Author's Note: Two chapters in two days! I'm going on vacation next week so I wanted to make sure I left on a high note :) No new chapter next week, but will be sure to update when I get back home. Thanks again for all the reviews and likes - I am loving that you are loving my story!


The TV had gone black a long time ago.

It had been hours since they had last seen any sort of feed, and Bulma and Chi-Chi could've made grooves in the floor with how much they paced. Dr. Briefs, Kygo, Panchy, Master Roshi—a whole crowd had congregated at Capsule Corp. to watch the fight, and when it went black, it sent everyone into a bit of an overdrive.

Despite that, no one dispersed. Meals were consumed and conversations were had—about what, no one really knew—and they tried to shove down the festering thought that the Z fighters might have lost. Hope dwindled as each minute on the clock came and went, but there was still something keeping their encouragement flickering: If Cell had defeated them already, he would've no doubt started his assault on the people of Earth right away.

It was the middle of the afternoon and the sun was hanging lower and lower. Bulma errantly rocked baby Bulla with one arm and stirred a spoon into a cup of tea, the metal clanging at the bottom of the china acting as her own personal metronome. She was desperate for Vegeta and Bulla to come back but was trying her best to remain calm.

From her arm came a delicate coo—the baby was awake. Bulla was a sweet child, playful and curious just like her mother. Even though she was still quite young, she had a serious streak, too, just like her dad. Since future Bulla had arrived at Capsule Corp., Bulma wondered whether Vegeta would change at all. Before he was in and out without a whim, giving little care about his child or her. Maybe getting to know the adult version of his daughter would ignite something in him that he had not felt when the baby version was born.

When Bulla was born, it was all-consuming for Bulma. She had never felt a feeling like the one she had when she finally got to hold her child. It was so much deeper and richer than any relationship she had been in before. Food was more vibrant on her tongue and smells were even sweeter than before. The sun didn't shine, it danced around and bathed the world in a warm glow.

How someone could not look at their child and feel completely consumed by love was hard for Bulma to imagine.

She did not regret having a baby with Vegeta. She did not regret loving him. Could life have been easier with someone else? It most assuredly could have been. But that was Bulma—never one to take the easy route, always up for a challenge.

Pounding footsteps echoed through the corridor and Bulma swiveled to look. In the doorway stood her father, heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His face was desperate and his eyes had grown at least three sizes. His bottom lip quivered as he steadied himself in the door frame. Whatever he was coming to tell her was not good.

"Bulma," he said, still gasping for air. "It's Vegeta. He's back."

"What?" She clutched her baby in her arms and husted toward the door. Together they sailed down the hallway, Bulma's breath also quickening.

"Is Cell dead?"

"Yes," Dr. Briefs said, shuffling his feet. "Yes, he is."

If Cell was dead, why did he look so worried? There was something he was not telling her, something that had caused him to rush and worry in the first place. She swallowed hard. They came to the kitchen and quickly flew through the doors and out onto the back lawn where Bulma's guests had formed a circle. Whatever they were looking at was concealed by their backs, and the closer Bulma got, the tighter her chest became.

A muffled cry came from someone—it sounded like Chi-Chi—and she parted the small group of onlookers so she could see for herself. It was Vegeta resting on his knees, and on the ground in front of him was Bulla.

Bulma had never had an out-of-body experience before, but before she knew it, she was outside of herself. She was floating up above, seeing her daughter from the future laid out on the grass, a gaping black hole in her head. She could see the tears forming in her own eyes, feel the wind as it whipped against her, smell the earthiness of the freshly cut grass. Time grinded to a painstakingly slow tick and the view of everyone else evaporated into the afternoon sky.

The only other thing she could see was Vegeta, his black eyes mournfully fixated on her.

"She's dead," Bulma cried. "She died."

Someone grabbed her baby from her arms and Bulma fell to her knees. Her hands hovered above the young warrior's body, moving back and forth as if Bulma didn't know exactly if she could touch her. Finally, her hand fell and she ran her fingers over Bulla's head. In that moment she wished she could drink up one last drop of her, that the warmth would return to her cheeks.

Shock pulsated through her, but Bulma was never one to let a situation out smart her. She looked straight at Vegeta.

"The dragon balls," she said, her voice dripping in hope. "We can use the dragon balls to save her."

"We can't," Vegeta sounded hollow. "They're gone."

"What do you mean they're gone? What happened to them?"

Vegeta looked down again at his daughter. Bulma swore she could see tears forming.

"Piccolo and Kami merged before the fight," Vegeta said. "I only learned of it before going into the time chamber."

"Has he lost his mind?" Chi-Chi snapped from behind. Vegeta did not turn to look at her, but Bulma did. "What was he thinking?"

"He thought it would help us in the fight," Vegeta's voice was uncharacteristically small.

Chi-Chi seethed. For as long as she had known the Z Fighters, they had always found ways to sabotage themselves time and time again. Why would Piccolo be so reckless as to merge with Kami when they knew they would need the dragon balls? She clenched her fists.

"How stupid could he be to do that?" She shouted. "How irresponsible!"

"Chi-Chi," Master Roshi pleaded, outstretching his hand as if to stop her from lunging forward. "This isn't the time for this."

"It is the time for this!" She swung her head around to look at the old man. "It didn't have to end this way!"

"They did what they had to do," Master Roshi responded.

"And for what!"

"For the fate of humanity," the old man spat.

"Silence!" Vegeta's voice rang like a bell. Everyone's attention snapped to him—everyone except Bulma. Her eyes were still fixated on the corpse of her daughter. "We cannot change what we have done. We must accept the reality we were dealt."

He stood up, stepped over Bulla's body and parted the crowd, making his way back toward the house. A hand shot out and grabbed him by the bicep—a weak grip, one he could've easily overpowered—but he let it hang there. It was Dr. Briefs.

The two had not spoken much beyond their discussions on the training tech the scientist built. Vegeta always got the sense Dr. Briefs tolerated him solely for the sake of his daughter and whatever type of relationship it was they had formed. For the first time, though, Vegeta saw something different in Dr. Briefs, almost as if the old man pitied him.

"Why did she die?"

His words hung suspended in the air. Slowly, Vegeta turned to look at him. As he examined him, he realized that Bulla resembled him in a way, too. He wondered if an ache throbbed through him like it did Vegeta, like the knick of a knife flicking over an exposed piece of skin.

"She sacrificed herself so Gohan could kill Cell," he said somberly. "She died a hero."


Bulma's eyes were raw and red. Everything in her body felt like she'd received a thorough flogging. Seeing her daughter's lifeless body lying on the ground in front of Vegeta made her feel a sense of pure, seething agony that she had never felt before. It scraped against her, tore at her skin and bones and left her feeling hollow and alone.

Kygo had moved Bulla's body to the lab and Bulma's family and friends rallied around her, but Vegeta had disappeared again. All she wanted was for him to hold her, for him to tell her it was going to be alright, but his selfishness won out to his empathy once again. As much as she hated him for it, her desire for him remained.

She looked down on her baby sleeping peacefully in her crib. The walls of the nursery were a soft pink and had drawings of forest creatures dancing around the white molding at the top. The crib was bone white, as was all the furniture inside, and there were piles upon piles of teddy bears and dolls and books all around. A mound of blue hair pricked the top of Bulla's head, and she let out a sigh as she dreamed.

It was strange to Bulma to feel so sad about a loss when her version of the child she was grieving was still alive. She wondered when her future-self would realize her daughter was not coming home. She wondered if she would sit in this very room at the Capsule Corp. of the future, desperately rubbing her face in a worn shirt to catch her daughter's scent just one more time.

Oh, how her heart ached.

Behind her, she heard the door open. She turned and was stunned once again: It was Vegeta.

He was still in his clothes from the battle, dirt and blood smeared his armor and pockets of skin showed from the cuts of his training suit. His eyes were heavy and his expression was blank. He stood there examining Bulma with a sadness that she had never seen before and his chest rose and fell with deep breaths.

"Bulma," his voice cracked. "I…"

He moved forward toward her and grabbed her by the waist, falling to his knees and pulling her into him. His head rested on her stomach—the same belly that nurtured and grew their child only a few months ago—and nuzzled into her. His hands gripped her hips and he wrapped around her.

As his face pressed into her, heavy sobs escaped his lips. Bulma responded by gently cradling his face in her hands and running her fingers through his hair. She began crying, too, her tears falling from her face and onto him.

For the first time since they had met, Bulma had felt incredibly close to him. Stripped away of his ego and his pride, Vegeta was just a man, and now he had come to her irrevocably broken. He laid bare his soul in her arms, and the harder he cried the harder he pressed.

Bulma knelt down and he released his grip. Pressing their foreheads together, she dragged her thumb across his face and wiped away the teardrops lining his dirt-caked cheeks. As she caressed his skin, he tilted his head up just slightly.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I couldn't save her."

Her hands cascaded down his neck and to his shoulders, and she pushed him away so they could look at one another. Tears brimmed her captivating blue eyes, gently telling Vegeta without words that he was safe and loved.

"It's okay, Vegeta," she whispered. "It's not your fault."

"I didn't even try," he gritted his teeth. "She went out into the ring and she…"

"I know," she cooed. "She was so brave."

He closed his eyes and grimaced. Since watching her die, it had played over and over in his head. He went to the gravity room and beat himself down with an aggressive intensity, praying he might feel just a sliver of pain that she did. He screamed himself hoarse, rammed himself up against the wall. A broken man deserved a broken body.

Gero had told him back in the lab that he was lucky for knowing the Briefs. Vegeta knew what he meant: That he had found a family that was resourceful and smart, people that could set him up to live out the warrior's fantasy he had chased for so long.

But what Gero didn't know is that he was lucky for an entirely different reason. His whole life he had been a caged beast gnawing at the chance to be free. But in her arms—in her presence—he was nothing but a house cat. He liked it that way.

He had already decided before the Cell Games that he was going to stay. And then he saw his daughter die and knew staying would simply not be enough.

"I will never leave you," he whispered to her, grabbing her face now. "I will never leave you."

"Vegeta," she said breathlessly.

"I love you." The air sucked out of the room. "You are everything to me."

"I love you, too," Bulma whimpered.

They sat there on the ground for a long while, holding each other, crying as their faces pressed against one another. For the first time all day, Vegeta felt the veil of sorrow lift slowly from his broken heart.