Author's Note: I have had the next three chapters of this story in the "Almost Finished" list for so long, I actually had forgotten that I started them. Plus, actually going to my computer for the purpose of updating has been number two on my "To Do" list for a week, but stuff kept coming up to take the number one slot. It's been a crazy week…

Anyway, a thousand thank you's to all of you who have taken the time to review. I thank you for your praise, your critiques, and, most of all, for understanding that as this is a work of fanfiction, there are going to be a few creative liberties taken. All who have made commentary on the plot have done so with an open mind, and I truly thank you for that.

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Trunks felt his blood run cold as he looked down at his father. His dad was supposed to be at the hospital, keeping his mom safe. If he wasn't at the hospital, then his mom must have…

Panic filled the nine year old, and his eyes darted back and forth wildly as he tried to sense his mother. In his panicked state, he struggled to hone in his senses well enough to track a human. Several seconds passed before he caught a glimmer of her energy, and he locked on to it for dear life. A sigh of relief escaped him when he realized that she was still alive. In fact, if anything, her energy was even higher than it had been the previous day.

"She's alive," he whispered, smiling to himself. "She's doing better!"

"Trunks…"

The young prince snapped out of his small trance to look back down to his father. "Oh, right," he quietly responded, bounding down the stairs. "Mom woke up, didn't she?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear. "I know she did! I can sense her from here, and she's stronger than she was yesterday, which means she's getting better. And if you're here, and not in the hospital with Mom, then that means that she woke up, and she's okay, and I can go give her a hug, and then we can all go back home!" The boy was so excited that he actually began to bounce up and down at the base of the stairs. "She's okay!" he cheered. "She's okay! She's okay! She's okay!"

All five adults in the room grimaced slightly. Things were not okay. Not by a long shot. And there was no way a nine year old would take this news well.

"Trunks," Vegeta said again, putting a hand on his son's shoulder and forcing him to stay on the ground, "come with me."

In that one instant, Trunks' heart dropped to his stomach and his smile disappeared completely. "She's not okay," he whispered with a crack in his voice and tears in his eyes. "She's not okay, is she, Dad?"

Vegeta gently pushed his son's shoulder, guiding him to the front door. "Come outside with me," he calmly said, "and I will tell you what you need to know."

Numbly, Trunks nodded and followed his father's lead.

As the door closed behind them, Goku cringed. "How bad do you think this is going to be?" he softly asked the others.

"On a scale from one to ten," Krillen answered, "with one being nonchalance and ten being Armageddon, I think we're looking at something in the high sevens. Low sixes if he got a good night's sleep."

Eighteen slapped her husband's shoulder. "How can you make a joke at a time like this?" she hissed. "He's a kid who's about to find out that his mother has no idea who he is! How dare you joke around about this?"

With glum eyes, Krillen looked up at his wife. "Honey, it's how I respond to these situations and you know it. I'm not trying to take away from the significance or the difficulty of the situation. I'm just getting through it in a way that has been very good for me in the past." He sighed before sincerely adding, "I'm sorry."

"Hey, ease up," Gohan said. "It's been a long few days for all of us. We've all cracked under the pressure a little at one point or another."

Goku suddenly found his shoes to be very interesting. He really did not want to think about how he had reacted in the hospital while Bulma had still been unconscious. He still could not believe that he had done what he had done.

"Besides," the teenaged hybrid went on, "we need to get some of the stress out of our systems so that we can be there for Trunks and Vegeta right now. We're not going to be doing them any favors by keeping our emotions bottled up to the point of eruption. If we do, we're only going to end up hurting them."

The other three in the room silently nodded. They had all been fairly caught up in their own emotions. It was time to set their own feelings aside for a moment to help those who were in need.

Slowly, all four of them turned their gaze to the door, wondering how it was going out there.

…

The sun had barely risen over the small island. The sky was a grayish blue and partially covered by a thin fog that seemed to be everywhere. A delicate breeze swept over the island, gently brushing up against the fronds of the palm tree and the leaves on the bushes. Nearby, the sounds of the waves gently lapping up against the soft, sandy beach could be heard.

But Trunks could not see or hear any of it. In the last few minutes, his heart had gone from slow and relaxed to jumping up in his throat, to excited where it belonged, to sinking in the pit of his stomach in despair, and was, at the moment, hovering once more near his throat in nervous anticipation.

Father and son sat at the edge of the shore, staring off toward the sunrise. For a brief moment, the serenity of the environment seemed to have a calming effect. But that moment was fleeting, and was soon replaced by an unnerving quiet.

After several minutes of silence, the nine year old couldn't take the pressure of the quiet any longer. "How bad is it, Dad?" he asked, his voice wavering. "How bad is Mom?"

The elder prince remained silent for a moment longer. He had not actually prepared himself for this conversation. His time in isolation from the others had been spent in a necessary state of total numbness, void of any and all emotions. It was a comfortable state for him, one that he had come to rely on heavily throughout his life.

At that moment, though, he found himself wishing that he had not gone into that state, that he had instead thought of what to tell his only child.

"She is awake," Vegeta slowly began. When Trunks looked at him eagerly, Vegeta tried to find the right words to go on. "She woke up a few hours ago," he continued, his hesitation more evident than he cared for. "She is in stable condition, and should have no problem lasting long enough for a senzu bean to sprout and take care of her wounds."

Trunks bit down on his lip. It was good news he was hearing, to be sure, but he knew his father. He knew that his dad wasn't telling him something, and that disturbed him. His dad did not pull punches, especially on emotional topics. The man would just bluntly state facts and be done with it, the hell with what other people thought. But he wasn't doing that, and that disturbed Trunks.

"What's wrong, Dad?" he asked, leaning closer to his father.

Vegeta sighed softly before going on. "Trunks…do you remember the severity of your mother's injuries?"

With his lower lip trembling, the boy nodded.

"The worst ones that she sustained were to her head," Vegeta stated, his voice neutral. "Those were the ones that caused the most damage and those were the ones that are the cause of her current state."

Trunks couldn't take the tension any more. "She's paralyzed, isn't she?" he blurt out. "Oh, Dad, I promise that I'll help take care of her. I'll do all of my chores, I'll help Grandma with the cooking, I'll even learn how to fix the robots. Don't worry, Dad, I'll take care of Mom, just like I promised I would."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at his son. "She's not paralyzed, boy."

The nine year old blinked in surprise. He was sure that had to be it. What else happened because of being hit in the head? "She's blind?" he guessed.

His father shook his head.

"Deaf?"

Again, Vegeta simply shook his head.

Trunks was running out of senses. "She can't smell?" he randomly guessed.

"Stop it," Vegeta firmly commanded. "Do not do this, Trunks. You will let me tell you what the situation is, and you are not to interrupt me until I am done. Understood?"

Trunks gulped slightly but nodded. It was actually somewhat comforting to hear that threatening tone in his father's voice again. "I understand, Papa. Please, tell me."

The elder prince drew a deep breath in through his nose before he spoke. "Do you remember the stories of why Kakarot acts like such a fool all the time?"

"Of course I do," Trunks responded, making sure that it was okay to do so. "You and Mom tell me all the time that he acts like a clown because he fell off a cliff and got hit in the…" As he began to piece the information together, Trunks shot a confused look toward his father. "Mom's going to start acting stupid?"

A harsh glare from his father got Trunks to snap his mouth shut. "I'll shut up now," he whispered, his cheeks turning bright red from embarrassment. He could not believe that those words had actually left his mouth.

Given the situation, though, Vegeta did not feel like giving his son grief over his statement. "Why did the head injury make Kakarot act like a dolt?" he pushed on.

Trunks glanced up at his father, again making sure that it was alright for him to say something again. "Um, because he forgot his Saiyan side," the boy mumbled. Suddenly, Trunks sat up perfectly straight. "He forgot…"

"Severe head trauma can lead to memory loss," Vegeta interrupted. "Your mother's was no exception. There is a substantial chunk of time that she cannot remember at all, and because of her current state, we cannot tell her too much of it."

The boy swallowed hard, knowing he was going to regret his question. "How much did she forget?" he whispered.

"Twelve years," Vegeta bluntly said. "Her last memories are from twelve years ago."

"But I'm only nine!" Trunks cried, not caring how childish he sounded at the moment. "That would mean that she doesn't remember me, and she would never forget me! You're wrong, Dad! You're wrong!"

"I am not wrong," his father firmly went on. "Her memory of the last twelve years is gone, Trunks. She does not remember you…nor does she remember being in a relationship with me."

The boy glared at his father as he processed all of what he was being told. His mother had a head injury. She couldn't remember anything that had happened in the last twelve years. They weren't supposed to tell her anything. His mother didn't remember who he was. His mother didn't even remember his father.

Trunks suddenly felt all of the color drain from his face.

"We can't go home, can we?" he whispered. Tears slowly began to fall from his eyes, and before he knew it, Trunks was sobbing, clutching on to his father for dear life.

Though he would never admit it out loud, Vegeta was extremely thankful that the boy had figured that part out on his own. He had no idea how to tell his son that, literally, there was no place like home.

"For the time being," the father stated, "we will be residing in a house that your grandfather has given to us. In two weeks time, the senzu plant will have sprouted, your mother will be healed, and then we can go back home."

Sniffling, Trunks looked up. "Two weeks?" he choked out between sobs. "She'll be okay in two weeks?"

Vegeta stiffened at the question. Gohan had told him that there was a chance that, even with the senzu beans, Bulma's memory might not be restored. She might still be completely unaware of the family that she had formed. She might still be unable to recognize her son.

Hesitantly, Vegeta wrapped an arm around his only child and pulled him into a sideways hug. "Just wait two weeks, son," he softly said. "She'll be okay."

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Author's Note: Just a reminder that this is the second half of what was originally one long chapter, which is why it is a wee bit shorter than the usual ones.

Again, questions and commentaries are more than welcome.

Oh, and for those of you who are curious: There is a major plot twist in the next chapter.