A/N: I'm back! Honestly, I reworked this chapter a number of times, which is why it took so long. I've decided on an approach now that I had been waffling on...but I think this is going to be a pretty surprising move, but know that I had always intended to do this pretty soon and I found this was the most comfortable transition for me. We will be playing a LOT of fill-in-the-blanks, but it will be WORTH the ride! Thank you to 123sc (Mommy Bulma doesn't play!), lmamc (haha, I bet you aren't expecting this move…but I hope you enjoy this all the same!), sora 79 (I'm crafting Nappa to be a little more complex in his feelings, and over time you will see him develop! Geta and Trunks is a very important thread in this story!), maxridelover (my goal is as many fireworks as possible in surprising places, we'll see how that goes ;) ), hisuichanxx (thank you so much! I'll throw in a descriptor in this chapter, just for you so you can know what color his tail is lol!), and RedSmileyFace (ohhhh, you know whenever Bulma does anything, she doesn't do it halfway! There's going to be a lot to digest in this chapter…and a lot of mystery that will be unearthed as we go!) Enjoy!

When the door behind her didn't close, she was momentarily surprised that Vegeta had followed her here. She had just wrapped Trunks' arm as he sheepishly bowed to her ministrations, knowing that she wasn't in the mood. And the other boy…

Well, that had been startling. In fact, it took her about four seconds before she remembered how pissed off she was over the state of Trunks after a morning unsupervised with his father. This boy, Geta, had looked at her as if he had already made an unshakeable decision about how he felt about her…a feeling which she tried hard to swallow down... But Vegeta. How did he feel about it?

"You have…another son," Bulma rolled the words around slowly in her mouth, unused to them. Though, by getting a good look at Vegeta now, he didn't seem any more acquainted with the thought than she did. She wanted to ask how…but he looked to be about Trunks' age, maybe a little older. She didn't want him to think she was jealous. Was she jealous? Had he slept with someone else while he had been with her and how could that have been possible? Was it when he would leave for periods of time with Nappa and Radditz?

"He is a clone made from my genetic material…by my father," came Vegeta's voice as if he were reading her questioning mind. She looked up to see him still standing by the door, like a statue of an immortal…and about as stiff. "I had no knowledge of this prior to our arrival."

"Oh," was all Bulma could think to say about that. It was lame, she knew. But she also knew from experience that prying into Vegeta's past and familial relationships would only get her a cold shoulder the likes of which could cause hypothermia. And Vegeta didn't seem all that willing to offer any more information.

She frowned, as something occurred to her. "So you haven't had the chance to…" She blinked at Vegeta. "You have two sons now that you barely know."

Vegeta waved a hand sharply, coming further into the room and armor firmly in place, and oh how did Bulma want to shed it…!

"I have no interests in sons or clones. I have no interest in raising brats," Vegeta said firmly, stalking toward her. "I've told you already why you're here. And nothing has changed. You are here to help me become powerful enough to defeat Frieza. Our son is here because his blood could help achieve that end. I don't know why the other brat is here and I don't care why. He is a creature of my father's."

Bulma rubbed her face with her hand, thinking of how wrong he was, but not saying a damned thing about it. She shook her head just ever so gently, and Vegeta was on her, wrapped around her wrists so he could look her in the face. "Don't do that," he warned her.

Bulma stared at him in the space of their breaths and thought that he was just…so…sad. How could he know Trunks and even believe such a thing? How long would he fight the inevitable? But he wouldn't stand for pity. Not Vegeta. And as always, the childlike confusion just beneath his bravado was endearing to her. She was drawn to him by impulse and design.

So she leaned in closer as he kept her trapped, until she was just blue, blue eyes and soft lips and pert nose to his vision. And then those eyes fluttered closed and she tested her lips against his, just a sweet touch, and then firmer. Her lashes danced against his cheeks as she drew back and looked at him.

And then they sunk right into it all.

It wasn't going to be for long, she told herself. And that's what she would tell Trunks. In the meantime…there was this infuriating man, and the ever-changing game they played.

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"So you call that woman 'mother'."

There words were resounding in the empty hall that Trunks was attempting to sneak around, out of Nappa's sight. It would only be another few moments before the Saiyan giant would realize that Trunks' request for a history book to discover if there had been any other Saiyans in history with lavender tails was really just a ruse to get out from under his watchful eye.

Trunks swiveled his head to the lone figure standing further down, arms regally at his sides but watching Trunks with a strange expression on his face, like he was imagining Trunks being lit on fire or something and enjoying the picture it presented…

And he didn't like the way that Geta said "mother". And then something occurred to him.

"Yes," Trunks answered back, his voice carrying. He took a few steps back the way he came, trying to look as dangerous as possible, even with his arm in a sling. It twinged, but he ignored it. "You don't have a mother, do you, Geta?"

The little flame-headed boy bristled and then stiffened at the question. "No," he practically spat. "What use would I have for a mother?! That's not how we do things anymore. You are different." His nose crinkled in disgust at Trunks, who felt his own irritation rise in response.

"Well, who cares what you think?" Trunks declared hotly. "Where I come from, everyone has mothers! And if you weren't such a jerk, I'd probably feel bad for you, because my mama is the best person here or anywhere else and you don't even have one!"

Growling, Geta threw a punch that Trunks swiftly blocked, though at the cost of jolting his arm, causing him to grit his teeth and yell. But Geta stopped suddenly, his breathing loud and all around. And then his lips curled up into an ugly smirk. "You don't need to feel bad for me. I'm not the one who will need to worry."

"Worry about what?" Trunks shot back, and though he wouldn't admit it, the look on Geta's face was making him feel like they were still fighting. He refused to let this guy think he was afraid of anything!

"Well… I read her power level." Geta pretended to look thoughtful. "She'd be easy to kill."

Trunks clenched his fists. "What?!" Was Geta saying that he wanted to hurt his mom? Because Trunks would never let that happen. And Geta was slow to respond, still looking calm and pensive, with a quiet that made Trunks want to pummel him.

"I don't have to be afraid of anything happening to my mother, do I?"

Trunks didn't respond, because that was true. So he stared at Geta and his horrible smile until Geta turned around and walked away.

"Next time, fight fair!" Trunks yelled at his brother's back. He had tried to be nice before, but he could see now that Geta didn't want to be friends. He thought Geta was stupid if he didn't even want to be nice to his own family… Trunks adjusted the sling's strap higher on his shoulder, and then almost ran right into someone.

"Oh, sorry!" he said automatically, before stepping back and blinking. "Hey…I almost thought you were my papa. But you have a beard!"

King Vegeta frowned at the boy, looking him over very carefully. The colors may not have been right...but that face was definitely and unmistakably a Vegeta. Still, he nearly let his grandson go totally unacknowledged, especially after seeing that offensive, floppy head of hair that brat had. But he felt as if he needed to impart some grandfatherly wisdom to the child, misbegotten spawn or not.

"There's no such thing as fighting fair, brat. It's victory or defeat. How soon you learn that determines how long you live."

And then he continued past Trunks as if he were nothing more than a painting on the wall, completely unworthy of his time.

And Trunks suddenly didn't feel like exploring anymore. So he waited until Nappa caught on and found him, wishing that maybe it were somebody else. Or that he was somewhere else.

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Bulma remembered all too clearly the things she told her son and the things that she told herself.

Not long after that she would wonder what she had done. What did I do? What did I do?

But how do you stop a butterfly's wings from fluttering? And how then do you stop that motion from rippling out into the world and creating a hurricane?

There were so many different places where everything changed, yet Bulma couldn't think of a proper time or moment when it shouldn't have.

It wasn't the day that Vegeta landed on Earth again and discovered that he had a son. What could she have done about that? Physically and quite alone, Vegeta was unstoppable to her.

It wasn't the day she slept with Vegeta for the first time, or the second time, or…well all of those times up until he left and they conceived a child. Because Trunks was not something she would ever be willing to give up.

It wasn't a particular day or moment that could be selected and changed, so Bulma never toyed around with the idea of building a time machine after that.

Instead, she researched. And she made herself invaluable as a scientist on Vegeta-sei to boot. And months quickly became years.

Every spare moment was dedicated to the pursuit of a way out…because the second day of her life in Vegeta-sei, she scraped her fingers against Vegeta's back and he bit back a moan against her throat and she knew he was never going to let her go.

Vividly, she would always recall that day he discovered he had another son and she kissed him and they tangled together in her bed for the first time in years. But mostly, she remembered before that; the way the boy looked at her with such coldness that her arms erupted in chills. Geta…was all that Trunks wasn't, and yet, they were both so Saiyan.

And she was filled with panic because she didn't know how to hold on to her boy on Vegeta-sei when it was nothing she knew and everything Vegeta did.

That day she went screaming into their training and met his other son. That night, she crashed her lips against his in some furious competition and told herself that she was conceding nothing to him. And Vegeta was all too happy to oblige.

As their son slept, gripped his arms as he loomed over her and sucked desperately on her neck, thrusting furiously and yet gentle enough not to break her. Their breathing rose together and sweat bloomed on her forehead as he melded himself closer and closer until she looked up and all she could see was his black eyes, his powerful arms caging her in. And as he neared his climax with their faces pressed together and their pants chasing each other's lips, she realized that he had just been waiting for her capitulation.

But it was just another feeling in a long list of what she knew he felt before he did.

And his power was familiar and consuming and him. Uniquely him in a way that built a terrible awareness in her that though she hadn't known it, nothing was going to come close. There wasn't another in the universe who had the ability to make her feel this way. And they had a child together.

They had a child together. And that was one inerasable fact.

Vegeta worked to protect her in ways that she was sure he didn't realize and also in ways that he did. Nappa was forever at her back, to her eternal annoyance. And Vegeta automatically worked to keep her out of his father's way. And though the King of All Saiyans' eyes would often glitter with amusement at her, the way he looked at her had such an underlying hatred that her legs went numb and she couldn't move. So she let Vegeta shield her. And she got her revenge by continuing to invite the Crown Prince to her bed at night. There were worse things she could do.

"I'm telling myself that I can protect you this way," she said to her little boy as his eyes fluttered closed below lavender bangs and his breathing evened out to a deep song, tail puffed out and reaching for her. "But that's not all it is…"

She would have her little indulgences. Vegeta almost made her a slave in his goal to get stronger.

She would make a slave of him as well.

FIVE YEARS LATER

Trunks, bloodied and torn, limped past the slaves of the Tech Department, waving to the odd brave soul who looked up, offering a crooked smile. Most were used enough to his presence or shy enough of his status as Son of the Crown Prince to not pay him much mind. He was not looking for them anyway, as they huddled around this project and that.

"Loid!" Trunks called enthusiastically once he had sights on the co-head of the Department. He raised an arm, wincing. The wizened alien inclined his head in greeting, lip curling in mingled concern and disgust at the sight of the half-Saiyan boy. Blood sport was genetic, it seemed…and Loid would never understand the fascination. He 'tsked' as Trunks came closer.

"Your mother is going to have a fit when she sees you," Loid mumbled distastefully.

"Yeah, she's gonna really freak," he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "There was nothing to clean up with…"

The slave smiled, unable to suppress one at this muscular, pre-teen monster before him being worried at the wrath of his tiny human mother. Loid nodded to the closed door just beyond them and sighed. "She's there, working on her private projects… I doubt she'll mind if you disturb her."

"Thank you." Despite the ruthless and oftentimes boorish demeanor of the overlords of this planet, Trunks had been thoroughly schooled in royal manners from his father and the importance of using them with everyone, no matter how supposedly lowly, from his mother. Therefore, he was a polite boy.

Bulma's voice was quieter than usual and her headset was on as she squinted towards a small screen. And because of those tell-tale signs, Trunks knew immediately who was on the other end.

"No…not exactly like that, this portion, you'll have to replicate with something else, but it should be easy enough because it's really just a capacitor…" His mother was waving some weird-looking thing in the air. "If it's not on the inside, I'm pretty sure it will fry."

Trunks cleared his throat, not wanting to appear as if he was eavesdropping, and his mother brightened even before she looked up, blue eyes twinkling even with the bruising lack of sleep that ringed them. "I'd recognized that throat-clearing anywhere! Come say 'hi' to Grandpa, sweetie!" When she did look up, the smile melted right off her face as she took in his bloodied state. "Trunks! What the hell?! Were all of the regen tanks full? You're a mess!"

"Mooommmm," Trunks groaned. "I don't need the regen tank! It wasn't even that serious."

"Were you fighting with Geta?" Bulma asked pointedly. "Is he in the tank?"

"When does he ever need the tank? Though he uses it all the time…" Trunks mumbled, traces of bitterness in his voice. He did his best to walk without a trace of unevenness, smiling painfully so she wouldn't force him to the infirmary like she had so many times before. And in his mind, his father sneered.

"I'm fine, Mom and I'd love to talk to Grandpa."

He moved quickly, knowing very well to cut Bulma off before she got started on her lecture and he bent down and grinned at the lavender bowl cut so like his own. "Hey, Gramps!"

"Hello, Trunks! Woah, you're quite a sight, my boy… What does the other guy look like?"

"Worse than me," Trunks said smugly, knowing it wasn't a real question. "Whatcha doing over there?"

"Same thing I'm doing most of the time, working on something new with your mother. Say, you keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn't overwork herself, okay?"

"I'll try," Trunks said, knowing that that was not a promise he could make. His mother was notorious for staying at the lab at all hours, making Nappa stand around until his father came downstairs and threw her over his shoulder to get her out while she hissed at him like an angry cat.

"Actually Dad…" Bulma pressed her fingers into Trunks' shoulder, keeping him in place. "I need Trunks in on this too…you mind helping me explain what we're doing?"

Trunks took a deep breath and paused. His mother had recently been telling him things…important things about Dragonballs and travelling at light-speed to get to some planet called "Namek". But he was never to repeat those things unless he needed to…and Trunks sometimes thought that was code for 'if anything happens to me' when Bulma started in about it. And that was something that made Trunks' blood run cold.

His mother…was not the most popular alien on the planet. The king hated his father's relationship with his mother. Most of the Elite were disgusted by it, essentially anyone who had not benefitted from Bulma's inventions (and some who did) could not just get over the fact that she was an alien living in the palace under very few constraints, not enslaved…at least to the naked eye.

They had been on Vegeta-sei for a long time, so long that Trunks could barely remember his home planet or his mother's old friends, like Goku and Krillin and Yamcha, except the rare moments when they came through a screen. But in all that time, the Saiyans had really not become much more welcoming than they had been in the first place, from the half-Saiyan's scant memory. Trunks had spent a couple of years trying to control his fury over those prejudices after a few incidences where his mother almost fell to harm, once he grew old enough to understand things a little better.

But his mom was also one of the most well-protected beings on the planet, if you took into account himself. And Vegeta.

Vegeta, my father, Prince of All Saiyans… Trunks knew that his father didn't like to seem weak, and he had lived on Vegeta-sei long enough to know what Saiyans thought were weaknesses, and an attachment to a puny human woman was definitely a weakness. His father would definitely protect Bulma, but the darker part of Trunks' young mind often worried about whether that protection had a limit. And where that limit lay…

But that was okay, because Trunks was good enough to protect Bulma from nearly everything and everyone, barring one or two people…

"Baby, I hope you're listening closely."

Trunks shook his head, refocusing on the conversation at hand. He didn't have the science-nerd brain that his mother had, but he was smart enough that he could at least understand what she was doing, if not how she did it.

And then there was the why she did it…

That was the hardest part for Trunks to understand.

Even when he had been just a baby, Trunks was no fool. He had always known that his mother hadn't come here with him by choice. Not really. But over time, he thought…well, he had thought that she had grown used to it. And that she had wanted to stay with his father. He was pretty sure his father didn't really know what his mother was doing down here, that he didn't know that things that Trunks did about her mother's near-successful attempts at replicating long-term space travel on Earth and her knowledge about the Dragonballs and where they were and what they could do…

There were many things Bulma kept from Vegeta. And because of that, Trunks kept those things from him too.

Trunks was only ten, but from the beginning, he had known where his loyalty lay. And it was firmly with the woman who had always been there, who had held him even when he pretended not to want to be held, and who had fixed him up when he was mangled from a fight with his brother, and who had lied to him so that he wouldn't be scared when they had to leave Earth.

He didn't know what he felt for his father. He had thought he did, once… but then his father once told him that love didn't exist and that nobody on Vegeta-sei loved anybody else, least of all the Prince of All Saiyans. And if he were to be a true Saiyan, he needed to stop clinging to his mother like a cub and dropped these ridiculous notions.

"It exists for us," his mother told him that night when he was laying in bed, burdened by the confusion of that conversation. She sounded so sure that he believed her. At least, he knew he loved her.

But did he love someone who didn't believe in it? And who claimed he didn't love Trunks or anyone else?

He didn't know.

And he didn't understand his parents' relationship either, but that wasn't for him to handle. As long as Vegeta didn't hurt her, he was totally fine with not understanding them.

Trunks tried to tune back in to his grandfather's tech-speak, but the sentiment echoed inside him like a pebble down a well.

As long as nobody hurt her…

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"The Western Regiments have been grounded for long enough this past month," the King said, folding his hands in front of him. "With Frieza putting all North and East out for raids, we need to look to what we are sourcing out for our own people. Taking more slaves instead of wiping out entire populations. There are many areas in which we can improve our intake."

"Culinary skills, for instance," Vegeta said with something approaching sarcasm, though he wasn't really being sarcastic. Most planets he had wiped out or raided had better food than the paltry means they had here. Earth especially…not that he was going to tip off his father about that.

Sweet words curled around his ear, promising her forever presence if he only did a few little things…one of those being that her planet remain unmolested. That was of no consequence to him.

The King barely glanced askance at the Prince before giving a slight nod. "A less…pressing matter, but true all the same."

There were scattered whispers around the table, but Vegeta's ears perked at one of the more scathing murmurs, not so much angered as surprised at the unmitigated gall. The Prince pressed his open palms to the table, a suffocating power thrumming so dangerously to the surface that the room went silent. The progression of power level that Vegeta had experience while on his planet was second to none, alarming…almost legendary.

"What was that you said, Lord Cumber?"

This Elite was new to the table, his father perished while on one of Frieza's missions not long ago. Even younger than Vegeta, he was the youngest sitting General Elite… and the most brash, though he tried to mask it for the sake of his status.

If Cumber had not been a Saiyan, he would have shrunk under the heat of Vegeta's glower, if not the power of his ki (power the likes of which had never been seen before on Vegeta-sei except in that of legends). But as he was a Saiyan, he leaned forward slightly before inclining his head as a show deferment. "I said, my Prince, that as you are the most…well-traveled Saiyan on-planet, perhaps you could tell us where you find all of those…delicacies you are pondering at the moment."

Vegeta held back a sneer at the common jab, one he was all too used to, and one driven by envy. The Prince could do as he wished because he had the power level to back it up. Not even his father could upbraid his activities, try as he might. Mustering the largest show of arrogance that he could, Vegeta leaned back in his chair. "I could make every suggestion in the galaxy, Cumber…but I doubt one such as you could appreciate what I've seen. And what I've tasted."

The King, having led advisory meetings for the last fifty years, quickly interjected before the conversation could devolve. "My son could point out a few planets Frieza may not have deemed important enough for takeover that could suit our needs. General Cauli will prepare the Western Regiments once we have further suggestion. Vegeta, see to it that you meet with them and make some suggestions. Otherwise, there are no new missives from the PTO, so we are adjourned."

No one missed the hurried dismissal, and yet no one but Prince Vegeta would dare challenge King Vegeta…and the prince was not interested in objecting, knowing the ensuing battle would have been bloodless, and therefore, pointless. So once the room was cleared, the King stared impassively at his son, seated across the long table.

"I've never seen you so eager to trade verbal barbs."

"The additional peons that now sit on the council seem to bring it out in me," Vegeta replied, crossing his arms. "Say what you wish to say before I get bored and leave." He knew his father wished to speak to him privately and occasionally, he humored the man, just to unsettle him if nothing else.

"Lord Frieza will be due for a visit within the year," his father said.

Despite already knowing this, hearing it said aloud still caused Vegeta to tense, as always a mention of Frieza would. The Ice abomination reminded him of failure, though he had yet to face the monster in combat.

"And it's been five years since you've come back…with your stowaway alien cargo."

"And?" Vegeta knew very well why he was upset about the impending visit…he just didn't understand why his father seemed so concerned. The Saiyan King had been dealing delicately with Frieza for years, in ways that Vegeta himself couldn't have. That was the whole point of keeping his father alive! So why didn't he seem so ill-at-ease now? He couldn't have been worried about Vegeta. He already made arrangements in case Vegeta were to perish…in the form of that arrogant little clone.

"I wondered what you intend to do about it."

"What I intend to do about what?" Vegeta sneered. He didn't understand where this was supposed to be leading, but he already knew that he didn't like it.

"I mean…do you intend to stay on-planet? Do you intend to hide them away?" the King drawled, now more easily since he always felt more comfortable playing mind games with his more powerful son than speaking frankly. It was an exercise in the younger Vegeta's self-control to let him finish his little speeches. "Do you think once Lord Frieza sees how much the little alien woman means to you that he will let you keep her?"

Ah, it was this again… Vegeta looked away, smirking darkly. It always came back to this: how much his father despised his consorting with Bulma, a weak specimen by his estimation, with a knack for science that would make her an excellent slave.

"I know what your father wants," Bulma breathed sharply against his ear as his snapped the button of her pants with too much force and pulled her against him. Her slight, pale arms wrapped around his head and she purred at the press of his desire against her. "He would rip me to shreds if he could."

"What did I tell you?" Vegeta growled against her lips, hauling her up around his waist. "I don't want to talk about my father right now."

"If he had his way, I'd be in the basement all the time with Loid." She laughed, sounding careless, but there was also something taut in her voice. Vegeta dropped her legs and let her sink to the ground, tired of this conversation and angry that she was ignoring his orders. He put distance between them, willing the mood to die and staring at the opposite wall. He waited for her to say something more, because she always did.

Meanwhile, the sound of their heavy breath rattled against the walls. She played quite a game with him, he knew. But he also…he couldn't stop playing it either. And as long as they were working with each other, he could rationalize continuing to do so. But if he ever found out that she betrayed him? Oh, would that be a dark day…

After a moment, the blue woman came up behind him and draped herself against his back in that way she had…the one that set his teeth on edge. "I'm already yours," she pointed out softly. "You don't need me to be a slave of Vegeta-sei."

He kept her in suspense for a beat before turning and lifting her in one smooth movement, kissing her roughly. "You only ever need to be worried about where I want you," his voice was possessive and gruff, checking whatever it was that he felt when he was with her.

"Thinking of her again?" As usual, his father interrupted as if he knew.

"Jealous?" Vegeta sneered. "Consult your harem." Nothing made Vegeta more furious than when his father correctly guessed where his thoughts wandered. When he had put so much time and distance between them, he had expected less ineffectual results. The only fortunate thing was that the King did not realize that things were not all well where Bulma was concerned.

Not that he would think about that now. It was…unimportant.

"This little blue alien promised you strength, didn't she?" continued his father, undeterred. "And what have you to show for it?"

Vegeta glowered at his father, that power thrumming back to life and making the air pulse. "I could beat the life out of any Saiyan on this planet," he swore, knowing it to be true and even more. And his father nodded, in complete agreement.

"Yes, you've become extremely strong. Some would say impossibly so." Of course, the words were devoid of the praise that such a compliment would usually mean from one's own father. The King inclined his head. "I wonder though, if it's enough to fell Frieza…and how you could even know such a thing when you have never seen Frieza's final forms. And what about the little whelp you got on your woman? Do remember how long ago it was that you told me his half-blood was the key to Frieza's defeat? And after five years, what is there to show for it?"

Vegeta's hands were clenched so hard that he thought they might bleed. It would not do for his father to insult his legacy, supposed taint or not. "That boy you so disparage could tear you to shreds!" Indeed, Trunks was uncommonly strong for a Saiyan youth, a fact Vegeta fully attributed to his own blood at this point, and not the woman's. Though, she still flatly disagreed, which was extremely annoyed and led to several problems.

But he wasn't going to think about that.

"So could your full-blooded son," the King reminded him readily. "In fact, what was the result of their last bout? Oh—don't tell me—the conditions must be right for him to claim victory. I've heard it before."

"Is that what you told Frieza," Vegeta snapped back darkly, now on his feet, "before you handed Tarble over to him?"

A horrible quiet fell over the table. This was the first time Vegeta had brought it up in years, but it had forever been a stain in his mind against his father. Who was he to speak about sons? When he had given one of his own to that Saiyan-despising monster?!

Finally, the King was the one that stood, and Vegeta felt horrible sort of victory in the action. Verbal battles with his father were always harder-won. But the odd glint in his father's eye gave him pause. "Don't," he pronounced, "speak of things that you know nothing about."

The King turned away to leave, as expected, but Vegeta wondered what exactly had been in his eyes. "I'll leave you to your little experiments, and your amusing little alien woman, as always. But don't forget what Frieza may do if he discovers those little experiments…and your little alien woman."

His father didn't need to elaborate. Frieza was well-known for playing with his food before he ate it.

Vegeta stared down the long table, frowning as he tumbled into the dark tunnel of thoughts. Bulma, Trunks…the clone brat. His father. His wretched people.

If he died, he knew…none of them would live either. But even more galling was the realization that Frieza would live if he died.

A/N: Vegeta has his priorities, doesn't he? So we just did a little time jump that is going to bring us right where I need to be. History, characters' relationships and development is all going to be very important now, so bear with me! We'll also see where everybody else is-Nappa, Goku, Geta, etc.

And, please review, guys! Questions? Thoughts? Good? No? Let me know!