A/N: Hello! I'm sorry, but it really feels like crickets around here lately. Traffic/reviews is nearly non-existent, and it seems to only be this bad in this fandom... But I still decided to post here again, I guess we'll see what happens. Thanks to Kgvision (swimming to come, but maybe not immediately lol) for the review!

Chapter 26:

Gohan had a revelation. As his hands shook after the last blast, and Recoome fell from the sky after receiving his blinding, destructive rage, Gohan automatically looked away, so he wouldn't have to see. And he understood what it took for him to do what he had to do.

He had to look. Once. He forced himself to look down at the hole in the Ginyu member's chest to confirm it: this guy wouldn't be getting back up. His hand trembled and the beginnings of being violently ill crept up on him. An energy beam, that was all. How had Trunks pulled out a heart?

Leave it, came the whispered answer. It's over now.

That was it. Leave him there and forget that he would stay there until he rotted. Gohan's stomach clenched unpleasantly and he fully accepted what had run through his mind. He had to get back to Krillin, that was all. He had to bring him to Dende right now.

VBVBVBVBVBVB

Trunks' heart skipped more than one beat as he finally saw what Captain Ginyu was doing. It was a final shot and it counted; Trunks knew he was done for. He didn't even have time to run through every regret as the light came for him, and something small and dark flew into its path and took it.

"Wha—?"

It flew past his line of vision, winking away as small as it was. And Captain Ginyu fell.

Trunks trailed behind him, forgetting about whatever it was that had intercepted the change beam. It could have been another trick.

Nappa also veered around and traced Ginyu. "What the hell was that?!"

Goku was looking upward too, and even from this distance, Trunks could see how injured he was. But he also looked amazingly relieved. Captain Ginyu crashed to the ground, except …he landed on all fours?

"…ribbit." A deep, inhuman croak as Trunks touched to the ground with Nappa beside him. The sound actually reminded Trunks of Earth, of…

"A frog?" he muttered, kneeling to examine him. Nappa grabbed his shoulder.

"Are you crazy, boy?!"

"Ribbit."

"No!" Trunks pulled away. "He sounds like a frog! Did Goku—?" He HOPPED and Trunks startled back, eyes wide.

"Yeah, he threw some slimy thing," Nappa conceded, now finally sounding weirded out. "What the fuck is he doing?"

"S'not him…" Trunks said. "He's…" Trunks looked into the distance, in the direction that what was probably a frog had disappeared. "Goku!" Forgetting about the strange scene, he rushed to Goku's side. "You okay? I mean, are you dying?!" It was clear that Goku was not 'okay', but he had to figure out what to do if it was urgent.

"Didn't miss." Goku laid back.

"Yeah, your aim was incredible," Trunks exclaimed. "You…" a lump appeared in his throat that took him completely by surprise. "You saved me."

The Saiyan, though obviously exhausted and hurting, lifted his hand and patted Trunks on the back. "I gotcha, kid."

Trunks pressed his lips together hard and turned towards Nappa, who was still watching frog-Ginyu jump around vacantly, fascinated. "Hey! We need to get him to Dende or the ship Regen Tank."

Nappa huffed, but strode over. "What? You want me to carry the imbecile?"

"S'least you can do, considering that if Goku hadn't done something, you'd be explaining to Dad why I had lavender lizard skin instead of hair…"

Nappa rolled his eyes, but didn't deny it. His lip still curled when he looked at Goku. "Pick a place then, because I'm not hauling him around any longer than I have to. We should be celebrating taking down the entire Ginyu Force, not providing medical care to weak aliens."

"He's Saiyan," Trunks said hotly, and then he realized something. "We don't know if the whole group has been taken down. We need to go back to Dende and see if Gohan and Krillin got back."

"Or if they're still alive."

Trunks ignored him and took off, leaving the begrudged heavy-lifting to Nappa and thinking about loyalty.

VBVBVBVBVBVB

Come on, Vegeta …just go with it. Bulma wanted to will her Saiyan lover into not exploding on her about this. But instead, his head swiveled toward Bok, hackles raised.

"What did I tell you?" he snarled.

The guard straightened, an excuse spilling out. "Her Majesty was never going to leave. I just let her put on that stuff so it was less time I'd have to spend blocking the door."

"Excuse me!" Bulma dropped the mask. "Aren't I the Queen now, according to you? Why should he stop me going anywhere?!"

But Vegeta looked vastly approving of Bok's decision now that he heard his reasoning, his dark brow lightening a bit. "If this wasn't the most important job you could have, you'd get a promotion," he assured him. "You clearly understand how impossible this female is after very little time with her."

Bulma almost choked when she saw her guard's cheeks actually flush at the compliment. "Oh please, you two aren't gonna start some bromance built on some psychopathic need to control me? And that goes double for you, Vegeta!"

"Stop blathering on and tell me where you think you were headed before I got here."

"I am headed to that lake place you took me. You know the—"

"Oh really?" Vegeta snorted, interrupting her. "Not a chance."

Bulma gaped at him, not understanding what his problem was. She looked around the filled room and her increasingly frazzled team of techs, who visibly had one visit too many from the King of Vegeta-sei. She glanced back at her office, before grabbing Vegeta's wrist and tugging. But he didn't placate her this time, and she was unable to move him an inch. Bok raised an eyebrow at her struggle, and she wasn't sure if it was a silent commentary on how stupid she must look throwing her weight against the most powerful being on the planet or that she was daring to try and move him somewhere he didn't want to go. She dropped the over-muscled arm in defeat.

"I thought you might want to continue this in private, Vegeta? Hint, hint?"

Vegeta, for his part, watched her in silence and then blatantly looked her up and down. "We will go back to the Royal Wing, where you will remove that horrendous water-costume, because you are not going anywhere tonight!"

"—tonight?"

"Yes," Vegeta said dryly. "Not that I expected you to know, but night has fallen and there is absolutely no chance I will allow you to go diving in the pitch-black. So, you can remove that thought from your lunatic head and dismiss your slaves for the night so that they will not riot over abysmal working conditions. Unless, of course, you are interested in bearing witness to a massacre?"

A few of the techs squealed with horror and someone passed out, causing a slight panic. Bulma jumped forward and waved her hands to get their attention, hoping she looked far more reassuring than she felt. "He was just kidding, guys! Just kidding! But seriously, you can leave, I didn't realize how late it was. Sorry!"

There was a hurried, mass exodus toward the doors, two techs dragging the fainted one behind them without complaint. Bulma glowered at Vegeta once they had all filtered out. "Seriously, what is wrong with you?!"

"You lied to them, Woman. I have no problem carrying out a massacre of the disobedient."

"Then I guess I'll have to be first in line!" she swore to him, stepping forward. "And guess what? When Frieza is finally wiped off the face of the universe, my first act as 'Queen' will be to set all of those people free! What do you think of that?"

She felt Bok shift slightly closer to her, and she wondered if he thought that Vegeta would not take kindly to her remarks. Yet, Vegeta raised his eyebrows at her and then laughed almost patronizingly.

"After Frieza's dead, do as you wish. It's your help, Woman!"

She knew he was goading her a little, but she still stepped forward, looking up in his eyes. "I will."

His smirk widened at her mouthiness, and then he looked her up and down and it faded slightly. "I can't take you seriously in that ridiculous outfit."

Bulma knew that she wouldn't be able to go diving anyway tonight, so she turned to head into her office. But Vegeta captured her wrist and when he pulled, she stumbled toward him, helpless to that inherent Saiyan strength. "Not here."

She yanked her arm from his hold so he couldn't do that again. "Hello? I need my clothes at least! And maybe I shouldchange here, because the last thing you need is any ideas…"

She was poking the bear, and Vegeta proved it as his lip curled and he refused to respond to her last remark. But his cheeks did darken. "Get your clothing," he ordered. "And you can wish it goodbye while you retrieve it, as it no longer befits your station."

Bulma scoffed as she moved back towards the office. It was amazing to her that in her relationship, the male was the one who wanted her to update her wardrobe, while they were currently in-crisis and had other things to worry about. But she knew he was shifting topics to avoid any embarrassment she might inflict on him had he actually addressed what she said. "Okay, Vegeta. Whatever…"

She bundled it up in her hands and did have a passing thought about what the Queen of Vegeta-sei was supposed to wear. There obviously hadn't been a queen since she had been on this planet, and the old King, Vegeta, Geta, and Trunks had always worn caped, military dress. Would the Queen have been outfitted the same way?

She didn't ask, unless Vegeta got it in his head to actually set up an appointment with a Saiyan stylist or something. He could be very weird that way… And like a lot of other things, she'd rather not think about Vegeta's abrupt declaration and what it meant for her.

She wasn't stupid to Vegeta's behavior. He was acting different with her, and she knew it was likely because she had been dead for Kami-knows-how-long. It was just another thing she'd never mention to him for fear that he'd become conscious about it and try further to hide his feelings from her. But he would have never shown up tonight and dismissed her techs before this …new phase of their relationship.

She knew, somehow, that she was acting different too, and in her mind she had labeled it as self-preservation. She was deliberately and doggedly light, without all of the madness and frustration that colored their relationship before her death, anything to feel less of a burden than she felt.

She had been so angry about Trunks—was so angry still, like she'd told Vegeta. But Bulma had never been good at being so single-minded when it came to emotions.

She had woken up to Vegeta.

She had been dead, and still lived in the memory of the two of them together. It was impossible to forget that. It was impossible to ignore the look in his eyes that he was trying so unsuccessfully to hide. It was impossible to stop trying to help him.

But she couldn't help him tonight.

She walked past both of them, Vegeta and Bok, without a word. Vegeta came alongside her immediately. Bok trailed behind, probably because he was the guard and that was his job.

Bok had been watching them with as much terrified alertness as a kid in a haunted house: confused, ready for something to jump out at him, and unwillingly fascinated all the same. She didn't blame him. She knew the kind of image that Vegeta projected to his people, and she wouldn't be surprised if the poor guy had been afraid for her. He'd get used to it, though.

"Where are you going, Woman?!"

Bulma stuttered in her walk, turning towards the King. "To sleep?" she ventured. "What, you're gonna object to that now?"

"You're not sleeping in there."

She was so close to throwing that self-assured statement back up in his face. But something stopped her before she even realized, and the words that came out of her mouth were nothing like her rebellious thoughts. "I need to get some clothes, Vegeta, whether you 'approve' or not. So give me a second, geez!"

She didn't imagine the secret relief on his face when she said that, and it calmed something in her as she disappeared through the door of the Crown Prince's chambers.

Vegeta turned to Bok. "You are dismissed."

The Saiyan guard hesitated. "…is anyone else coming to relieve me?"

The King scowled. "You think that I can't protect my—" He cleared his throat. "I can protect the Queen sufficiently myself at night, but I will expect you come in the morning to fulfill your responsibilities. So report here, and report directly to myself, from now on. You are no longer a door guard. Ensure that you notify the appropriate superiors."

"Are you sure, Your Majesty?"

Vegeta knew what the guard was asking, so he answered. "She tolerates you well. Better than she has any other guards and with time, I believe you to be smart enough to deal with her worst habits. You will have this position until I am proven wrong."

"Of course, Your Majesty." The barely-stifled pride in his voice was a good sign. He pounded his chest once in respect and left.

"You can stop eavesdropping now, Woman. He's gone."

Bulma sidled toward him with her things. "I wasn't eavesdropping."

"Whatever." It wasn't worth the argument to him, clearly.

Her trepidation mounted as they re-entered the room she had found herself in when she had reawakened to life. It was huge and warm, though the fact someone who hated her had resided here recently made her blood run cold. She took slow steps inward and paused when Vegeta rounded towards her.

"This is where we will stay from now on."

"Yeah, because you killed the last occupant," she muttered, feeling suddenly frustrated.

She didn't know; maybe it was just all his orders, maybe it was the uncomfortable scuba suit she didn't need to wear in the first place, or maybe it was the ever-present issue of Trunks being unsafe and out of sight… She wanted to hurt someone, and she could only really hurt him, and not in a way that he would particularly care about. Powerless …that's what she felt.

"I killed him here."

Bulma nearly jumped out of her skin at the words, and Vegeta was staring at a spot on the floor.

"He was polishing a sword and I pinned him—"

"Ugh!" Bulma clamped her hands over her ears, repulsed. "Can you stop?!"

Like he was struck out of a daze, his head lifted to look at her. "What?"

"I don't want to hear about the murder of your father, thanks! I know he wasn't a great guy, but—"

"But what?"

" …but—but I don't …I don't get pleasure out of graphic descriptions of murders! Okay?"

Vegeta was silent for a long moment, and it had started to make her uncomfortable (hell, this whole situation was abruptly very uncomfortable), but finally he spoke again.

"I'm not."

"Not what?"

"A 'great guy', or so you call them …either."

Bulma gaped at him, but he continued to stare at the wall like there was something fascinating over there. That sounded almost like an apology. Actually, coming from Vegeta, that was literally an apology. It was vague and indirect and hidden, but…

"And I shouldn't care about you either."

Oh, there it was. Her eyes nearly rolled out of her head. "Gee. Thanks."

He finally met her eye. "You don't understand my meaning. You said it yourself. You don't take any pleasure from violence, you don't take pleasure out of revenge on your enemies—"

"—yeah, I really wouldn't go that far…"

"Perhaps. But what would you have had me do with the clone child?"

Bulma's mouth closed, because she couldn't think of an answer. Vegeta huffed. "Precisely. You are too delicate and weak physically. You're too soft… Which does beg the question—what are you doing?!"

She glanced up from where she had begun to bend over and free herself from the tight material. "That's the question begged, Vegeta? I'm taking the suit off. Like you demanded earlier."

"Here?!"

It took everything she had to not smile, but she succeeded admirably. "Where else?"

"The washroom," he offered in a clipped voice, and that's how she knew she was getting him.

"I'm fine here." She peeled it off one leg and was nearly done with the other when Vegeta's hand wrapped around her wrist, grip loose. Once he made contact, it felt about 30 degrees hotter suddenly. She ignored that blazing inconvenience and finished pulling it off.

"What are you doing?" he repeated.

The suit was skin-tight, and she had stripped down to her underwear to get it on. He was no saint. She blinked and he was closer again. Her breasts brushed against his chest and she had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes. Black flames. "I'm taking my clothes off."

He made a noise, a suppressed groan.

"You think I'm weak?" she asked. He was still as granite when she touched his abs with a hand and traveled up, grazing her fingers the whole way to his shoulder. "You do."

He shook his head, or it could have been a trick of shadow. But he didn't answer her and she felt her mouth reluctantly turn down as she watched him refuse to acknowledge it. He wasn't much taller than her at all, but from their non-distance she had to raise off of her heels to lean into his ear. "You need a new definition. Of strength and weakness, Vegeta."

He shifted his head towards her, and his movement was surprising in all his frozen state, like a statue coming alive. His cheek was warm against hers. "I don't, Bulma." Quick and deadly as a snake strike, she felt his hand on the back of her neck, holding her there close. "But you need to stop teasing what you will not do."

Oh Kami, she wanted to do it. And for a moment, she was ready to just forget the point and surrender. He was in one of those moods where he would have lasted the entire night and she would have happily obliged even if it meant losing sleep. She blinked and forced away the feeling of him on top of her, at the banks of her dream. She shifted back onto her heels and he kept his grip on her even as he let her do so freely.

"Or you could just take it. Right, Vegeta?"

Again, he surprised her by responding immediately. "No one. Including me. Will ever take something from you again."

Oh wow.

His answer carried her off back into fantasy and dream and almost before she knew it, her lips collided with his aggressively. He was reciprocating almost before she connected, the hand on her neck tangling into her hair and clenching.

Oh no, oh no, her hands buckled and gripped his back to press him against her and she felt his hardness pushing against her and that was too much—she pushed him back away, and he went …but her hands remained against his chest as it rose up and down, powerfully. It was the same look, the same set of his jaw that he had when he was pushing himself too far in training, on the edge of his limit. She quelled the desire to stroke the line of his face.

She forced herself to speak. "Or …you could go and be with someone else."

His nostrils flared in agitation below the straight line of his nose, and the intensity in his eyes built. Then, he really obviously shook his head. No, he wouldn't. She had already known, but he was telling her. He wasn't hiding it. Her hands dropped off his chest and she took a breath.

"So. I'm not weak, am I?" she challenged him.

He scoffed. "I've already figured that out."

Part of her didn't truly believe that. But she let that go unchallenged because she wanted to. She began to play it off. "It only took—"

His hand was pressing over her mouth a nanosecond later, stopping the rest. "Shut up, Woman."

Her eyes widened, unsure of what he might do next. He seized up for a moment and she felt it, all through her body because they were so close. But he was turning away from her a moment later.

"I'll be training."

She sputtered, not wanting to be disappointed, and annoyed that she was. "Are you kidding?!" she demanded.

She had just wanted to make a point. And no, she wasn't going to have sex with him …but she hadn't wanted him to leave her here either. But he couldn't be swayed.

"I've told you. Withhold what you like, but I won't stand for your torturous nonsense, little one." His fingers briefly touched her chin in affection.

She glared darkly at him and threw on a shirt. Somehow, he was still bending things to his will and liking.

He watched her longer than usual, like he was looking for something. Then, he sighed. "I will return."

She tamped down the unbearable urge to beg him to stay. She had her pride, and she had to admit that she didn't blame him for leaving. He had also, to her slight annoyance and delight, won major points with her tonight.

Without his audience, Bulma did go to the washroom to prepare to sleep, lost in thoughts of him. And when she opened the door to the bedroom, he was back. Her face broke out into a smile before she could stop it and she put her hands on her hips. "Already done training? That's not like you, Vegeta."

There was a slight flush in his face, but he didn't chicken out either. "I will forgo my training tonight."

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "Really? What brought this—"

"Will you just shut up?!" He spit, losing his temper. "You talk far too much! Just get in the bed and go to sleep!"

She was unbothered by his outburst (they were too commonplace), but it did get her wheels turning. Why was his so intent on remaining when she had driven him away? She tested it further.

"To sleep?"

Vegeta walked away, slamming himself into the washroom without a response. That was always the risk in pushing him. But he was still here. Why was he still here? For some reason, she didn't believe it was him trying to get into her pants. He wouldn't suffer the indignity.

She stared at the door for a moment, going backward in time, until the answer hit her like a ton of bricks.

To sleep.

Her heart rose in her chest toward some indefinable emotion, unwilling to believe it, but knowing exactly why he was still there. The last time he had left her to sleep alone…

She blinked slowly, feeling slightly out of her body as she heard him using the water behind that door and wanting to run to him. But he wouldn't have ever accepted that kind of comfort if she made a melodramatic display. So she laid in bed, waiting for the door to open and for him to get in beside her.

He didn't, at first. He sat in a chair by the large window, staring out while she watched him through slitted eyes. He let her for some time before he looked at her prone form and snorted. "Why bother to pretend, Woman?"

"You're right." She sat up herself, the blanket slipping down her front as she lifted her arm to him. It wouldn't be a big deal to ask. "Can't you come here?"

Her voice was far softer than she planned, and he stood and got into the bed beside her. She latched on to him immediately. He was warm. His chest was the pillow she wanted; she let him believe that this was all for her and he needed to humor her.

But splayed against him, his arm was wrapped around her in a way that she had never known before. He never closed his eyes.

VBVBVBVBVBVBVB

Trunks' musings had preoccupied him too much, because Nappa had managed to pull alongside him, Goku on his back and half-conscious. He was studying Trunks, who felt his cheeks burn.

"What?"

Nappa smirked, and looked away quickly, but Trunks caught something strange in his eyes. Like pride. "Your father will hardly recognize you, boy."

The way Nappa said that sounded complimentary, but he didn't elaborate. The words forced him to consider, for the first time, what Vegeta would think of his "accomplishment" when it came to the Ginyu Force.

I don't care. I don't NEED his approval.

What a joke. Trunks swallowed. His whole life had been built around his father looking for something in Trunks that he hadn't seen, until the night that his mother had been taken away… And that would probably never leave him.

They finally got in sight of the place they had come to with the Dragonballs, and Trunks could see Dende hunched over Krillin, his hands working. Gohan was hovering over them, so absorbed that he hadn't even noticed that his father's ki signature was closing in. Trunks shot a look at Goku to check that he was still breathing. He remembered that his mother said that some internal injuries can get really bad really quickly. He hoped this wasn't one of those times.

Finally, Gohan's gaze turned upward and he met them mid-air. "Dad?!"

"He's alive," Trunks assured him, helping Gohan shift the weight of his father from Nappa's shoulders to his own. "And it's him."

The slightly older boy relaxed significantly and carried Goku to lay him next to Krillin, who appeared to be at the tail-end of his healing.

"Hey, guys." He chuckled in what might have been some self-deprecation. "How did things go?"

"Goku got Captain Ginyu," Trunks announced solemnly. He saw Nappa turn to him out of the corner of his eye and he ignored it. "He …well, he won't be bothering us anymore."

Nappa snorted, unable to help himself. "Please, he just threw a slimy animal at the change beam. The brat did most of the work. And that little turd Guldo was ended by my hand."

"If Goku hadn't have been there, I would have been a goner!" Trunks argued furiously.

"Doesn't matter," Gohan muttered. "I'm just so happy everyone is okay and this whole thing is nearly over."

"Me too," Dende said, sparing some concentration as he shifted towards Goku's body. Krillin sat up and stretched.

"Thanks, man. I feel better than ever!" Dende nodded in appreciation, but didn't tear his gaze from Goku.

"What happened with you guys?" Trunks asked. "The other one?"

"He won't be bothering anyone again either," Gohan answered.

Trunks frowned at the quaver in his voice, but Krillin interrupted. "Sooo …what did Goku do to Captain Ginyu? It sounds like there's a story there."

Trunks turned his attention to the shorter Earthling, nodding. "He tricked me into letting my guard down, thinking I had the upper hand so he could switch with me like he had Goku. But Goku did something pretty brilliant: he threw a frog between us so that Ginyu is probably hopping around somewhere, eating flies."

Gohan and Krillin exchanged looks, and then back at Trunks, before starting to laugh in disbelief. "Nice one, Dad!" Gohan said enthusiastically. "Guess that proves that …you don't necessarily need to have the highest power level to win, huh."

Goku smiled and opened his eyes slightly to look at Trunks. "But you were taking him, buddy. Pretty impressive."

Nappa's face was screwed up in distaste, likely because everyone was patting each other on the back and refusing to take credit. He appeared to find Gohan an easy target, because he grinned at him like a shark. "So how did you kill Recoome? Was it up close and personal?"

"Not right now," Trunks said quickly, before Gohan could even stammer out a response. His gaze fell on Dende. "We need to hear what happened with the last wish, Dende. Did everyone get out okay?"

Dende glanced up, smiling and eyes filled with tears that had Trunks nearly looking away. "It worked out. They're gone. I don't exactly know where, but …I know it's safe, I can feel it. And I got to communicate with Guru before they left."

"Really?" Trunks knew that was probably all Dende had wanted to do before he had made that final wish, despite Trunks' advice. "Did it help?"

The small Namekian nodded with some joy swimming in his eyes. "It helped a lot. Oh, and he left a message for you too. Or I guess it's more of a gift."

"For me?" Trunks echoed, his spirit lifting at the first welcome surprise of the journey.

"Yes, for you, for all that you've done for our people. You saved them and Guru wanted to thank you. He told me that you could 'collect something from the place where you met him.'"

Dende looked so sincere as he spoke, that Trunks felt embarrassed. He shuffled a little on his feet and watched as Dende withdrew his hands from Goku, finished. "I'm honored," he finally settled for saying. "I wish I could thank him."

"Guru wanted you to know that you will always be a friend to Namek, and he hopes that this gift will represent that for you."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's see if you're actually getting something useful so we can finally get off this dull wasteland and back where it's nice and red." Nappa complained, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, let's see what you got!" Goku agreed, as always unable to bear any ill-will. He flexed. "And I feel great! Way stronger than before!"

Trunks too, really wanted to see what Guru had left him. Initially, he had hoped that Guru had changed his mind about helping Trunks reawaken his power, but now he was pretty sure the gift was a physical something. Trunks refused to feel bad about that though, in fact, he was bolstered by the show of faith Guru had in him.

So for once, he forgot about the plentiful other things that needed to be discussed, the plans that needed to be made. He held out his hands to Dende.

"Show me the way."

And with the long-forgotten excitement of a child on Christmas day, he took off flying in the direction of Guru's hideout.

"Wait for us!" Krillin called laughingly, and they must have all taken to the air as well. Trunks did feel good and he knew it wasn't just the gift. Every step now was not filled with uncertainty. Every step he took was one closer to his mother, to prove that she was okay. And he would make sure that she stayed that way, no matter what his father thought.

He had given it some thought, and he hoped he could convince Goku, Gohan, and Krillin to come back with him to Vegeta-sei. And then they could take his mom and return to Earth.

Before all of this, he had wanted to take her back himself and had all but tried to force his dad to give him Mom so they could do just that. But being on Namek made him realize that there was no way he could leave now. There was no way he could pretend that everything was fine, when Frieza and his goons could come after Earth any time they stumbled upon it. He didn't even want that fate to be left for Vegeta-sei, and they were already slaves to Frieza's empire.

It was something as a child that he hadn't understood. Those Imperial Cold uniforms, and all the talk about the fearsome dictator was something that Trunks had never needed to bother with. It was just something else in that long list of things that his father objected to. Now he understood. And he couldn't turn his back.

"Are you in any pain?" Dende asked over the wind beating against their movement. "You're clenching up."

Trunks loosened his hold. "Nah, just some bruises. Not a big deal." He could hear Goku asking an increasingly sullen Gohan endless questions, and something in him did start to ache. Dende lifted his finger to the left. "I see it."

They dropped down to the overlook and Trunks tried not to hurry through the entrance and seem way too eager. After all, he was the only one getting a gift…

Being here was the first time he really understood that the Namekians were gone. The feeling of this room was eerie and empty, like an ancient civilization long-past thriving. He didn't see anything at first, looking around.

But then, something caught in the minimal light, sitting in the enormous chair that Guru had once occupied. Trunks immediately recognized what it was, and that it was for him. Simple design, but sturdy and sharp and above all, dependable.

A sword.