Trunks lowered his crystal blue eyes as the glow of the red tail-lights exited his view, blinking hard as rain drops began to patter onto the faded ink of the letter. The words of his mother began to run all together in swirls of black ink as he felt his heart being crushed in his chest with a heavy feeling of regret.

Why wasn't I there for her when she needed me the most? When she just needed me to understand. To help her. Instead I screamed at her, treated her like she had lost all my respect. But she hadn't...I hurt her. In my anger, in my own selfish pain, I hurt my own mother...I'm such a horrible son...

He blinked, feeling the icy cold drops of rain down his cheeks, meandering with the heat of his tears and dripping down his chin as the paper became grey and crumpled in his hands.

"Trunks...? Come on in, it's cold." Goku said, resting one hand on his shoulder, startling him out of his silent reverie.

"Y-Yeah..." He muttered in response, dropping the paper listlessly, then wiped his cheeks. Trunks looked up as Chi-Chi offered him a towel to blot the wetness from himself with; her face taut with unreleased anger. He could feel it in her dark, ebony eyes as Goku took it and laid it across his shoulders, messing up his hair with one hand in an attempt to lighten up the situation.

Trunks dried himself off and walked past the both of them, meeting eyes with his father who stood across him, with his ki nearly boiling on the surface of his skin, ready to erupt.

"Trunks," He said, his eyes narrowing.

Trunks nodded, his father did not need to speak his own frustration; it was clear in his angered expression how he felt.

"Father, I..." He said softly, lowering his eyes.

"Boy, shut up. Look at me while I am speaking." Vegeta growled, and met his eyes once again with the hard intensity of red hot coals.

"What you did was unacceptable. I should backhand you through the wall for how you have disrespected your mother. That will be the last time you ever lie a hand on her. Understand?" He said, stepping forward once, threateningly.

Trunks nodded, gritting his teeth and clenching one hand into a fist. He wanted to scream, to punch that smug face and shake his father into submission, but he knew he would be tempting death to do so, as he clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. The dampness of the water dried and steamed off his shoulders as he let his rage slowly simmer within him, his breath quickening.

"Vegeta, may I speak to Trunks alone." Goku's voice said, flat and with a low quality that was not questioning as it should have been, instead, demanding.

Vegeta glanced to Goku and exhaled, then turned on his heel and went out the front door, presumably to go take his anger out from his son's inappropriate actions out on the mountain side, instead of on his face like he would have liked. The door slammed behind him and Goku sighed heavily behind Trunks, then patted him on the back, startling him. He followed Goku to the small sitting area in the rustic home, and they sat before the fireplace as Goku stirred the coals with a stick.

"Just tell me what you want to say, Goku. I know, you think that was a horrible thing for me to do and I should apologize, right?" He sneered, sarcastically.

Goku didn't give him an answer or even turn to acknowledge him; he gave his attention to making the fire larger and tossed another log on as Trunks looked out the window, seeing how the sky had become dark grey and sleet was beginning to fall in large, wet clumps.

"Sit down, Trunks. I'm not here to punish you. I just want to talk." Goku said, sitting cross legged on the floor as he was more accustomed to instead of on the couch, as Trunks did.

"Ok." He said, lacing his fingers together. The man had a calming aura about him, that in turn allowed Trunks's blood to stop boiling as he let out a long, shaky sigh.

Goku took a deep breath and responded, "Trunks, I have wanted to talk to you about this for some time now, but I held my tounge because I didn't feel it was my place. But we need to speak about what happened with you and your mother. The way you treated her tonight, and how you have been for the past year since your grandfather's passing, is not right." He said, and Trunks gulped down the rising feeling in his throat and clutched the leather couch cushion. He nodded, not wanting to speak for fear his voice would crack.

"I know how hard it has been to watch your mother go through this. It's been hard for me as well, I grew up with Bulma. She's my best friend, and if anyone knows what wonderful person she is, it's me." He said warmly, thinking back on fond memories.

"Bulma may have lost her way for a little while, and had some moments of weakness. We all do. But what you're doing is only hurting her more, can't you see that how she dealt with her grief, is the same as how you're dealing with your own? She wanted to forget her pain, you wanted to hide yours behind your anger. And now, things have come to a head and you can no longer hide it, neither can she."

Goku said, and Trunks looked up, with a pained expression.

"No! We aren't the same, she's gone to me! She's been lost since she picked up that bottle, she's no longer my mother, I don't know who she is anymore!" He cried out in anger, slamming one fist into the cushion.

Goku lowered his head and closed his eyes, shaking it side to side in disagreement.

"You're wrong, Trunks. It's you that's no longer the same. Bulma has been herself all along, it's you that has failed her. All she wanted was her son back, but now she's had to make it through this journey to sobriety without you, the one person she wanted to be there for her." He said, gulping as his own emotions dared to come to the surface. Trunks lifted his head, and covered his face as if he wanted to hide his hurt.

Vegeta watched as his son buried his face in his hands and sobbed, as Goku stood and rested his hand on his back; supporting and encouraging the outburst of grief that he recognized as weakness for a Saiyan.

He should cry, for what he did was cruel.

Vegeta thought; but couldn't express as he quickly darted away into the sheets of white snow that now crashed down sideways and coated the ground. He was unaffected by the cold, as snow fell down on his shoulders and melted from the sheer heat of his rage.

My Bulma, she will always be my Bulma no matter what.

Briefs Residence:

Bra stared up the stairs and bit her lip after her mother had stormed away, in a flurry of tears and hateful curses.

"Mom..." She whispered, feeling a pain in her chest as the door upstairs slammed and Bulma's cries grew hoarser, she stepped up the stairs, careful to mask the sound of her footfalls as the stairs softly creaked.

...

Bulma shut the door hard behind her and locked it, her chest heaving with her hard, rattling breaths as she sobbed out her pain in heart wrenching cries, fisting her hair at the roots and dragging her fingernails through her short cropped hair in agonized despair.

My son doesn't love me! He will never trust me! I've failed him, I've ruined everything! I wish I could just disappear!

She thought, and sobbed harder as she sunk down to her knees and hit the side of the dresser with her head in her careless fall, Bulma let her head rest there as she closed her eyes and squeezed the moisture out. There was a clatter as the things fell off the dresser as she hit her head on it in frustration, causing the pictures there and bottles of perfume to fall and settle on the carpet.

He's so determined to convince everyone that I'm still drinking, it's as if he WANTS me to be the image he's created in his mind!

Bulma hit her head again, not caring as pain shot through her skull and there was a crash of glass, then a loud thud. She wanted to feel the physical pain right now, anything was better than the pain she felt squeezing her heart. Bulma fell to the side, gasping as her forehead throbbed, and felt around with one hand as she pushed herself back up onto her knees.

Trunks! She gasped, as her eyes met the old photograph once again, of her and Trunks from so long ago, happy, smiling. Her tears fell onto the picture and she sobbed harder, crouching over and cradling the picture frame to her chest as her arms quivered. Bulma felt something cold hit her arm and looked up to see what it was, freezing in place as she recognized the cool glass of a clear vodka bottle rolling across the pink carpeting.

How!? I threw them all away!?

She gasped, in disbelief.

That's right, I hid that one under the dresser where nobody would find it... I must have forgot it was there.

Bulma picked up the bottle and blinked, her eyebrows furrowed with disgust. It was half full from where she had chugged it directly from the bottle in the past. She shook her head, grimacing. Bulma opened the bottle, laughing harshly to herself.

Maybe this is what Trunks wants, so that he can point to me and say, look! I told you so! See how much of a drunk piece of shit she is! That's Bulma, she used to be my mom but now she's just a useless alcoholic!

Bulma laughed harder, gritting her teeth as she brought the bottle to her nose and smelled it, gagging as she recognized the almost chemical smell of the 100 proof alcohol. Just one burning hot sip was enough to soothe the pain, a little pain for a lifetime of happiness.

"Fuck you, Trunks." She growled, tears running down her cheeks as she put it to her lips.

...

Son Residence:

The long talk was now over, as Trunks sat in peaceful silence, Goku had gotten up and went to help Chi-Chi in the kitchen not long ago, he could still hear their hushed voices as Chi-Chi's threatened to rise with anger over and over as Goku placated her.

She's right, I don't deserve their sympathy. I'm a horrible son. I should sleep out in the cold, hey maybe I'll go to the bar and see what's so goddamned great about it... Maybe then I could understand.

He thought, sadly, and stared at the curling flames as they licked at the orange glow of the blackened wood, and lowered his eyelids and relaxed. He pulled the soft blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes as the warmth of the fire lulled him to sleep.

Mom...I promise, I'll make it up to you...

Briefs Residence:

"Mom!" Bra cried, as she broke down the door and snatched the bottle from her hands, gasping as it came away empty and Bulma fell backwards, in shame. Her mother crawled backwards on the floor and sobbed, mortified that Bra had caught her.

"Bra! Its not what you think! I swear!" She cried out, shaking her head.

She had only just finished chugging it, the liquor hadn't had any effect yet on her body as her stomach lurched with the painful shock of being discovered. Bulma got to her feet and ran to the bathroom, nearly falling as she made it to the toilet and voided the entire contents out of her stomach and screamed as the burning acid assaulted her throat and burned her nostrils.

"Momma!" Bra dropped the bottle and ran to her mother, stroking her back comfortingly as Bulma hung her head and coughed, gasping for breath.

"Momma, it's ok! You're gonna be alright, just get it out!" She whispered urgently, rubbing her back and looking away as her mother vomited again, then whimpered pitifully as she spat and flushed the toilet. She helped her stand up and wash her face and mouth over the sink, holding her and soothing her cries as Bulma wiped her face with a towel.

"Bra." Vegeta said, and the younger version of his wife turned her head, gasping as she saw him; fearful that he would be angry with Bulma.

"I'll... take care of her. You should go to bed." He said, and Bra nodded, patting her mother on the back then walking over to her father and wrapping her arms around him. He smoothed one hand down her hair, then gently eased her away from himself, looking down and stepping on the bottle; pulverizing it into a white powder.

Bra pulled the broken door shut to give her parents some privacy, walking away, then concealing her own ki as she went to her own room and listened.

"Vegeta, I already know what you're going to say, I'm foolish, yes I know!" Bulma spat, tossing down the towel then looking at herself in the mirror, as he came up behind her and watched her through the mirror.

"No." He said, and shook his head slightly. Bulma turned and fell into his arms, as he pulled her closer and allowed her to cry.

"He's the one whose foolish. You've been doing your best all along, and now...he's gotten what he wants.." He growled, but Bulma lifted her head and shook it.

"I'm not drunk, Vegeta... I couldn't hold it down long enough for it to have any effect. But I promise, liquor will never touch my lips again. Not for as long as I live..." She said, as a tear fell down her cheek.

"I know." He simply said, and wiped it away with one finger.

She looked away, and took a deep breath.

"Remember what we talked about, before...?" She said, her azure eyes brimming with tears as she gazed at him.

He nodded, gulping down any show of pain that he had inside, for her sake.

"You do what you must. I'll be here, whenever you are ready to return."

"Thank you, Vegeta..." She whispered, and kissed him before he released her, having to walk away before his hard exterior threatened to shatter before her, and hurt her with his own pain. Vegeta knew that Bulma needed him to be strong for her, and so he left. Returning to the familiar comfort of the gravity chamber, closing the metal door with a hard clang, where the sound of anything was silenced to anyone on the outside.

...

Bra waited until she heard the low hum of the gravity chamber until coming out of her room; creeping quietly across the floor as jarring noises in the bedroom broke the silence.

Bra looked on nervously as a Bulma pulled a suitcase out the closet and began stuffing clothes into it frantically, haphazardly cramming them all in while sobbing.

"Mom...?" She asked carefully, walking over and pulling a shirt out of the suitcase. Bra looked at it sadly, as Bulma continued to pack. She set it down and walked over to her mother, kneeling beside her.

"What are you doing?"

Bulma zipped up the suitcase, and went to the closet to pull out another; this time filling it with toiletries, too flustered at this point to even think that long about what exactly she would need.

"I'm leaving, Bra. I'm going to go to America, and try to find myself. This is all just too much, I thought I was doing good, but not according to Trunks..." She choked out, zipping the suitcase up with a hard tug.

"Mom..."

"No! Nothing I do for him is any good anymore! I'm sick and tired of it! I give up on trying to get my son back. I hope you understand, I just can't keep doing this anymore!" Bulma sobbed, her red, puffy eyes squeezed shut as Bra came to her and embraced her mother.

"Don't worry... I wouldn't give up on you or your father. I love you, no matter what."

She hugged her back a moment longer, then returned to packing.

"Mom, don't do this! There has to be something we can do! You don't have to leave, please, stay here with us!" She begged, taking her arm and stopping her movements. Bulma patted her arm, and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, honey. But I can't do this, I don't feel welcome with him in the house. I will come back... Just not right now." She said softly, and pulled away.

Bra nodded, understanding; although she was hurt.

"Please promise me, mom... It wouldn't be the same without you!"

Bulma looked to her and gave her a small smile.

"Of course. I promise."