ Vegita that Kakarott would embarrass Vegita's race by displaying his weak side in public, that he would be so blind as to disregard two of the strongest power levels ever to touch the planet, and that he, that senile, stupid, ridiculous excuse of a Saiyan, had defeated Vegita in battle, and, oh, how he wanted to go up and wrap his hands around that neck and _squeeze_.
And then, he relaxed.
After all, it was only natural that Kakarott would display his emotions so shamelessly, would let them distract him to improper unwariness. The man had always been volatile, acting off his feelings rather than his sense, his sentiments rather than his instincts. That was Kakarott's greatest weakness.
And, to tell the truth, Vegita didn't mind that weakness at all.
It would just make the fool easier to defeat.
* * * * *
"What?" Goku felt his smile freeze on his face. "That man over there said that I'll be here?" he said, pointing at a youth standing some distance away from the rest of the group.
"That's right, dad." Gohan grinned.
Goku shook his head. "That can't be right."
"Why not?"
"I've never seen that guy before in my life."
