Author's Note: I appreciate the support that I have gotten for this story. Many of you have been very solid, and very mindful reviewers, and I really and truly am grateful for that. As I know I have said before, I love hearing what you all think. It is extremely encouraging, particularly when I get a lot of them!

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Trunks picked at the food on his plate. His father had told him to wait two weeks, and for two weeks, had had been as patient as he could be. He had made a promise, to himself and to his father, that for two weeks, he would wait.

But it had been seventeen days since his father had come for him, and that was not what he had agreed to.

The young prince looked at his father and opened his mouth, seemingly ready to say something. But before any words could pass through his lips, he felt his will die out. He already knew that there was nothing more his father could do about the situation. Why bother bringing it up at all?

They had decided that the easiest way to lay low was to stay in the forest, Vegeta and Trunks had opened up the capsule house about ten miles south of where Goku lived. That way, Trunks would not have to face total isolation, but they were still out of shouting distance of 'the idiot'. Vegeta was not happy about being so near the other Saiyan, but for the sake of his son, he had not uttered a word.

In the past seventeen days, father and son had fallen into an extremely strict routine. Neither of them had ever mentioned forming one, it had just sort of…happened.

Vegeta would wake up every morning an hour before dawn, when he would uncapsulize the spare training room Dr. Briefs had given him and begin training. An hour after the sun rose, he would halt his training, close down the facility, and place the capsule inside the house. He would then hunt for breakfasts main course, making sure to bring back a large enough kill for both himself and his son. It never took him long, but by the time he returned, Trunks would be up and wandering into the kitchen. They would eat in silence, and would just as quietly clean up afterwards. Then came training together, then lunch, followed by time for Trunks to study.

Bulma had always made sure that Trunks would spend some time hitting the books…

They would train again in the afternoon, then have a rest before dinner. Each evening was spent in near total silence. Despite the fact that their location had been chosen strictly for the purpose of Trunks being near his best friend, the young prince had not once gone for a visit, nor had he invited his partner in crime over. For seventeen days, the two had lived in quiet solitude, both trying to keep patient as they waited for their lives to be put back together.

But by that seventeenth night, the stress and worry had finally gotten to Trunks. Steeling his resolve, he finally decided to talk.

"Dad?" he said, his voice unfortunately cracking as he spoke.

Vegeta looked up from his own hardly touched meal and raised an eyebrow at his son.

Trunks swallowed what little saliva was in his mouth. "Do you think…do you think we can go home soon?"

The elder prince had to fight to keep from biting his lip or showing some other physical sign of his concern. The last thing he wanted was to appear worried and weak in front of his son, but he had honestly been dreading that question since the day they had moved out. There was no definite answer he could give the boy, and he had never been one to skirt around the truth. But this was a special circumstance, and Vegeta knew that he had to handle it delicately.

"I am unfamiliar with the specific growing patterns of the senzu plant," he said with a level voice. This was the mode he went in to every time he had to have a heart to heart with his son: no facial emotion, straight facts, limited questions allowed. "I was informed, as you were, that the plant would have sufficiently bloomed by now to produce the bean. Clearly, it has not. I cannot give you an accurate estimation of when we shall be returning to Capsule Corp."

Upon seeing his son's near devastated features, the uncomfortable Vegeta cleared his throat. "If you would like, I will speak to the Namek and see if he can give us an accurate time."

Trunks' eyes lit up. "That would be great, Dad! Thanks!" With renewed hope, the boy dug in to his food, a smile on his face with each bite.

Vegeta, however, did not share his son's enthusiasm. What he had failed to mention to Trunks was that every morning, before he started his training, he had gone to Piccolo in hope that the plant had finally bloomed. And every morning, he had returned despondent, having simply been told, "We just need to wait longer." No new time estimate had been given, and what little information the Saiyan could get seemed to come reluctantly.

Just as Trunks was gaining new hope, Vegeta was beginning to lose his.

…

"You're worse than Vegeta is," Piccolo growled as his latest visitor appeared before him.

Goku just blinked in surprise. "Gee, Piccolo, all I wanted to do was see if the senzu beans were ready yet. Are they?"

"No!" the green alien shouted. "They are not ready yet!"

"Well, you don't need to be so mean about it," Goku pouted. "All I did was ask a question."

Piccolo growled again at the Saiyan. "Yes, the same question you have been asking me over and over and over again."

"Hey!" Goku protested. "I'm not up here asking you that often"

"IT'S BEEN TEN MINUTES SINCE THE LAST TIME YOU ASKED ME!" Piccolo shouted back.

The Saiyan once again blinked in surprise. "Really?" he asked, scratching the back of his head. "Wow, maybe Chi-Chi was right. I do need a watch!"

Piccolo pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm his extremely stressed nerves. "Why are you even coming to me about this?" he asked in the calmest manner he could. "You know that it is not I who am the grower of the senzu beans."

Again, Goku scratched the back of his head, this time with a laugh. "Korin doesn't let me teleport to him anymore," he chuckled. "He said that if I had any questions, I should direct them to you."

"I'm going to kill that cat," the former guardian growled. He directed his attention back to his former foe. "Have I not already told you that I would inform you as soon as the plants were ready?"

"Well, yeah, but you never know" Goku insisted. "You could have forgotten to check this morning, or maybe you decided to tell Vegeta first, which is probably what I would do if I was in your position, or they were ready and you just forgot to tell us, or the plant died and you didn't want to tell us, or…"

That was as far as the Saiyan got before a firm hand clamped down on his mouth. "You will stop talking, and you will stop talking now," Piccolo growled. When Goku tried to say, "Okay" with a hand still over his mouth, the Namek decided that it was better to just retain his grip.

"According to Korin, the plant should be blooming any day now," he coolly answered. "I have not told Vegeta that yet because I don't want to incur the wrath of that man if he is once again given a deadline for this and it is not met. He almost had a stroke three days ago when I told him they weren't ready yet, and I'm just not in the mood to orphan Trunks right now. When the plants are ready, I will let Gohan know first."

When Goku's eyes bugged out, Piccolo just held on to his mouth harder. "I am not going to tell you because you are annoying when you celebrate," he calmly said. "Particularly when you start dancing. I choose to make your son deal with that."

A muffled, "Hey!" could be heard through the green hand before Piccolo continued.

"Then you can tell Vegeta, because I fear his good mood more than I fear yours. As you are doing that, Gohan will be delivering the bean to Bulma." He let go of his former rival finally and wiped his hand off on his cape. "I think it would be in everyone's best interest if Vegeta were not in the room when Bulma is healed."

"What?!?" Goku cried. "How can you say that?"

"Because," the Namek firmly went on, "we do not know if the beans will heal her mind. Assuming that she is completely healed physically, but her mind is not restored, then she will not take Vegeta's presence any better than she would now. Which brings up the other issue of getting her to calmly accept his presence in the room in the first place. She does not know that he is living on this planet, let alone that he is no longer evil. Her panic in those last few moments before healing could still be enough to kill her."

The Saiyan's shoulders slumped. "I guess you're right," he mumbled, looking at his boots. "That's so unfair, though. If Chi-Chi were about to be healed, I don't think anything could stop me from being there."

"And that is why Gohan will be administering the bean as Vegeta is told that they are ready." Piccolo glanced over his shoulder and saw Dende standing in the entry way.

The poor young guardian was keeping himself scarce these days. More than one of Bulma's companions had implored him to heal their friend, but he could not leave his post at the Lookout for such a universally trivial thing. As Guardian of Earth, he was bound to his post. He could not leave unless he was direly needed to prevent an epic catastrophe on his adopted world, and in the grand plan of the universe, one woman in a car accident did not warrant Armageddon level efforts.

The young Namek had almost classified Bulma's injuries as a large enough threat to the safety of the Earth. He had seen the destruction Vegeta was capable of first hand, and the risk of. The Saiyan he had first met was wild, vengeful, and erratically violent. The mere thought of him being driven to his old ways had almost sent Dende flying to the scene of the accident when it happened.

But Piccolo had stopped him, saying that it was not his place to intervene. He had insisted that if things were truly that bad, Bulma would be brought to the Lookout, and that the boy would not need to leave his post.

Neither of them had expected the events to unfold as they had. Gohan had taken control of the situation, and had done an admirable job keeping the poor woman alive long enough to move her, but had one critical mistake: he had let his human training take over, and had taken her to a hospital. In that moment of crisis, he had forgotten about Dende's ability to heal the wounded. And because of that momentary lapse of judgment, everything had gone so wrong.

Bulma was now too injured to be teleported, and they had only risked relocating her to Capsule Corp with a well trained team monitoring her every breath and getting her set up in the sick bay that the facility housed. Dende could not go to her, and she could no longer be brought to him. Now all they could do was wait for the senzu beans and pray that they would work.

It was not, to say the least, something that Bulma's friends agreed on as the best course of action. And so, the poor boy found himself on the raw end of resentment.

Piccolo turned back to the Saiyan by his side. "There is nothing you can accomplish here, Goku," he sternly said. "Go back to your home. You will be informed when it is time."

Goku gave a half smile, but instead of leaving, he just stood there and continued to stare at his boots. "Actually, there is one thing that you could do for me," he hesitantly said. "Could you spar with me? Gohan's buried himself in his studying. He's always saying that he has to go to the library. I get the feeling that asking Vegeta right now would just be suicidal, and I just really need to get some of this out of my system."

A smirk crossed the taller warrior's features as he lowered himself into a fighting stance. "That," he said, "I can do."

…

The plan that Piccolo had told Goku was not entirely accurate. In fact, as the two were sparring far above the Earth, Gohan sat on the edge of Bulma's bed, playing with the bean in his fingers. It had ripened that afternoon, and he had picked it up as soon as he could. All he had to do was wait for Bulma to wake up, give it to her, and hope for the best.

He hated having to sneak around just to heal a friend, but it was a necessity. If anyone else knew that the beans were ready, they would be clambering in to see the 'miracle', and that would only make things more stressful than they already were. Particularly his father, Trunks, and Vegeta.

"Wake up," he whispered to the heiress. "Please, just wake up, let me give this to you, be fine, and let this whole nightmare end."

In the past seventeen days, Gohan had come to the same conclusion Dende had: taking Bulma to the hospital had been the biggest mistake they could have made. Not only did it further endanger her health, but it made her situation global news. When the richest woman in the world is barely clinging to life, every gossip monger in the world is on high alert.

Newspapers, magazines, even internet pop ups had Bulma's face plastered all over them. Questions were constantly being asked. Some were addressed to the hospital, some to the family, some even to advice columnists. What happened to cause the accident? What had she been doing when the crash occurred? How serious were her injuries? Would she live? What would happen to Capsule Corp if she died? And more importantly, what would happen to her fortune?

Even questions that had been long forgotten by the media had begun to resurface, and there was one that everyone wanted to know: Was that purple haired boy really her son, and if so, who was the father? And where, exactly, were they during all of this?

Gohan let out an exhausted sigh as he turned his gaze to the ceiling. Even if Bulma lived, the media was once again obsessing over her family, and Gohan felt like it was entirely his fault. Everywhere the teenager turned was a reminder of his mistake, and the stress had been killing him.

So he had been sitting there, on the edge of Bulma's bed, for hours. The only thing he had done was dwell on his problems and play with what he hoped to be his salvation. If everything went as he hoped, then Bulma would be good as new in a matter of hours. She could just lay low for a few months, claim fantastic care and remarkable surgery, and the media would forget all about her.

Gohan nearly jumped when he noticed her eyelids trying to open. In the last few weeks they had become far less swollen, but it still was not easy for her to answer her eyes. "Oh, please be waking up," the teenager begged. "Please, please, please be waking up…"

Bulma groaned as she left the land of slumber, and offered the boy a genuine smile when she saw him. She had grown accustomed to this adult version of Gohan almost surprisingly quickly. But, as she reasoned, Gohan had been more of an adult in his childhood than most of the adults either of them knew, so it wasn't exactly a hard concept to adapt to. At least, not after the initial shock.

"Hey," she rasped out. Her breathing tube had been out for a while, but it was still hard for her to talk.

"Hey," Gohan replied. "I got a present for you."

Bulma's eyes widened as she saw the senzu bean, and her smile broadened as far as it could in her state. She didn't utter a word, just opened her mouth and awaited delivery.

Gohan was only too happy to comply. He gently slid the bean into her waiting mouth, and had to keep his hands clasped together to keep them from shaking. His entire body trembled with anticipation as he waited for the bean to take affect.

He forced himself to sit still as he watched her wounds close up. He clenched every muscle in his body in an attempt to still himself as her battered skin returned to its porcelain nature. He bit down on his lip as he watched her stretch out and move her limbs for the first time in over two weeks. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep himself from asking the question that was begging to be screamed from his lips.

Bulma's brilliant blue eyes fluttered opened, and she burst out laughing when she saw the teenager's antsy nature. "Relax, Gohan!" she laughed, giving him a slap on the back. "See? I'm okay!"

Gohan let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "So, you're okay? As in…everything's okay?"

She ran a hand over the top of her head. "Well, I'm still bald, and may I just say that I am more than upset at the fact that senzu beans do not heal hair. I swear, I should write a letter of complaint to the manufacturer…"

"Bulma," Gohan interrupted, a serious look on his face. "Please…"

The heiress blinked her beautiful eyes at him, and her eyebrows furrowed as she thought back. Hesitantly, she shook her head. "I can't remember everything, if that's what you're asking," she softly said. "But after spending all that time trapped in this bed, I actually don't care right now."

The hybrid tried to hide just how devastated he was by that news. "Well, that's okay Bulma," he said, trying to be optimistic. "Now that you're not hurt anymore, we can teach you everything that happened. Don't worry, we won't leave a single thing out!"

"I'm sure you won't," the heiress laughed. "Hey, Gohan?"

"Yes?"

Bulma shifted uncomfortably in her bed, tucking her still stiff legs underneath her freshly healed body. "Look, I don't have anything against you being here, but there is someone…else…that I was kind of hoping would be here to…to be with me when I woke up."

Gohan held his breath, a glimmer of hope in his soul. Could she remember Vegeta? Maybe not their relationship, but at least that she likes it when he's near?

"Can you go get Yamcha for me?" she quietly asked. "I mean, I know that he and I broke up a long time ago, and that we haven't dated each other for years, but out of everyone in the world…that's who I want to be with."

And Gohan felt his heart drop into his stomach.

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Author's Notes: Well, I couldn't exactly make it easy for them, now could I? The story still has a way left to it!

If you could be so kind as to review, I would really appreciate it.

Thank you!