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They do love me, they do love me, I've never felt such relief, and I curse my inability to smile at my mom when she reassured me. I hope that she doesn't mind, surely she understands.

But not even I understand.

Shrugging uncomfortably I settle back into my favorite reading chair, nestled easily into the corner of my bedroom. My small bedroom. I've found in the past few years that I like the cozy, more secure environment that tight living quarters provide.

Dinner would be nice about now, I decide as I pick up the headphones to my cd player and place them in my ears. What's My Age Again? begins playing, and I unconsciously lay my head back, eyes closed. What would it be like to be 23? Nobody likes you when you're 17 either.

I wonder what Bra's doing. I haven't seen her all afternoon, and I had promised to take her to the beach today. So much for that plan. Tomorrow perhaps, not like I have anything else to do.

Reluctantly I laid down the earphones and sought out my sister. Her ki leads me straight to her bedroom, where she's napping on her bed. However her sleep is light and she stirs awake seconds after I enter the room. Now sitting on the edge of the bed, I stroke fine hair back from her warm forehead. "Bra-chan," I murmur, and she dazedly smiles up at me. As consciousness invades more fully, her smile fades, even turning to a frown. It is then that I realize she's changed, there's a maturity to her eyes, something that speaks of knowledge.

Her frown contorts as a tear escapes her eyelashes, making its way down her already tear-stained cheeks. Why is she crying? A quivering, sobbing form is thrust into my arms, her small arms wrapping tightly around my chest. "Trunks," is the only word she manages to utter. My mind races for an answer to her actions…

They told her.

The inevitability of the situation quashes my anger; she had to know eventually. Deserved to know. She deserved to know her fate, but she certainly didn't deserve the fate itself. I wonder for a moment at the unfairness of life. But then, is it really fair to anyone? Probably not.

"Hey, B …Bra, look at me," I gently stroke her head as her crying slows to a sniffle, glistening blue eyes looking into my own.

"I'm scared," she admits, her voice straining at the edge of hearing. "I'm scared and I don't want…don't want to…"

"To die?" I finish.

"No, of course not but, but I don't want you to die, and then me to die, and then Mom and Daddy will be left alone. I don't want them to be sad." I blinked at her sadly, pulling her up into my arms to cradle her.

"I don't want them to be sad either Bra, but don't worry about things you have no control over. Have your fun, live your life, don't think of what's ahead. If there's something you really want to do, then just do it. Okay?" She sniffled again, and I handed her a tissue as she nodded.

"That's my girl."

"You know what I really want?"

"Huh?" She clutched my head in her small hands, unconsciously mimicking the gesture Dad used to teach me a difficult technique. Has something to do with telepathy.

"Food."

I can't help a chuckle as she crawls around to my back, and I carry her downstairs wishing that they could see the smile in my mind.

+\+\

I have to struggle to hold in laughter as Vegeta makes another smart-assed comment about tomorrow night's dinner arrangements. He'll get over it.

The family has been timidly invited to the Sons, as we do every month. Well, every other month. On the off months they come over here. The company is a little strained, but overall we have a good time, usually. Of course, it was only a few months ago when Goku had one of his breakdowns, it was most likely the hardest thing I've ever had to witness. But then, his moment's are getting fewer and farther between, I can only pray that after all this time, hes finally moving on. I can only pray, which doesn't seem to be helping my son's situation any, or my daughter's, for that matter. Shrugging uncomfortably, I put the heavy subject from my mind even as Vegeta's arms curl around my waist, his body pressed to my back as I continue stirring dinner on the stove.

"I'm okay," I answer to his unvoiced but obvious question. He buries his face in my shoulder and nuzzles my neck, and I briefly turn my head to lay a kiss on his temple.

"I won't be okay, forced into the same house with that witch, at least she can cook," he grumbles into my ear, renewing the smile on my face. Ah, Chi-Chi's cooking abilities, apparently her only redeeming quality. It seems that way sometimes…but not usually, not lately. She still tends to snap at people (Vegeta especially), but when you think of her situation, forced into being the emotionally stable one in her family, not to mention caring for her husband, you give her a little more leeway in her behavior. Ah well, no one's perfect.

Vegeta has since moved on from nuzzling to kissing, and I'm not objecting.

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