A/N: Please Review and leave your feelings and thoughts!

Bulma sat at the center of a circle of chairs, dabbing the corner of her eye as a lady sitting beside her patted her shoulder. "I'm so glad that I have gotten this far. I couldn't have done it without you all... I'm proud to say at this point, I have been sober for 8 months... It wasn't easy, and there were many times where I struggled, but I didn't give up. And I don't plan to now."

"Congratulations, Bulma! You deserve it!" They all clapped for her and congratulated her as she bowed her head and smiled, the small figure in the background, her daughter smiling through the window.

The Briefs Residence:

It was a long day, filled with tears, laughter and joy for the bluenette beauty as she switched off the vacuum and rolled it back into the closet, humming happily as she straightened up the house. She adjusted the delicate glass set of blue roses in their vase on the mantle that a certain unnamed 'secret admirer' had surprised her with this afternoon when she came home and found it sitting on the table.

Perfect. Everything will be perfect this time. No more stumbling, no more broken glasses. Bulma Briefs, you still got it.

She lifted her head high and giggled to herself as she walked away, still humming her happy tune. She hears the phone ring and pauses.

"Oh, who could that be?" Bulma said, as she walked over to pick up the phone, twirling the chord around her finger as the person on the other line startled her with a happy greeting.

"Woo hoo! You did it!"

Bulma laughed, "Hi Goku, Hi Chichi!"

"Sooo... Tell us all the details!" Chichi said, as Bulma walked over and sat down at the table, recanting the events of her day, with a small sob as she finished her story.

"Oh, Bulma, I'm so proud of you! I knew you could do it!"

"Thank you, Chichi... At least you think so..." She said with a small sniff.

Eight months sober and still nothing. He still gives me that look as if he's suspicious I've fallen off the wagon.

"No... you mean he still...?" Her friend said softly, as if afraid to utter the words.

"B-but things are getting better! You know, the other day he called me...mom..."

Bulma blushed, feeling silly for being glad of such a small milestone.

Of course he would call me mom... I am his mother... She allowed her thoughts to drift a moment as Chichi gave her words of encouragement, with little interruptions from Goku who was listening in.

"How about you all come over tonight, and I'll make a nice celebratory dinner? Bulma?"

Bulma snapped out of her daydreaming, shaking her head.

"Oh, yeah, sounds great! What time?"

Later that day:

Bra and Bulma were both getting ready to go, after having knocked on the door to the Gravity Chamber she convinced her sweaty husband to come out and get dressed to go. He would have put up a fight but there was food involved, and after all it was Bulma's day. He wouldn't miss it.

Trunks came home not long after, peeling off his blazer and sighing as he walked in the door. He walked to the kitchen and got himself a glass of water and turned around as Bulma and Bra walked out, chatting happily. He smiled, noticing the light, cheerful atmosphere and feeling welcomed by it after a long day of work. Trunks admired his sister and mother as they displayed their casual dresses, with Bulma wearing a modest dark green dress that made her hair color seem to pop even more. He noticed under her eyes seemed brighter, less sunken in, her azure irises alive with life.

"Wow... you two look... nice? Going somewhere?" He said.

Bra jokingly spat her tongue out at him, turning and adjusting the sleek strapless purple dress her mother had finally passed the ok on for her to wear, as long as she wore a cardigan.

Bulma walked by and dangled the small AA poker chip attached to her watch like a jewelry charm, giggling.

"Eight months, baby!" She teased, and he patted her on the back gently.

"That's great, mom. I'm happy for you." He said, a bit stilted. She looked to him for some type of reassurance, a questioning gaze in her eyes. Trunks sighed and gave her the hug she had been hoping for, rubbing her back. Bulma rested her head on his chest and smiled, clutching him to her.

"Get freshened up, Mommy's boy. We're eating Kakarot's harpy's cooking tonight." Vegeta said in passing, looking back with the tiniest smirk.

Trunks brushed off the teasing comment and nodded, releasing Bulma and giving his father a teasing shove as he walked by.

"Hey! Don't push it, unless you want your appetizer to be a knuckle sandwich! "

He called up the stairs, then chuckled as Trunks shouted back with a sarcastic tune, "I don't know, guess we'll see how much of an appetite I have..."

Then Bulma came up to Vegeta and kissed him on the cheek, startling him a little.

"Thank you for the roses... mystery man."

He backed away and stuttered a little,

"Well, l-let's get going before that idiot eats it all!"

The Son Residence:

The small kitchen was cozy and warm as the two families were sitting down for dinner, the Sons on one side, and the Briefs on the other.

"This is a great roast Chichi, you'll have to show me the recipe!" Bulma said sweetly as she cut her portion. Chichi looked to Videl and smiled, "Actually, it was Videl who cooked it. I did the rest."

"Oh? Nice job, Videl." Bulma said, and the girl nodded, feeling abashed.

"Thank you.."

They looked back down at their plates as they ate, somehow the topic of Bulma's recovery seemed harder to bring up then they thought, as the two families ate.

"So..." Chichi started, resting one hand on Goku's shoulder to try and catch his attention.

"We're very proud to hear that it's been eight months for you now, Bulma!"

Goku looked up a moment and nodded, "Yeah, congrats!" He said between bites of food. Everyone around the table congratulated Bulma, besides Trunks, who only nodded in agreement.

Bulma tried not to take his silence as a disagreement. He said congratulations earlier. I know that Trunks is happy for me, he said so...

"Thanks everyone, it wasn't easy..." She said, feeling proud.

"...Eight months is very good. But you have to keep up with it." Trunks said lowly, slicing into his pork roast rather quickly.

"O-Of course, I will!" Bulma said, giggling.

"I'm sure. But people do relapse. Even after years of being sober, it can happen to anyone." He said darkly, glancing up at her a moment with a frown passing over his features.

"Boy, your mother has made a great achievement. Don't go squandering it." Vegeta clipped back, glaring at him in warning. Bulma watched as there was a short exchange of deadly glances between the both of them. It was Chichi who spoke up first to clear the tension.

"Oh! Would anyone like more gravy?"

She said, thinking of the quickest thing to take their minds off of it. Goku nodded, and she got up to fetch the pitcher.

"Could you pass me the peas, Dad?" Bra said softly, and he slid it over to her. She scooped out a spoonful and dished it onto her plate, oddly quiet.

"Actually, I'd like more too." Trunks piped up after a moment, and Bulma instead of Bra reached over to hand them to him.

"Uh, no thanks." He said quickly, and looked back down.

"But, you just said you wanted some?" Bulma said, her voice rising. He looked to her and frowned.

"I guess I changed my mind. It happens."

She held the container in mid air a moment, then set it down with a thud.

"Really, Trunks? Do you have to do this now?" She hissed, feeling embarrassed as the silence was overwhelming.

"I've been trying my best... I haven't fallen over, or dropped anything in weeks. I go to AA three times a week!" She stuttered, tears budding in the corners of her eyes.

"Its been eight measley months! Everyone acts like this is the end, well it's not!" He spat back at her, to the shock of everyone at the table. Bulma stood up and her entire body shook she was so infuriated with him.

"I have had it with your rotten attitude! WHAT THE HELL is it going to take for you to trust me?! I have done EVERYTHING I could!" Bulma screams, her voice cutting through the dense tension.

Trunks stood and yelled back, "I CAN'T TRUST you! I can't allow myself to get my hopes up, because I never know when you're going to fail again!"

'CRACK!'

Bulma grimaced as she slapped him with all her might, she was so fed up with his bullshit at this point, he deserved whatever he got.

"Trunks, I love you, and I know you love me too, but these days you act as if you hate me. I wish I could go back in time and change that night but I can't. If you really hate me that much then I'll leave." Bulma said quietly, stifling a sob. A chair pulled out and Bra stood quickly, taking her hand.

"Come on, Mom. I'll take you home."

She took Bra's hand and shuffled quickly out of the room, waiting until they were out the front door to break down in tears.

As Bulma left, she dug around in her purse for a tissue, unknowingly pulling out a very crumpled, folded over letter that she had written at the beginning of her classes as therapy, but had never given to the intended person it was written to. As the car door slammed shut, the paper floated quickly by on the brisk breeze.

Trunks opened the door, and watched as the car pulled away, a strained expression on his face as Goku clutched him by the shoulders to restrain him from following. He looked down at the ground and squeezed his eyes shut, opening them as the small square of folded over and over again paper rolled over and hit his foot. He bent down and picked it up, unfolding each worn corner. The paper fluttered on the breeze as he read.

Dear Trunks,

I am an alcoholic. I need help.

Don't allow me to lie to you and accept it as the truth, for in so doing, you encourage me to lie. The truth may be painful but, it's necessary.

Don't allow me to outsmart you. This only teaches me to avoid responsibility and to lose respect for you at the same time.

Don't let me exploit you or take advantage of you. In doing so, you become an accomplice to my evasion of responsibility.

Don't lecture me, moralize, scold, praise, blame, or argue when I'm drunk or sober. And don't pour out my liquor; you may feel better, but the situational stress will only get worse.

Don't accept my promises. This is just my method of postponing pain. And don't keep switching agreements. If an agreement is made, stick to it.

Don't lose your temper with me. It will destroy you and any possibility of helping me.

Don't allow your anxiety for us to compel you to do what I must do for myself.

Don't cover up or abort the consequences of my drinking. It reduces the crisis but perpetuates the illness.

Above all, don't run away from reality as I do. Alcoholism, my illness, gets worse as my drinking continues. Start now to learn, to understand, and to plan for my recovery. I need help from a doctor, a counselor or a psychologist, a recovered alcoholic, from God. I cannot help myself.

I hate myself, but I love you. To do nothing is the worse choice you can make for us.

Please help me,

Your Alcoholic Mother, Bulma.