Chapter Two:

"Hey Mr. King Vegeta, guess what? I'm your half-breed grandson from another dimension and I need your help getting home. Oh, and I can go Super Saiyan. Whee!"

The king looked decidedly unimpressed to Trunks, but he wasn't quite sure. It was hard to read the expression of the tree that was currently serving as a stand-in while Trunks rehearsed his first meeting with the man.

Maybe bluntness wasn't the best approach. In fact, it might not be wise to reveal exactly *who* he was before he could be sure that the king would help him.

Trunks lashed out with one leg, connecting solidly with the tree/king. He felt a small degree of satisfaction as he watched it shatter on impact. But the mood was short lived as he returned to the problem at hand. Strategy had never been his thing and he didn't see how he could plan anything with the limited knowledge he had. In one quick motion he took to the sky and headed toward the palace. He supposed he'd just have to improvise.

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II

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She knew her window of time to escape was closing as the team of six palace guards removed her from her cell, though she was perversely pleased at the number of burly men they believed were needed to escort her through the palace. She was filthy, bruised and exhausted but she refused to give them the satisfaction of giving up.

"So... where we going boys?" She asked flippantly but received no answer. "Too difficult to try to talk and walk at the same time? I forgot how hard multi-tasking was for those with such limited intellect." Not one of the six even spared her a glance. "Silly me, I was using multi-syllabic words again. Let me rephrase that into something you can understand-"

But she was cut off as the closest one on her left backhanded her across the mouth. "Shut up, your voice is grating on my last nerve." She stumbled slightly but raised her shackled hands to wipe the blood from her split lip. A sudden icy wind blew her hair back.

"That was a mistake."

She looked over towards the doorway and saw a young boy casually leaning against one wall. His tone was level and she could tell he was putting up a calm front but his hand betrayed him, shaking, as he pushed his lilac hair back.

Trunks willed himself to calm down. He was barely suppressing the urgent need his body felt to go Super Saiyan to protect his Mom. His whole body trembled in rage seeing her dirty and abused. He would payback every blow she was dealt thrice-fold...but first he needed to get her out safely. He hadn't detected any ki around them high enough to be a problem to him, but there was so many that he couldn't risk one getting a lucky shot at his Mom.

"The only mistake around here will be yours if you don't get out of our way," one of the guards said as he gave Bulma a shove forward, "we don't have time for this, just keep going."

Something in side Trunks snapped as he saw the meaty hand on his mothers thin shoulder.

Bulma heard a distinct popping noise around her. The smell of death suddenly assaulted her senses and she turned away from the blood splattered on the walls and ceilings. The... thing that killed all those guards took a step forward as she took one back.

"I- I just.." A sob escaped its mouth. The voice so small and scared evaporated any fear and she knelt down to let the child run into her arms.

It was the first time Trunks had ever killed like that. Just so effortlessly, without thought. It wasn't even a battle, they were just alive and then not. The few other times he had been on the brink of that icy rage, something had always pulled him back. He sobbed into his Mother's shoulders, not caring at the moment that he was showing weakness.

"What the?" A new voice sounded and Trunks spun around to see a large Saiyan looking at the room. He spied the boy and advanced on him. "How- you little brat! It's treason to kill the King's men!"

Bulma placed herself between the man and the boy. "Don't you dare hurt him!" she warned, "he's just a child!"

She turned her head and closed her eyes at the sight of his raised hand. She'd gladly take a hit to divert his attention from the little boy behind her. She reached around behind her to reassure him but found only empty air. Opening her eyes as she heard a loud thud, the larger man landed unceremoniously in a heap against the far wall. Trunks stood before him, arms crossed and chin high.

"You're pathetic. My father would kill you just for being so weak!"

Nappa looked up at the powerful brat in front of him. Something about the way he stood was so familiar to him, but it wasn't until a look in the others eyes warned him of what was coming that he placed it. His last thought before darkness consumed him was of the miniature version of his prince.

"Come on, we have to get out of here." Trunks tugged her hand towards the doorway. He could sense more on the way to investigate what just happened.

They were coming in all directions.

He panicked for a second before noticing an open window and ran towards it.

"Oh no, I'm sorry, but there are doors for a reason-" Bulma began when she noticed his intent.

"We don't have time, they're coming!" Wide eyes and a wavering voice begged her to trust him.

Somehow, something inside her told her she was all he had, and nodded her head in consent. There was no way she would leave him alone without any protection, even after the powerful displays she witnessed earlier. He wrapped his arms around her and they took off, his flight dipping slightly as he tried to adjust her weight, before picking up speed and streaking away from the palace.

They touched down in a small clearing in the woods. The trees would give them some protection and there was plenty of game around. He tried to think of what his father would do first. Find food? Scout the area? Build shelter?

He had to be brave, he had to be strong.

"You must be hungry," he heard his mother's voice talking to him, "don't worry, I know I have food in one of these capsules, just sit down." She pushed his unmoving body down, "You've had a big day, haven't you? I'll make a fire and set up a tent and then we can eat dinner and you can tell me all about yourself, ok?" She busied herself setting up camp.

"I really want to thank you for saving me back there. You're such a strong little boy, and so brave," she unknowingly soothed away his fears, "I'm Bulma, what's your name?"

"Trunks."

"Hi Trunks, can you tell me how old you are?" She hadn't been able to place his age at all. He seemed so much older when he was rescuing her, more like a man in a child's body, but when she held him in her arms, she realized how young he was.

"I'm 7," he drew a line in the dirt with his foot.

"Seven?" She breathed, trying to wrap her mind around this new piece of information. How could a child of only seven knock out six adult saiyans in their prime?

"I'll be 8 in a couple months!" he told her defiantly, daring her to not believe him. She threw him a weak smile.

"I'm 18," she threw him another grin, "but I'll be 19 in 23 more days." Trunks looked at her more closely after her words, the dirt that covered her face couldn't hide the marks of the stress she must have been through. Her features though still beautiful, were more hardened, but her body was young, so much younger then his mothers. It was hard to reconcile the memory of his mother to this women in front of him, he might have mistaken them for two completely different people if it weren't for her trademark hair and fire that burned within her eyes.

"Trunks, where are your parents?" she asked softly, fearing she already knew the answer. He looked so small and alone. She just wanted to hold him and tell him everything would be all right, but she didn't know how true that was.

"They're...they're in a different dimension." Her heart broke a little more, even if she had anticipated the answer.

"When- When did they pass?" She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"They didn't." His head shot up to meet her questioning gaze, "I did. Earlier today."

"What?" Maybe it wasn't what she had expected...

"I don't know, I was there and then I was here."

"Maybe you'd better start at the beginning, Trunks." He sighed.

"I don't know. I was at home, looking for my mom when I found this," he gestured to the bulky watch on his left wrist, "in my Grandfather's lab. I thought it was a personal holographic movie player so I put it on to see what it had programmed on it, and the next thing I know I ended up here. I know I shouldn't have touched it. I'm not supposed to touch anything in the labs but I thought I knew what it was!" He defended his actions but when he noticed no disapproval in her face, he continued. "My home is on Earth, but I know it has to be more then just a transporter because Vegita-sei doesn't even exist anymore where I'm from. It was blown up when my father was only my age. Almost all the Saiyans died, except for a few that were off world at the time. Eventually, my dad ended up on Earth and met my mom and they had me."

"So your mom was an earthling? You're only half-saiyan?"

He nodded his head. "That's why I'm so much more powerful then a normal Saiyan would be at my age."

"And a lot nicer too." She smiled at him. "I, for one, am thankful for your human side. If you hadn't saved me back there..." But she shook her head, not wanting to worry the young boy that seemed so attached to her, "I guess I'm just lucky you came along." She finished more brightly.

"But why were you there? Why are you even on this planet?"

"In this dimension, it's Earth that is the one in trouble. I escaped with a friend when it was purged, but enough people survived that we're trying to find some help to take back the planet. Through a slight miscalculation I ended up here and got caught up in an entirely different fight. I guess we both ended up here as victims of chance. But since we're both here, we can look after each other. How does that sound?"

"Pretty good, actually." He smiled. "I went to the palace looking for someone else but I'm really happy I found you."

"Believe me, you're no happier then I am. Remember, you saved me." Something about the boys manners seemed a bit odd though, and she tried to identify the thought tickling the back of her mind. "Trunks, did you know me in your dimension?"

"Yes," he answered evenly and willed her to recognize him, to somehow figure it out.

The weird feeling she had gotten when she first saw him intensified, and she was sure there was still something he hadn't told her. "How?"

"You're my mother."

"Oh," was all she could manage as she fought to not faint. He was her son? This strange, brave little boy was hers? Her eyes softened as she watched him wait to see how she would respond. She could see beneath his calm front the fear that held him silent, afraid she was going to reject him. She pulled him into a hug, completely taken back as the trickle of maternal instincts that had started when she first saw him look so vulnerable turned into a torrent, rushing over her. Then she held him back at arms length so she could look over him again.

"Of course I am! I should of seen it from the start," he looked at her in surprise and wonder. "Who else could have possibly had such a handsome and strong young boy!" He smiled and ducked his head, slightly embarrassed as she unknowingly echoed words he had often heard from the other her. "But wait," He could see her eyes working through another problem. "You said you were half-saiyan. How could that be? No matter what dimension it is, I'm sure I'd never let one of those stupid, big, brutes touch me." she was quick to make amends, "Oh no offense to whoever your dad is, I'm sure he's a wonderful guy it's just that-"

"No, you're right, he's not a nice guy. I don't know why you," he stopped himself, "the other you that is, liked him in the first place."

"I still don't see how I could..." She let the sentence trail off, "What is he like. Tell me about him."

"I don't know too much about Dad, he's never really around, and when he is all we do is train." She heard the bitterness in his voice and knew that there was more to the story then he told her. "I know he's really proud, and stubborn. He cares about our heritage, he taught me what it was to be a saiyan, he taught me about honor." He tried to think of what else he knew about him. "He's so strong, I used to think he was the strongest in the world! Even now...I'm not so sure he isn't," she listened carefully as his voice lost its edge. He seemed awfully proud of someone who 'wasn't a nice guy'. She wondered what happened to cause him to hate anyone, nevertheless his father, and at such a young age. "He never shows weakness, and he's so determined. He demands so much of himself, and his family. He's smart too, not smart like my mom," he paused, "like you, but he knows so many strategies, his mind is always going, calculating what his next move should be. He doesn't believe in doing anything without a reason. Every movement has a purpose, every word, a point."

"Doesn't sound like such a bad guy to me."

"He's not really, I guess, it's just..."

"You said he's never around, where does he go?" Trunks eyes narrowed at her question and she knew she was on target. He sent a stray rock flying through the trees.

"I wouldn't know, I suppose telling his family where he goes doesn't seem necessary to him. It's always irregular, at least I haven't figured any kind of pattern out of it. He just leaves in the night and we won't hear for him for a couple months before he just shows up one morning, like nothing ever happened. But I don't care. I don't care if he goes or stays, I don't care about him." His voice was hardened but her heart broke for the little boy who didn't know his father's love. She felt it enough growing up herself, she knew now how much her dad did care for her, but he was so absentminded and driven by his own need to create bigger and better things. He had always just assumed she knew how much he cared. A child needs more then assumptions.

"It doesn't sound like you hate your father Trunks," she pulled his resisting body to her side and draped an arm around his shoulders. He tried to shrug off her comfort but she pulled him closer. "It sounds like he hurt you, and it sounds like he doesn't even know it. You need to talk to him about it." She searched for the right words to explain, "Some people, some people just don't know how to love others, or to show that they love them. Your father is hurting people unintentionally by not being able to show he cares, and now you seem to be following his footsteps. I know saiyans have some messed up ideas about weakness, and god knows what having one for a father has already done to you, but caring for people doesn't make you weak. When you feel for someone, it can be great, but it can also hurt. It takes a stronger person to accept the hurt and live through it. You're only taking the easy way off by blocking out emotions."

She watched him mull over her words in his head. Deciding a change of subject was in order, she asked him to tell her more about his home.

"So do you have many friends back home?"

"Friends? I don't need friends," he caught her disapproving look, "I suppose, if you wanted to stretch the term, I have a friend named Goten. He's a year younger then me, and half-saiyan too. He's always so happy and he never stands still. His father died before he was born though, so no one ever really taught him control. We fight a lot, and teach each other new moves. One time, he was over my house and we went down into the labs and-"

Trunks recounted various stories of their adventures and Bulma laughed with him, wishing she could keep him in this mood forever.

As their fire began to die down though, so did their moods. Neither wanted to let go of this night. Trunks never had so much time with his mother alone, there was always work or people around demanding her attention. Why couldn't he just stay in this world? Someone had to protect her and he could be with her all the time! He'd never have to share her again! Bulma was having somewhat similar thoughts, she didn't know how she was going to let go of the boy in her arms. He was so strong and handsome, he had her stubbornness but also a serious side. She wanted to stay with him and watch him become the man she caught glimpses of when he spoke. But she was more realistic. She still had enough to do with the resistance, and a war was not the place for a child, even one as strong as him.

"Trunks, have you figured out how that works yet?" she interrupted the silence and pointed to his armband.

"No, I just pressed this button and then flicked this switch and I was here."

"Maybe, I can figure out how it works. If my father is the one that created it, I might be able to get you home. I've had quite a few years to learn the way he thinks- though I doubt it's possible for anyone to ever really understand it. I might need some tools though and time. I don't want you to try anything with it until I'm fully sure it can get you back safely."

"I don't want to go back. I want to stay here."

"I wish you could stay too, Trunks, but it's too dangerous here. You could get hurt."

"But it's dangerous for you here too! At least if I stay I can protect you."

"This isn't your world. You need to be where you belong. You have a family that would miss you." He thought about his proud father and busy mother. "And who would keep Goten out of trouble?" His one real friend's face flashed into his mind. "Besides, with your father gone, who would look out for your mother?" The thought of anything happening to his Mom quickly decided it for him.

"I know your right. You usually are." He grumbled, "But I won't leave you here unprotected."

"Trunks, I'll be fine." He gave her a pointed look reminding her of how fine she was doing before he got here.

"No, you need me here. So if I'm going back to my home, we just need to make sure you have a Trunks here to protect you!" Bulma frowned at his logic and tried to follow.

"What are you saying?"

"It's simple. We need to find Dad."