Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball/Z/GT.

A/N: This is for the prompt: love. However, you'll notice this is (pretty much) the only time I will not use the actual word in the drabble, simply because I agree with the usual consensus that Vegeta doesn't really understand/agree with the idea. So this is more of an expression of Vegeta's "love" for Bulma. Anyways, ENJOY!

Love

When Trunks found his father, Vegeta was sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. He was so still, Trunks began to wonder if his father hadn't fallen asleep in this position, and considered backing out of the room when the Saiyan's shoulders rose and fell in a deep breath. His hands fell away to reveal a haggard face.

"What is it?" he asked without opening his eyes, and Trunks blinked at him for a moment.

"I was just wondering if-"

"No, I haven't found her."

"Do you know what-"

"Somebody is holding her for ransom." When Vegeta opened his eyes, his son took an automatic step back. The stillness Trunks had mistaken for despair was a desperate attempt to rein in the wild and flaring emotions of a protective monster. "I still cannot find her. She is either heavily sedated or knocked unconscious or…"

He didn't say it. He didn't want to. He didn't have to.

Trunks bit his lip as his father sighed roughly, bringing a hand up to rub irritably at his face. He couldn't tell Goku or Gohan or Goten or Piccolo; his father had sworn him to silence, and his Saiyan pride held him to his word. It only heightened his anxiety; he would not be able to stop a rampaging Vegeta if worst-came-to-worst. The boy wondered if he could maybe get his father to promise not to destroy the planet if…if things didn't work out.

A sharp note rang in their senses, a shrill cry that they felt more than heard.

Vegeta was on his feet, eyes open and hands clenched into fists; both were glaring in the same direction, north of West City. Boy glanced at man and vice versa, and then Vegeta was almost running towards the balcony of the room. Trunks was following until his father turned abruptly and forced him back with his gaze.

"No," he said sternly. "Stay here."

"She's my mom!" the demi-Saiyan cried. "I want to get her back just as much as you!"

"Trunks," he replied. It was a warning.

"You can't stop me!"

The elder sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose; he didn't have time to argue with a twelve year old! But he decided that his son deserved a decent explanation, so he lowered his hand and stared directly into those blue eyes, so like his mother's.

"You know what I've done, yes?"

Trunks blinked; the subject change wasn't hard to follow, though it was confusing. He wondered if this was another warning. "Kind of. I don't know all the facts or details, but I know enough."

"Then you know I am not a good man, Trunks. I do not deny my past; I wear it like a second skin. It has molded me, created something most fear. I am a killer, boy, and somebody has had the audacity to lay their hands upon my wife."

He didn't need to hear the rest to understand.

I will slaughter anyone who has touched her.

Vegeta didn't want his only son to see that.

Trunks didn't want to, either.

Thus, the boy nodded and took a step back, relenting silently. Vegeta grunted and was gone in a second, leaving his son staring after him. Trunks found himself almost pitying the men that had taken his mother, because they had no idea the wrath they had just unleashed upon themselves.

A/N: Haha! Review to find Bulma!