Disclaimer: Disclaimer? I have nothing to disclaim!!! I OWN EVERYTHING!!! Right down to every last scar on Vegeta's sexy, sculptured bod!!! I own every dot on Kuririn's forehead!! Every line on Piccolo's muscular arms!!! Every silky lavender hair on my Studly Hunk-a-Bunk of Lavender Hottness' head!!! I OWN IT ALL!!! IT'S ALL MIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!!!!!! *is dragged off stage by Akira Toriyama's private DBZ Ownership Enforcement Police* NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

Ok, ok, fine, I don't own anything. Though I DO own the Weird Spooky Disembodies Voice that torments Vegeta inside his head!!!! O wait.....I don't own that either!!! My bestest bud Tenshi Sasher seems to be strangely attracted to him, so I hereby give him to her. *sigh* Nope, I'm a pauper in the world of DBZ, it seems.

A/N: Chrystaline brought an error to my attention last chapter - I said that Gohan was seven years old when the massacre occurred, when in fact he should be ten. Just to clear that up - I'll go fix that sometime in the other chapter, but as I'm to lazy at the moment, just remember that Gohan is actually ten years old, not seven.

Thanks to everybody who's been reviewing this!!! I have so few of you guys, you faithfuls mean a lot to me!!

This chapter is dedicated to Tenshi, as her awesome, HUGE reviews are my main source of inspiration for this. Thanks, Tenshi dahlink, for all the support you're giving me on this!!! I wouldn't have gotten even this far without you!!! Thus, this chapter is dedicated to her. ^_^

Before I let you go on to the story, I have to show you this! It's so cool! I never realized this program had Japanese symbols on it before!! Observe: D&?8= Isn't that just the coolest thing? *grabs Trunks in a bear hug* Anyway, on to the story, since you've all been so patient with my extra bout of rambling today!!!

Meaningless- chapter 5

Dread

The day was still as Vegeta flew across the clear expanse of the autumn sky. Nature spoke of approaching winter, with the slight drop in temperature, frequent rains, and the sharp, clean crispness in the air. The sky was a deep, brilliant blue, void of cloud and contrasting with breathtaking beauty with the lush, colourful landscape below. Despite the change in seasons, it was still luxuriously warm, though the cold bite in the air made the morning seem somehow charged with life.

How ironic, after the terrible loss of life which had taken place only days prior. Nature had no right to be celebrating.

Vegeta cut through the stillness like an arrow, dark countenance scouring the rejoicing landscape like an open wound. He flew at such a speed that birds squawked and scrambled out of his way, and if he came upon a rock face in his path, he merely blasted straight through without so much as a blink of the eye.

He was scowling again. It seemed the expression had never left his face since he returned to Capsule Corp, and he didn't suspect it would be leaving anytime soon. His reunion with Bulma had been less than beneficial, to say the least. Even after they returned home from the battlefield the day before, Bulma had immediately resumed her furious, independent state the second he set her on the ground.

Vegeta's expression darkened further, his mouth set in a hard, irritated line.

Bulma was the first to reach the house. She marched stiffly, though her legs still shook slightly, and it was obvoius that whatever grudges she had held against him that morning had not been forgotten. Vegeta was less than impressed - she was his Woman alright - stubborn and agonizingly willful. Usually these same traits would have produced some sense of satisfaction and pride for his mate, but now it only irked him. He had come back because of her blatant refusal to leave his mind, after all...the least she could do now would be to give him some sign that she had thought of him at least once during his absence.

As usual, the Voice could not resist such a tempting offer to mock him.

My, my, so the Prince has at last admitted how much he depends on his mate, has he? The voice had become suddenly chill. It continues to amaze me what a spoiled little brat you are. She just lost nearly everyone important to her, and all you can think about is your injured ego. Tell me, how do you manage to live with yourself day after day?

Vegeta growled low in his throat, and ignoring the ever-digging daggers of the Voice, stormed into the house after his mate.

Bulma was mixing herself a drink when he entered the room. He could smell the strong alcohol all the way across the room, and something in the back of his mind made him want to swat the heavy drink from her hand before it touched her lips.

Bulma glared viciously at him upon his entry, clutching her glass angrily with one hand and swiping at her red, swollen eyes with the other. Determination was engraved on her features, and her gaze held so much pain and anger that Vegeta found that now-familiar rage towards the Z-senshi's murderers rising once again.

Turning her back abruptly on him, Bulma stalked rigidly to the entrance of her lab, pausing with her hand poised over the door's control panel. The look she gave him was bursting with icy warning.

"Don't even think about bothering me," she snarled, and though she tried to keep the waver from her voice, it came through anyway. "If you think that I've forgiven you, you're sorely mistaken. The last thing I want right now is to see your face, so just leave me alone."

Vegeta continued to glare as she punched in the twelve-digit security code and slammed the door behind her, purposely shutting him out. He could break that door into dust if he so desired with no amount of effort whatsoever, but something held him back, and he found himself unable to do anything but stare at the spot where she had been.

Trunks began to cry from within the room, his resonating wail audible even through the thick door. A moment later came Bulma's voice, harsh and ragged.

"Shut up!!"

With a startled jump in pitch, the baby's cries ended, replaced pitiful, sporadic sniffles and whimpers.

Vegeta's features contorted, and he left the room quickly. He could not stand to be in this house a moment longer - his steel nerves were perilously close to breaking. He retreated once again to the GT, training feverishly until dawn the next day when finally the knowledge that he had fallen back so easily into his old routine threatened to drive him mad. Furiously he left the GT as well . Besides, there was another issue he was anxious to find an answer to, one that involved a certain ten year old boy with impossible powers.

So, with one last contemptuous glance at the building where his mate still kept herself locked away, Vegeta shot into the air, a few startled birds and scattered leaves the only marks that he had ever been there.

At last the snow-capped peak of Mt. Paoutzu came into view, and Vegeta halted in the airfor the briefest of secondsbefore charging down at a sharp angle towards the small, domestic log cabin with "Good Luck" painted carefully above the door.

He landed jarringly on the rocky, grass-covered turf, and though the sharp jolt through his calf muscles would have produced a grin on any other occasion, his face now remained impassive. Quickly he scanned the area for Son Gohan's life force, eyes narrowing as his senses honed in on the boy's huddled form, curled up with his back against a tree.

Vegeta strode decisively over to him, his mind raging with so many demands and disbeliefs it was impossible to put a name to each one individually.

How could he possibly be a Super Saiyan? he demanded of himself, still refusing to register what he had witnessed only the day before. He is but a child! I have worked, toiled, striven for this honor my whole life! I am the Prince of the Saiyan race, and he is but a half-blood! How could he be granted the power of the Legendary, while I remain unblessed?

His steps brought him rapidly to the roots of the tree under which Gohan sat, his thoughts having driven him into such a state of bewilderment and frustration that he was barely able to keep control over his fury.

"Boy!" Vegeta snapped harshly, and Gohan jumped at his voice like a startled rabbit. He turned a tear-streaked face to the raging Saiyan, eyes dull and haunted with grief. Vegeta, however, took no notice, and dove directly to the point.

"How is it that you are able to ascend to the legendary level of Super Saiyan? Tell me now!!"

Gohan blinked and wiped the moisture from his cheeks, uncomprehending.

"What?"

Vegeta gritted his teeth in scarcely retrained impatience.

"Don't act daft with me, boy!" he snarled, staring him down. Gohan whimpered softly under his scrutiny.

"And stop that infernal sniffling!" Vegeta commanded roughly, his control rapidly dissipating. "I have heard so much blasted snivelling in the past tow days, I think I'm going to peuk!"

Gohan recoiled slightly in fear, though ever so slowly a hard, icy shield began to creep across his obsidian eyes. Vegeta, however, either missed or ignored the warning.

"Answer me, boy!!" he roared, hauling Gohan to his feet by the small demi-Saiyan's rumpled collar. "You must have an answer!!!"

Gohan's face hardened considerably.

"I don't know, ok? Now just leave me alone!"

Vegeta released his grasp on the boy's shirt, but was not ready to relent just yet.

"You don't know?" he scoffed, somewhat incredulously. "You don't know?!? I know of the toil and hardship many have endured in attempt to reach your level, and no-one, including myself, has ever been able to breach the gap between natural and ascended with the crude exception of your father! There is no way you can possess such power and not know how it was attained! I have seen it myself, so do not try and hide your ability. Tell me how!!!"

Gohan's eyes flashed, and he stumbled backward, face twisted with rage, tears of intense grief streaming over his cheeks.

"Do you think I want it?" he shouted, and Vegeta was taken slightly aback. "You think I want to have this power? You can have it! I hate it! I don't want this stupid level!" His voice began to tremble, anger and resolve disintegrating even as he spoke. "I don't want it at all! All I want is my Dad and Piccolo!"

Vegeta's eyes narrowed, and he advanced at a deadly, unhurried pace. He spoke slowly, voice low and dangerous.

"How dare you insult the legendary level of our people. Do you know how many worthy soldiers have driven themselves insane trying to achieve what you now possess?"

Suddenly, a loud, dull crash broke the menacing silence, followed by the splintering and cracking of something large and wooden. Vegeta turned his head sharply at the sound, and instantly a warning siren was set off in his mind.

Son ChiChi stood fuming on the front steps, the door having been slammed open so hard that several long, wide cracks ran up its surface and it hung crookedly on its hinges.

ChiChi's fists were clenched at her sides, and her ace was twisted into such a mask of fury, even Vegeta had to force himself not to take a step backwards.

She was dressed in black widow's garb, her ebony hair loose and tumbling in a wiled, frenzied mass over her shoulders. The darkness of her hair and long, simple gown contrasted dramatically with her pale skin, which was white from staying hidden indoors for so long as she mourned. Her eyes blazed, and a red flush slowly spread over her fair features as her anger continued to rise.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded shrilly, and she leapt in front of the now sobbing Gohan, spreading her arms wide in an effort to protect him.

"Don't you dare touch my son!! You hear me?"

Vegeta's left eye twitched, and he snarled through gritted teeth.

"I had no intention of touching him, woman!" he retorted gruffly, and to ChiChi's surprise his words were laced with honesty. "You know I would not."

ChiChi's rage did not lessen, but her voice dropped several octaves and she stared him down defiantly.

"Get off my property."

Vegeta stiffened.

"No-one gives me orders," he growled. "I —" but he was cut off as ChiChi burst in.

"You're on my land and I give the orders here!! I don't care if you're the prince of the universe, no-one has the right to threaten my son! Now get off my property now, or mark my words , I swear I'll find some way to kill you!!"

Vegeta eased his hands out of their tight fists, though he showed no sign of leaving.

"That's interesting." he stated calmly. "I thought you would have had quite enough death for the time being."

ChiChi began to tremble, and red flames of energy began to lick hungrily at her limbs, making her look almost devilish in her black clothing and flashing dark eyes.

"How dare you..." she hissed, then her voice rapidly began to rise. "You have no right to say anything!! First you abandon my best friend and your own son, and make her cry and mourn over you on top of losing one of her closest friends! Then you sit around on your spoiled Royal behind while everyone we care about is slaughtered! Finally you come crawling back here, and now you have the audacity to torment my son?!? Get out! GET OUT!!!!"

A chilling silence followed, after which Vegeta growled menacingly,

"I do not take orders from anyone." The next instant he was gone.

Just before he blasted into the air, ChiChi caught something, something in his eye that startled her. What was it? Regret? Remorse? ...grief? Whatever it was that had tinged the prince's hardened features, ChiChi found her firm and utter hatred of the man dissolving. It seemed that there were some things Bulma didn't know about...she would have to pay hr a visit sometime soon.

* * *

Bulma typed furiously, punching the keys of her computer with triple the force needed to activate them. She had cried for hours, and when at last she had exhausted all her tears, the anguish had turned to anger. She welcomed the change - it was much more satisfying to be livid than to cry her eyes out, and she had been doing the latter far too much lately.

She really should have known better. Vegeta hadn't changed one bit, and he probably never would. Nothing was any better than the way it was before - the same arguments, the same heated tempers...even the process of their bickering was the same. They would both shout and vie to gain the upper hand, resulting in a standoff of icy glares and crossed arms.

What pained her more, however, was the fact that their relationship was rocky as ever it was; if it even existed at all anymore, that is. Bulma sighed. Weren't hard times supposed to bring people closer together? She snorted.

I guess not.

She drained the last bit of liquid still in her glass, adding it to the several empty glasses already littering the desktop. She wondered bitterly if things would ever change between them.

Vegeta would begin to soften ever so slightly, start to make her believe that he cared. She had almost dared to hope that he really loved her when he had shown such respect on the battlefield, and the gentle way in which he cradled her as he carried her home...but as always, her hopes proved to be false. The moment died, and he retreated back to his infernal gravity chamber, shutting her out. Nothing had changed.

But then again, there had to be something there...as he carried her, through her tears she had felt the same tenderness, the same cautious way in which he held her, as if she were made of delicately wrought glass. She could remember that same feeling as she would lie back against him late at night, his arms encircling her with such protectiveness and possessive care...how could anyone possibly make her feel like that if their feelings weren't mutual?

Stop it. She told herself firmly. You're only going to make it harder. It didn't matter what he felt or did not feel; she had made a vow that she would never forgive him for the deaths of her friends, and she would remain faithful to that vow, even if it meant the end of any happiness she may ever have had with him. They died because he hid - nothing he could ever do would be enough to make things right again.

"Yamucha...Kuririn..." she felt the sobs begin to rise up, and angrily she forced them back. "I'll never forgive him for what he's done to you." Her voice was barely a whisper, and she bowed her head with closed eyes, swearing her oath to those who died.

"Never."

Her insides twisted as she said it, and a lone, crystal drop trailed down her cheek, but she had made her decision. Nothing would move her from it,

He made her so angry! That certainly hadn't changed either. He knew every trick, ever expression, sneer, smirk, and comment that would set her off. He had even gone so far as to make her yell at her own son, and that in itself was unforgivable. She would never forget the look of betrayal that haunted her baby's cerulean eyes as she screamed at him, nor the four, hurtful words which came from his mouth as he curled up defensively in a corner while she typed.

Mommy mean like Daddy.

Bulma clenched her jaw. She was NOT like him - she wasn't a murderer.

* * *

Vegeta rapped once on the door to Bulma's lab. When no answer came, he raised his hand again, but instead of knocking, he prepared a small energy blast and blew the door into a misshapen heap of half-melted steel.

Bulma whirled on her computer chair and stared at the remains of the door in incredulous anger.

"What do you think you're doing?" she screeched, jumping up to examine the ruined doorway. "I told you to leave me alone!"

Vegeta did not retreat, but instead grabbed her chin in one hand and forced her to look at him. Bulma's eyes blazed, and she wrenched her chin from his grasp roughly.

"Get your hands off me, you vermin!" she spat, and began readying herself for his undoubtedly scathing reply.

"Who killed the others and destroyed South City? Does anyone know?"

The question took Bulma by surprise, but she recovered herself quickly. With a murderous, accusing glare, she hissed,

"You did."

Vegeta's temper flared, and he fought to keep it from bursting outward. Nevertheless, a short roar of impatience erupted from his throat, and blue flames danced over his skin.

"WOMAN!!" he bellowed, voice so filled with severity that Bulma was jolted out of her obstinate state. "Tell me now!!"

Bulma's glare did not waver and she crossed her arms, but she answered. Her voice was cold and bitter, as if sending deadly venom towards those of which she spoke.

"Two jinzouningen. They arrived out of nowhere and attacked the city for no apparent reason. They were the ones who killed everyone..." Her eyes suddenly flashed. "But I still hold you responsible for their deaths!!"

Vegeta snarled, then turned sharply on his heel and marched determinedly away. Only then did Bulma notice that he was clad in his old, beaten Saiyan armour. Unexpectedly, a fear suddenly awoke within her, and she ran to stand in front of him. Vegeta stopped, though his entire being radiated impatience.

"Where are you going?"

Vegeta glanced out the window quickly, restless to make his departure.

"I felt a large number of civilian life forces suddenly die from one location. The rate of death keeps increasing, all in the same city. I was baffled that I could not feel any large powers capable of such a massacre, but your information has presented that solution at least. It must be the jinzouningen once again - they have shown this kind of destructive power before, and being artificial, they have no life force."

He suddenly glared at her.

"Are you going to let me pass, woman? I believe you howled at me that I did not fight in the last battle, so if don't mind," he sneered, sarcasm dripping thickly from every syllable, "I'll be leaving to do so now."

Without waiting for an answer, Vegeta brushed past her, ran out onto the porch, and took off into the air with such speed that not even a trail of access energy remained in the sky behind him. Bulma ran to the open window and screamed angrily at the place in the sky where he last had been.

"I hope you die!!"

This time, however, she could not bear to wait alone at home, waiting for news, as she had been forced to do before. There was only one thing which she could think to do - picking up her slumbering son, she jogged out onto the lawn and climbed into her jet copter. A few moments later, she too disappeared beyond the clouds.

* * *

"He just makes me so mad, ChiChi!" Bulma burst out finally after recounting all events since Vegeta's return. Once again she sat across from her friend in the Son household, a place which had become a refuge for her over the past months.

"I'd almost convinced myself that things might get better now that he's back, but I was just fooling myself. He's just the same as always. It's hard to believe I fell for him in the first place."

Something inside her twisted savagely as she spoke, and once again Bulma found herself angrily fighting back tears. He hadn't changed - and that was what hurt. He was the very same man he had been when she so foolishly fell in love with him, yet now they were distanced more than they had ever been.

Quite suddenly, ChiChi began to laugh. Bulma bristled slightly in defense and indignation as re raven-haired companion continued to extol her private mirth. She crossed her arms in a now habitual defensive manner.

"Would you care to enlighten me on just what is so outrageously funny?"she asked, a little more acidly than she had intended. ChiChi stopped laughing, though the corners of her mouth still twitched upwards. Bulma raised a coldly inquisitive brow. "Well?"

ChiChi locked sparkling eyes with her friend and shook her head in wonder.

"Honestly, Bulma, are you blind?" Though she still chuckled, the question was direct. Bulma looked rather injured.

ChiChi sat forward and clasped Bulma's hands in her own, her expression one of a knowing mother, even though she was the younger of the two.

"Bulma," she began simply, face serious. "Think about it. Would someone as proud and selfish as Vegeta have put himself in such a vulnerable position and come back here if he didn't love you?"

Bulma pulled her hands from ChiChi's grasp and sat back against the couch, eyes distant with deep-set remorse.

"I'd be surprised if he's even capable of that now."

ChiChi threw up her hands in exasperation.

"Bulma, for crying out loud! You're acting like a teenager! Will you stop denying the obvious already?"

The blue haired woman looked sharply at her friend, but her expression was pained. She sighed defeatedly.

"I wish I could believe you, ChiChi, I really do..." she said softly, lowering her gaze to the floor and picking absently at the skin around one thumbnail. A faint glimmer of moisture glittered in the corner of her eye. "But I just can't anymore." She raised her face, the single tear sliding silently down her ivory cheek.

"When I was standing out there among the bodies -" she choked on the words, but swallowed and forced herself to continue. "I don't know exactly what happened, but somehow I re-opened the link we used to share. I think that I was hurting so badly, I needed someone to lean on, and I subconsciously reached out to him, out of old habit, most likely. When I felt him linked to me again, I can't explain it. It just felt...wonderful. Even as my eyes took in the carnage at my feet, I felt so safe with him there, so close to me, like we used to be."

Her expression suddenly hardened, and she jerked her gaze away, sapphire eyes glinting with pain glazed over by cold, emotionless ice.

"But he shut it off." Her voice was crisp and completely void of any hint to her current feelings. "Even as I welcomed the link, he closed it. I felt him shut me out, I felt his mind close itself to mine." Another tear escaped.

"Do you see now, ChiChi? He doesn't want to be with me anymore. I know you're only trying to help, and that's very sweet of you, but it hurts when you try to convince me and I already know the real truth."

A somewhat stunned silence followed, both women unmoving. ChiChi's gaze was fixed on Bulma, while hers on the ground. Finally, the younger woman broke the silence.

"Look, I don't know what happened that day, and I'm not going to pretend that I understand everything that happens between you." Bulma flicked her eyes at her friend as a moment, and ChiChi firmly held her gaze.

"But I do know this: Something about Vegeta has changed since he left you. I saw it when he came here earlier today...whether you accept it or not, he feels more for you than you seem to think. Even he can't completely ignore everything that's been happening lately...I think he needs you just as much as you need him. Vegeta's more human than you give him credit for."

Bulma's gaze became inquisitive.

"What are you so forgiving of him all of a sudden?" she queried, her head cocked to one side in curiosity. Her hair fell across her neck and one shoulder in a silken turquoise wave, and she tucked it automatically behind her ear. "I thought you hated him."

ChiChi smiled and looked out the window, face assuming that regretful, distant expression which had become so common on her features since her husband's death.

"I suppose because I've learned the hard way not to hold back from people. There were so many things I wish I had told Goku, but I held back for too long, and now I'll never get the chance. I was always too hard on him - I thought I was protecting him by demanding he stay home all the time. I wish I could change all of that now, but it's too late. And now with everyone joining him up there...it makes you realize how pointless all of this hostility and these old grudges are. Losing so many people who were close to me has made me want to give everyone a second chance - even someone as

unpleasant as Vegeta."

Bulma felt her resolve crumbling away as she looked at her friend. ChiChi was stronger than she had ever imagined - the calm way in which she spoke, and though her charcoal eyes glistened with moisture, no tears fell. It made Bulma feel more like a foolish schoolgirl than ever as she took in the calm acceptance in which ChiChi lived her grief-stricken life.

But even that did not last. Ever so slowly, the cold determination crept over Bulma's face, hardening her features into an icy facade. When she spoke, her voice once again reverberated with that emotionless tone.

"I know you're right, but it won't change anything. Whether he feels for me or not, it doesn't matter. I swore I would never forgive him for letting our friends die, and I have no intention of breaking that oath."

ChiChi's head snapped around suddenly, and she stared at her friend incredulously, eyes wide and blazing with both fire and tears. The mask which had been in place throughout their entire visit fell away, and Bulma saw for the first time that day just how deeply her friend was grieving. Abruptly, ChiChi stood up and strode quickly out of the room. Bulma watched in surprise, suddenly overwhelmed by the notion that she had said something very, very wrong.

Leaving Trunks slumbering peacefully on the couch protected by pillows, she cautiously followed her fuming companion.

She found ChiChi in the kitchen, furiously scrubbing dishes that were already clean. Not one item came into her hands, however, without shattering within seconds in the woman's angry grip. Shards of glass cut into her hands, but she did not stop or reduce her frenzied pace, the soapy water slowly tainting a pale crimson as she worked.

Bulma lay a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"ChiChi, did I say —"

Her words were cut off as the widow spun around, eyes ablaze. In her hands she clutched a large glass which miraculously was still in one piece.

"Do you have any idea just how fortunate you are?" she demanded, voice rising in volume on every word. Bulma jumped backwards in shock - she had seen ChiChi angry before, and it was always a scary sight to behold, but never like this, and certainly never directed at her.

"Do you know what I would give to have Goku back in my arms again? Maybe I didn't know Kuririn and Yamucha as long or as well as you did, but I'm suffering every bit as much as you are, believe me! You think it didn't hurt me when they died? You are so blessed, Bulma!! You have a man that you love and who loves you back whom you can turn to when things like this happen, and you're too blasted stubborn to let yourself lean on him!"

The glass had long since shattered, and both ChiChi's bloody fists were clenched.

"I would kill to be in your place, and to have my Goku home safe where he belongs! I've lost the only man I've ever loved or will love, and I'm not going to let the same thing happen to you when it's still preventable! For once in your life for Kami's sake, Bulma, stop being so SELFISH!!"

ChiChi whirled sharply back to the sink, though this time all she could do was lean wearily against it, nursing her injured hands as if she was only noticing now how badly they were cut.

Bulma stood rooted to the spot, stunned into silence by ChiChi's outburst. Only the ears streaming from her eyes betrayed the impression that she very well may have been a statue. Slowly - nervously - she approached her grieving friend, cautiously making tentative eye contact.

"I'm sorry."

With a broken sob, ChiChi turned and enveloped Bulma in a tight hug. The other woman sighed with heart-felt relief and returned the embrace, not caring that ChiChi's hands were most likely soiling the back of her shirt with blood as they both wept.

They remained so for several minutes, reinforcing and strengthening their friendship as they shared unspoken but mutual sorrows. At last, ChiChi pulled away and looked Bulma squarely in the eye.

"I think you should know that Vegeta wouldn't have been able to save them anyway." she toned softly. "He's not responsible for their deaths, only the Androids are. Gohan told me that when Piccolo was killed, he reached a new level of power, one that dwarfed Vegeta's strength, and still he was no match for the jinzouningen. He only survived because they chose to spare him and wait until he'd grown older." She looked at Bulma with knowing compassion.

"You see? Had Vegeta been there, we would have lost him, too."

Bulma smiled through her tears, wiping the moisture from her cheeks. She opened her mouth to say something, when suddenly her expression changed to one of horror.

"Oh no..." she whispered hoarsely. "On NO!!"

ChiChi watched in confusion as Bulma fled from the room, already throwing on her jacket.

"Will you watch Trunks for me a while? I have to go somewhere..." her voice was shaking, and her normally so confident blue eyes were wild with fear like a nervous young horse. ChiChi ran into the living room just as her friend was bolting for the door.

"Bulma, what's going on?" she demanded, more concerned than confused by now.

The turquoise-haired woman paused, one hand frozen on the doorknob, face contorted with fear and dread combined. The single word which came in a whisper from her lips explained everything in one dreadful heartbeat;

"Vegeta."

~~*~~

A/N: Phew!!! Sorry this chapter took so long to get posted, and that it's so short!!! I promise the next chapter will be action, as this one was mainly dialogue, and I apologize for that, too. 'Till then, though, bye byes!!