Gohan cradled Trunks in his arms, flying as quickly as he could toward Kame Island. He had barely made it off the staircase and into the bedroom before Bulma and Vegeta tried to 'recreate the magic'. The moment he figured out what the two of them were starting to do, he had grabbed the boy and jumped from the window. If Trunks woke up soon, and there was a chance that he might, he did not want to have to explain what the noises coming from the kitchen were.

"Geez," he muttered with a smirk on his face, "when your parents reconcile, they really reconcile…"

The eighteen year old tilted his head to the side, clearly sensing it when his father took off for the Lookout. Gohan shook his head and rolled his eyes. Through their telepathic link, Piccolo had been griping to the teenager about the annoyances of being asked, every few minutes, if anything had radically changed. As such, Gohan was already well aware of the fact that in order to get his father to get out of the way, Piccolo and Dende had conspired to slip a potent sedative into Goku's food and had him dropped off back at his house.

Heads up, Piccolo, he signaled his mentor. You've got incoming…

The Namekien groaned and dropped out of his meditative position in the Lookout's garden. It seemed like only a few minutes earlier he had gotten rid of the Saiyan, and he was not looking forward to whatever round of intervention they were on.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, the large warrior made a beeline for the palace. Even after his few hours of meditation, he was definitely in a sour mood. He shoved the palace doors open, not at all surprised to see that Dende was already standing there.

"I know," the little guardian mumbled, leaning on his staff, "I know, he's on his way back." He let out a tired sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "How bad do you think this is going to be?"

Piccolo was already walking for the edge of the heavenly location, staring over the edge. "It depends. Vegeta is conscious, and it appears that things are finally moving forward with him and Bulma, which should help shut him up for a while. However, it would appear that the two of them are…engaging in activities that should not be interrupted. If we wish for this ordeal to end sooner, we need to keep him from interrupting them."

Dende tried to massage some of the tension out of his neck. When he had taken the oath of guardianship, he had not anticipated playing babysitter to one of the universe's greatest warriors. "Then I suggest that we bluntly tell him what is going on, let him know that the best thing he can do for anyone is to go back home, and then we make a 'Closed' sign for my front door."

The senior Namekien let out a low chuckle of approval. This entire experience had been taxing on all of them, and it was not at all unreasonable for his smaller counterpart to want a vacation.

But the vacation was going to have to start later, because Goku chose that moment to touch down on the immaculate surface. "How is he?" the Saiyan immediately asked.

"Awake, with Bulma, and not to be disturbed," Dende quickly answered. "Well, this has been lovely, Goku, but I'm sure you have things to attend to down on the ground, and I would hate to keep you from them, so…"

"But is he okay?" Goku interrupted.

A vein popped out on the little guardian's forehead, and Piccolo decided it was time to intervene. "Goku, Dende has several things to do today. Leave him be."

The Saiyan opened his mouth to protest, but even he could take the hint. "Oh, sure," he quietly said. "Good luck with whatever you need to do…" Without a moment of hesitation, he whipped around to face Piccolo. "So, how is he?"

Piccolo clenched his teeth and let out a slow breath, reminding himself that Gohan would be upset if he tried to kill Goku again. "He's fine, Goku."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Goku," the Namekien firmly repeated. "He's fine. They are fine. They are together at the moment, and are not to be disturbed. This madness seems to be coming to an end. There's nothing more you need to do."

The shorter warrior seemed to squirm for a moment, staring at his boots for a moment. "Hey," he softly spoke, "can we talk for a minute? I mean, I know I've been here a lot lately, and I know I haven't been easy to get along with recently, but I need someone to talk to right now."

While he wanted to point out that Goku had a wife waiting to listen to him, he knew that it would just be easier to deal with the other warrior and send him on his way. "Very well," he relented. "What do you wish to speak about?"

Goku took a seat on the edge of the Lookout and stuck his feet off the edge. "Everything fell apart when Bulma got in that car accident," he finally said.

Piccolo rolled his eyes as he resisted the urge to mention that yes, in fact, that was the beginning of everything, and that he was quite good at stating the obvious. But, out of a desire to finally have everything resolved, he would keep his mouth shut.

"I don't know what happened," the Saiyan went on. "It's like…it's like my brain just shut off completely, and I haven't been able to do a damn thing right since then. I didn't know how to help her when she was hurt, I didn't do anything to help her when she was in the hospital, I yelled at her when she was in a coma, I've panicked and overreacted every time someone asked me for help so I haven't been helping at all…I haven't been any good during any of this."

"True."

Goku's head snapped up, and he stared at his former rival with a look of shock and hurt on his face. Sure, he had already admitted that he had been making mistakes, but he never thought that one of his friends would agree with him so readily. "Have I really been that bad?"

Without having anything pressing to deal with at the moment, and with things finally seemingly coming to an end, Piccolo decided that it was finally time to speak his mind. "With few exceptions, Goku, yes, you have been."

The other man felt like he had been slapped in the face. With a forlorn look, he turned his gaze off the edge of the Lookout. They were so high up that even he could barely make out the ground below. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Piccolo took a few steps forward, standing directly behind the shorter man. "There is little to apologize for," he calmly stated. "Everything that has happened since this chaos began has not been in your area of expertise, and not your responsibility."

But Goku shook his head, still despondent. "I can save the world from a thousand powerful enemies, but when my friends really needed help, I wasn't there for them."

Piccolo had to take a moment to keep his nerves in tact. As tempting as it was to just kick the man in the back of the head and tell him to suck it up and get over it, that action would not have accomplished anything other than offering the enormous warrior a brief moment of joy. "Goku, you are a warrior. Your job is to save people in a time of war and battle, and you have done that so many times that I'm sure we've all stopped counting. But this did not require a physical fight, and that meant that for once in your life, you weren't the hero."

"I don't always have to be the hero!" Goku immediately defended himself.

"You say that, Goku, because you've always been the hero. Every battle you have fought in your life could be done with your fists, and you grew comfortable being the savior," Piccolo went on. "This battle did not require your skills. It was not your fight. And you've never really dealt with that before, have you?"

Goku thought for a moment. "Well, I…how about when…" And as his mind came up blank, he almost felt himself panicking.

"Admit it," Piccolo pushed on. "You were not the one that everyone turned to and, at least subconsciously, that has been killing you."

The Saiyan wanted to deny it. He wanted to shout that the very idea was absurd, that it was completely untrue. But as he let the words began to sink in, Goku began to realize that the Namekien was right. He wasn't the hero. And that hurt. A lot.

"I don't get it," the father of two said. "It's not like I demand attention or anything. I mean, I'm not Vegeta. How come this is bothering me so much?"

"Because, just as I have told you, you were comfortable in the position of being the savior," Piccolo repeated. "You did not demand our attentions because you got them without demanding. You, like all other mortals, struggle to function when you are not in the role you have grown accustomed to."

The green man took a seat next to his counterpart. "Your human friends, and your son especially, were much better equipped to aid in this chaos. And that's what they did, Goku. They helped. They did whatever they could, and they kept the group together." He paused and looked intently at Goku. "It was their turns to be the heroes."

A soft smile lit up on Goku's face. "It wasn't just the humans," he pointed out. "You, Korin, and Dende have done a lot for us all."

Piccolo snorted. "Dende may have used his talents as a healer, and that obnoxious cat may have grown you some senzu, but the only thing I did for you was not punch you in the head."

"Not true," the Saiyan countered. "If you hadn't been available, I think Gohan might have had a nervous breakdown."

"The point," the green man pushed on, "is that others did the work, and others won the victory. You were not the hero of this story. Take comfort in the fact that the battle is won." He got to his feet and began to turn toward the palace. "And learn from this experience. You are not flawless, and that is okay. Let the others take their glory, and spend some time with your family."

Goku raised an eyebrow. "What does spending time with my family have to do with any of this?"

The tall man said nothing, only nodding toward the closing palace door. There, in the middle of the grand doors, was an obviously quickly made "Closed for Business" sign.

"Oh!" Goku responded, jumping to his feet. "Right! Time for me to go home!"

"Good-bye, Goku."

Feeling oddly calmer, Goku waved to his Namekien friend and jumped off the edge of the Lookout. It was time to go home, rejoice that all was turning out well, and applaud his friends and family for all of their efforts.

/////

Bulma lay on the kitchen table, gasping for air. "Oh, man, if I had any memory at all of how good sex with you was, I would have screwed you so much sooner…"

Vegeta, sitting on a kitchen chair, had a confident smirk on his face as he looked up at the kitchen ceiling. "It's a damn good thing Gohan got the boy out of here when he did," he mused. "That's a much deeper crack than our other ones, and if I am not mistaken, Trunks' bedroom is actually right above that."

The heiress laughed, still dizzy from the endorphin high she was riding. "That was…amazing…"

"It always is," her husband replied with a chuckle. He leaned over and kissed her on the neck. "Can you see straight yet?"

"Dunno," Bulma gasped. She held up a hand and asked, "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Again, Vegeta chuckled, shifting his weight so he could get to her collar bone. "Enough."

Once again, the woman laughed. She rolled over, looking her Saiyan in the eyes. "I remember," she giggled, "that time you and I were fighting in the stairwell of the labs, and then we just started to go at it, right there on the stairs…" She paused, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. "…and we were half naked…" she kissed the other cheek, "…and then, out of nowhere," she giggled and brought her hand to her mouth, trying to keep from outright laughing. "Oh, Kami, remember how much my assistant screamed when she found us?"

"Her letter of resignation was on your desk an hour later," Vegeta finished. "You lost, what, seven like that?"

Bulma hummed as she kissed him on the lips. "Yep, that's what I remember."

For only the fifth time since he had arrived on the planet, Vegeta genuinely smiled. "Those might be the best words I have ever heard." He kissed her, but quickly pulled back. "You do remember that I don't…"

"…normally do this kissy-cuddly crap," Bulma finished his sentence. "Yeah, honey, I remember." She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer to her. "That's why I'm probably going to hold you hostage here for a while. I may never get another moment like this again."

The smile disappeared completely from the prince's face. "Bulma, I'm…"

"Don't," she interrupted. "Don't you dare apologize to me, Vegeta. That's not who you are, and I don't want you to completely change because of this." She ran her fingers through his hair, taking in every inch of him.

After a moment spent quietly just looking at each other, Vegeta finally broke the silence. "So, exactly how much do you remember?" he finally asked. "I never got true clarification on that between rounds four and five."

Bulma giggled and rubbed her nose against his. "There are a few spots that are still a little hazy," she admitted, "but I remember the important things. I remember the first time I saw you. I remember asking you to move in with us. I remember that rocky, painful beginning we had with our relationship. I remember the birth of our son. I remember what we went through after Cell. I remember how determined both of us were to not let our relationship dissolve. I remember Majin Buu. But most of all, I remember how much happier, how much greater, and how much better my life has been because of you."

She sat up on the table before sliding off of it and on to her husband's lap. "I remember, Prince Vegeta of the Saiyans, how much I love you. And I will never, ever let you go."

Vegeta nuzzled against his wife's neck, having missed her scent desperately. "I am grateful that you are in my life," he confessed.

"I know," the temporarily bald heiress affirmed. She pulled back for a moment and studied him carefully. "You know what else I remember?"

"Hn?"

She squeezed his shoulders and frowned slightly. "I remember you having more muscle than this. You're borderline skinny right now! What the hell happened to you?"

A slight blush crossed the prince's features. "I suppose that I may have been a tad negligent of myself as of late…"

"No shit!" Bulma exclaimed. "When we get home, as soon as you get our bedroom looking like our bedroom again, you're getting in that gravity room and working out. This is not healthy for you!"

"You're actually telling me to spend more time training?" he responded, smirking at his woman. "Are you sure that you're okay?"

Bulma slapped him on the shoulder, a move that had come to be a sign of playful affection between the two. "Seriously, though," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his lips again, "we need to get you really training again. That, after all, is the obsessive, driven, passionate man I fell for in the first place."

"What, this wasn't passionate enough for you?" he teased her.

"Well, we've only made it through round five," she teased back. "If I recall correctly, our record is seventeen in one day."

Vegeta offered a snort as he began kissing her neck again. "Yes, but the boy was with his twin terror for a weekend. We did not have to even think about him that day." He slowly slid his hand up her back and shook his head. "As much fun as we are having right now…"

"We really should see Trunks at some point," Bulma agreed. "However, if I'm not mistaken, our son, who I owe an enormous apology and massive raise in allowance to, is still out like a light. Can't we keep doing this until he's awake? We have a lot to make up for, after all."

"Yes," the prince agreed, "and I can't believe I'm the one saying this, but if your idiot friends don't know to tell us when he wakes up, they're probably assuming that this entire area is one big 'Do Not Disturb' sign."

Bulma let out an overly dramatic sigh and reached for her back on the floor. "Tell you what," she offered, flipping open her cell phone, "I will send a message to one of my 'idiot friends', letting them know to send one back the minute our kid wakes up." She furrowed what little eyebrow she had as she stared at the screen. Flipping it around, she asked, "That's Gohan's number, right?"

"How the hell should I know?" he lightly growled back. "I don't use that damned device. When I need to know where someone is, I just sense where they are."

"Jackass," she laughed, sending the message out. "There," she said, flipping the phone closed. "Now it's up to them to let us know."

Vegeta rubbed her shoulders, smirking wickedly at the woman in his lap. "Now that we have that taken care of, can we get back on track?"

Bulma smiled suggestively at her prince and tossed the phone aside. "Absolutely," she responded, licking his neck and nibbling on his ear. "So, where were we?"

/////

Note: For those of you who are dissapointed with this as an ending, relax. This isn't the ending. I opted to break my one, epic length chapter down. Peace Out!