The mid-morning sun shone dazzling light over the treetops. This was one of the few green places left on Earth, one of the few patches of woodland that hadnt been burnt or blasted down when the jinzouningen rampaged over the face of the planet, killing everything in sight. In the nearly four years since young Trunks returned from the past, the scattered survivors of two decades of terror had been slowly rebuilding their lives. One of those survivors lived here, near the clustered treetops and rolling mountains that hid the broken skyline of the old city from view.

Hanging her meager washing to dry in the early summer breeze, ChiChi paused in her work for a moment and looked back at the house Gokou had built for them both to live in. Itd never been attacked by the jinzouningen-- it stood the way Gokou had made it to stand, a cheerful little dome under the high vault of the heavens. It had always been sturdy enough to withstand the normal stresses of the elements; the interior was always cool in the summer, warm in the winter. It was a good home, even if it did seem horribly empty now.

Her sight blurred, and ChiChi buried her face in the sheet shed just hung on the line and let herself cry for a minute. She never let her father see her cry; he was getting so old, and she worked hard to make sure he would be comfortable in his last years. He was inside, sleeping late as hed taken to doing; she was glad he couldnt see her right now.

"Gokou," she sobbed, "Go...Gohan-chan..." Shed done it again this morning--shed made too much rice for just herself and her father. She was just too used to it; Gohan had had such a healthy appetite, just like Gokous...even after almost eight years, she still forgot occasionally and she found herself having to throw out most of what she cooked for the days use. She didnt want her son--her baby--to be dead, and some part of her still couldnt accept it. The sorrow she had carried for so many years, the shattering loss of Gokou--her husband, her love, her whole world--was compounded and sharpened by Gohans horrible death to the point that she could barely stand to be alive anymore. Only caring for her aging father kept her broken heart beating.

She straightened up and wiped her eyes with the corner of the sheet, then picked up the basket of fresh-washed laundry to move farther down the clothesline. A hint of movement over the trees caught her eye, and she looked off to the west. Two specks hung in the sky; as ChiChi watched, she managed to determine that they were actually people, although still too distant to make out any details. Trunks and Juuhachi-gou? I hope so; maybe they can help me get rid of some of the extra food. Trunks-kun has always had a healthy appetite...I cant really say I care much for the jinzouningen, but Im trying so hard to be forgiving, even if she did kill...kill my...She blinked hard to forestall more tears. Bulma had patiently explained, numerous times, that Juuhachi-gou was no longer an enemy and only wanted to make up for what she had done. But can she bring back my Gohan? Can she make Gokou return?--No, Gokou wasnt really her fault, and she was more or less insane when Gohan died...oh no Im not going to cry again!!! She took a deep breath and scrubbed her sleeve across her eyes, looking up to greet her visitors.

She blinked, again and again. At first she thought it must be a trick of the sunlight; then she thought her eyes must have been going bad. Finally, when the pair of too-familiar figures touched down in front of the house, ChiChi was absolutely convinced she had finally, mercifully, taken leave of her senses.

"Ahh...were home!" Son Gokou stood tall in the morning sun, tall and magnificent as hed been in the prime of his youth. The summer breeze stirred his unkempt black hair, tousling it over his wide, cheerful eyes. He looked at the house with a mixture of nostalgia and deep longing. "Its been such a long time..."

"Hai, Otou-san," Gohan agreed. As tall as his father, and nearly as muscular, the younger Son stepped up to stand beside Gokou. "Its good to be home, na?"

"Sou." Gokous eyes swept the yard, finally coming to rest on the woman who stood staring at them in blank disbelief. "ChiChi!" His face broke out into a delighted grin.

To her credit, for once in her life ChiChi didnt faint. "Go...ko...u...???"

Gokou opened his mouth to answer--but his stomach spoke first, growling so loud it almost echoed over the treetops. With a little scowl, Gokou rubbed his midsection. "Anou...ChiChi...are we too early for breakfast? Im starving!"

With a sound that was half laugh, half sob, ChiChi cast her laundry basket aside and ran headlong into her husbands arms, sobbing against his chest.

Gokou, startled, patted her back clumsily. "ChiChi, Im sorry...I didnt mean to hurt your feelings! Do you want us to go out to get something to eat?"

"I think shes glad to see us, Otou-san." Gohan looked at his father with mild reproach. Out of the corner of his mouth he said, "I told you we should have called ahead."

Gokou replied in similar fashion, "Maybe, but I wanted to surprise her!"

"I think we did."

"Gohan-chan!" ChiChi hurled herself at her son, still weeping mightily. "My baby! My baby!!!"

Gohan hugged his mother tightly to him. "I missed you too, Okaa-san," he said softly.

The front window swung open and a large gray-bearded head appeared. "Whats all this noise? Whats going on--GOKOU!!!" The Ox King gaped at the two men in the yard being wept all over, each in turn, by his daughter. "Gokou! Gohan! How in the world--?! Is it really you?"

"Hai, Oo-sama," Gokou grinned, raising his hand in greeting. "ChiChi, its okay, really! Please dont cry anymore...youll make yourself sick if you keep this up!"

The Ox King had lived entirely too long and had seen entirely too many strange things not to take the sudden unexplained resurrection of his son-in-law and grandson in his massive stride. He was surprised--oh, yes, possibly even taken aback--but he held steady, as he always had. "Well, the things that happen these days...! Hurry, boys, bring ChiChi in before she floods the valley."

Gohan nodded. "Come on, Otou-san...lets go inside, hm?"

"Yosh!" Gokou agreed, scooping the weeping ChiChi up in his arms. Struggling for self-control, she clung to him as though afraid he might suddenly vanish. She wiped her tears away with a trembling hand and looked up into a face shed only seen in photographs for twenty long, lonely years.

Gokou smiled down at her, his wide dark eyes tender and loving. It didnt matter at that moment that he was as young and handsome as hed been the last day of his life. It didnt matter that shed gone on aging without him, almost an old woman now, nearly fifty. It didnt even matter that even in her youth shed never been a great beauty--not like Bulma. None of that mattered to Gokou. He looked at her now with the tenderest expression of longing fulfilled, drinking in the sight of her, treasuring her presence as though she were the most precious thing on Earth. He had missed her. That sudden, shocking revelation was almost enough to break her mending heart all over again. She had spent so many years missing him so terribly...it had never once occurred to her that, wherever his restless spirit was, he might be missing her every bit as much. In his eyes, she wasnt an old woman at all. In his eyes, she was beautiful, as in his eyes she had always been. Because he loved her as much as she loved him, and always had, and always would.

"Im hungry," he said softly. "Lets go in and have breakfast, okay?"

Smiling shakily, ChiChi nodded and wrapped her arms securely around his neck. "I think I made just enough this morning."

* * * *

High above the surface of the Earth, at the top of the sky, Dende nodded once, sight beyond sight watching the reunion of the Son family. "The healing continues," he said softly. Thrust unready and unwilling into the role of God for this one small world among many, hed accepted his destiny, as was his nature, but he had never rested easily with it...at least not before now. Now was a time of recovery, of restoration, of reconciliation, and for that Dende was glad.

He sighed and opened his eyes and wondered for a moment what the Elders on New Namek-sei were thinking and doing. Best not to wonder, he supposed; most Namekseijin were born to a single task, their entire being revolving around that singular purpose, never swerving from it. They couldnt conceive of being called upon to do anything different than their lives chosen path. Only a rare few could change course and explore new avenues of thinking, acting, living. The previous Kami had been such a one; Piccolo was one now; and he, Dende....well...uneasy as he felt sometimes, he was still able to carry out the sacred duty of Kami-sama.

"Perhaps, God, it isnt so very different from what you were born to do," a deep voice commented. "You are a healer by nature, and Earth has needed a healing for many years."

"Mr. Popo." Dende turned with a slight smile. "Are my thoughts that transparent, or obtrusive?"

"No, God." The small round black figure smiled a bit. "But I know the doubts you carry about yourself. All of us do. In our own eyes were often not enough to meet a challenge, but really the strength is in us all along." Mr. Popo waved a hand at the small green world below them. "Already youve accomplished more than anyone expected--most of all you."

"Hai, hontou ni. Youre absolutely right." Dende turned to look earthward again. "But theres so much left to be done."

"If there wasnt," Mr. Popo observed, "the worlds wouldnt need guardians. Or great heroes like the Z Senshi."

* * * *

The morning light shining off the white ceiling finally brightened enough to make Bulma groan and turn over in bed. When she did a myriad of small aches and pains coupled with a throb of protest from her arm brought her all the way awake. Blinking, she stared at the cast for a second; then memory slammed into place and she looked to the other side of the mattress.

Empty, but there was an impression of a head still on the pillow, and when she picked it up and brought to her face, inhaled, tears pricked at the back of her eyes. His scent; Vegetas. He had been here last night, his arms drawing her in and wrapping around her as she faded into sleep...

But where was he now?

She looked at the bedside clock and gasped-- it was almost eight in the morning, almost an hour and a half later than she usually slept in. Instantly she got up, staggered a little as her legs wobbled, and found a dressing gown, wrapped it around herself. Now that she was a little more awake, she could hear something from outside; the sound of flesh on flesh, blows exchanged and dodged. Walking to the balcony window, she opened it and looked down.

In the side yard, where her mother had once had a garden, Vegeta and Trunks were sparring. Trunks had his sword out and was lashing at his father, forcing him back. Almost, almost, Bulma called down to them, wanting them to stop before someone got hurt...but she didnt. Instead, she watched quietly. If shed learned nothing else in her life among the Saiyajin, shed learned that fighting was more than a skill or even an art with them. It shaped everything they did, said, felt, thought and believed, one way or another. Theyre bonding, she thought. Finding the common ground where they can meet and understand each other--where Vegeta can accept Trunks as the son hes never known, and Trunks can learn his fathers as mortal and fault-filled as the rest of us... One corner of Bulmas mouth turned up. Okay...maybe Vegeta is overloaded when it comes to faults.

With a blur of speed, Vegeta ran in at Trunks, throwing himself into a slide and passing under an arc of the blade to come up inside the young mans guard. With a snarling laugh he rammed an elbow into Trunks midriff, the other hand grabbing at the hilt of the sword. Trunks grunted and half-crumpled, but doggedly clung to his weapon, bringing a knee up at Vegetas groin. The older Saiyajin sidestepped, but changing stance weakened his grip on the sword, and Trunks wrenched free, jumped backwards. Undeterred, Vegeta shot up into the air, then barreled down at Trunks out of the morning sun. Trunks dove forward into a tuck and roll to avoid the attack and came up, throwing his sword up at the same instant and leaning to let it fall into the sheath as his hands wove a pattern in the air. "BURNING ATTACK!"

Vegeta rolled in midair, the ki blast grazing along his side and scorching through his armor, and thrust his own hands out in a back-and-forth motion, punching the air in front of him. "RENZOKU ENERGY DAAAAN!" Hundreds of small ki shots leapt forward, chewing up the ground around Trunks as he dodged and leapt and rolled to avoid them. Choosing his moment, the Saiyajin prince lunged forward and slammed a fist hard into Trunks stomach, followed with an uppercut that sent the boy skidding along the ground into a chunk of fallen masonry.

As Trunks tried to sit up, a booted foot descended and drove him flat on his back. He looked up into his fathers face, gasping. Vegeta was smirking down at him, arms folded. "Is that the best you can do?" he said mockingly.

By way of answer Trunks grabbed at Vegetas ankle and rolled, summoning his ki as he wrenched Vegeta off balance. Gold fire exploded around him as he tossed the other man to the ground and came to his feet, pouncing at Vegeta, fist cocked back for a punch.

Vegeta also went Super Saiyajin and caught the blow; for a moment the two of them stood there, snarling into each others faces, hands locked as they jockeyed for position and leverage. Then Vegeta fell backwards, hooking one leg around the back of Trunks leg as he did, and flipped his son into the side of Capsule Corporation hard. Bulma winced as she felt the impact through her feet. "More repairs, dammit," she muttered crossly.

As Trunks struggled up out of the wrecked wall he felt a hand catch his shirtfront and haul him out. Panting, he looked at Vegeta, waiting for the next blow.

It didnt fall.

Instead, with a strange care, Vegeta set him on his feet, nodded once. "Youll do," he said. "Kakarotts brat didnt do too bad a job teaching you to fight. Im surprised."

"It wasnt all Gohan-sans doing," Trunks said, wiping the blood from his mouth as he powered down.

One dark eyebrow rose. "Nani?"

For a moment Trunks didnt answer, not knowing quite what to say. "In...the Past Time, where Gokou-san didnt die...I spent a while there. Someone...trained me. In Kami-samas Room of Space and Time. He insisted on it." He looked his father in the eye. "You insisted on it."

The other eyebrow rose. Then a faint smile crept into the Saiyajins eyes. "Did I now," he said softly, voice amused. "Good to see I had enough sense to correct any flaws Kakarotts boy left in your training. Im sure there were plenty." The amusement faded, replaced by a long measuring stare. Finally Vegetas hand rose; hesitated; then came to rest on Trunkss shoulder. "Well, now its my turn to train you, and dont think Ill go easy on you--" his voice lowered until Trunks could barely hear it-- "ore no musuko."

My son.

Trunks fisted both hands, hard, feeling heat come into his eyes and seeing the world mist-waver for a moment as he blinked fiercely. "Hai, Papa," he said, proud of his voice for not shaking. "Ill train hard."

"Youre damn straight you will." Vegeta released his hold and folded his arms, looking up at Trunks. "Every day, first thing in the morning, and every night before you sleep. With and without that pigsticker on your back." One fingertip flicked at the swordhilt. "Weapons can be taken away. Youll learn to rely on your fists and feet first." Turning away, he jerked his head. "Trainings over for now. If she knows whats good for her, that lazy mother of yours will get breakfast ready while we clean up." Vegeta looked up right into Bulmas face and smirked. "Better get started, too, woman. I dont plan to spend all day in the bath."

"And just what do I look like, your servant?" Bulma started to put both hands on her hips, reconsidered, and settled for one.

Vegeta looked her up and down. "Of course youre not my servant. Id never have such a stupid, stubborn, ugly wench serving me. However, since Im stuck with you, I might as well get a decent days work out of your fat butt."

"My...Im....FAT BUTT?!?!" Bulma screamed and grabbed the nearest object (a pot of flowers) and hurled it at the Saiyajins head. He calmly tipped it to one side just enough to let the falling pot miss him without moving from where he was standing. "Your aims no better either, I see," he remarked calmly. "Just as I expected. You never could get anything right."

"OOOooh!" Gritting her teeth, Bulma launched into a litany of the worst abuse she could manage--which was just about enough to take the paint off a battleship at 500 yards. Trunkss eyes got progressively wider as his mothers furious tirade continued, covering Vegeta, his ancestry, his personal qualities, and the interestingly painful things she planned to do to her mate given a reasonable amount of time and the proper equipment (including, but not limited to, fire ants, red-hot pokers, and a good quality kitchen cleaver).

"--And NAIL IT TO THE WALL!" Bulma concluded, shaking a fist at Vegeta.

"Youre wasting time," Vegeta replied, floating up to the balcony to stand at eye level with her. "The longer you stand out here and screech like a harridan, the hungrier I get. Better get moving before I have to...chastise you."

"You and what army?!?"

"I dont need an army to handle you, woman." One hand shot out and cupped Bulmas chin, and before she could react Vegeta had leaned in and closed her mouth with his own. Even from where he stood Trunks could see Bulmas eyes widen in surprise, then slide slowly shut as she returned the kiss. Then he half turned away, trying to give them the moment to themselves, but curiosity won out; a second or two later he glanced back over his shoulder. By this time Vegeta had drawn back and was looking directly into Bulmas eyes, hands resting on the edge of the balcony, face unreadable. Bulmas expression, on the other hand, was full of a shy, delicate wonder that gave her the illusion of being the girl she had been, years ago, when this man first walked into her life. Hes never kissed her like that before, Trunks thought. Not so openly, where anyone could see. I think... I think things are going to be very different in this lifetime, for them both.

With a snort Vegeta broke the tableau by taking Bulmas shoulders, turning her around, and whacking her backside lightly. "Breakfast, woman," he ordered. "Now. Im tired of waiting for your feeble brain to kick in."

"Hmph!" Rubbing where hed swatted, Bulma headed inside to get dressed and go downstairs, pausing at the doorway long enough to fling one final insult before she vanished: "Beast!"

Putting one hand behind his head, Trunks drew a long, long breath. It looks like things are going to get a lot noisier around here, too. "Ah...Papa...does Mamma always carry on like that when youre around?"

Vegeta considered the question. "No. Sometimes shes worse." His lips curled mockingly. "But I always win."

* * * *

"Ahhhhhh!" Gokou leaned back, drew an arm over his mouth, and rubbed his stomach. "Oishii!"

"Hai," Gohan agreed, pushing back from the table himself. "I feel so full, I cant even think about eating!"

"I can," his father answered, then added, "but not any more right now!"

"Youre sure? I can make some more you know. It wont be any problem. I can make you all the food you want!" ChiChi caught herself, shook her head. "Oh, goodness, Im babbling arent I?"

"Just a little, ChiChi." Ox King smiled at his daughter. "But thats okay, you know, this is a very happy day!"

"Its the happiest day of my life..." ChiChi wrapped her arms around one of Gokous and rested her head on his shoulder. He blinked, then smiled and leaned his cheek into her hair.

"What I want to know is how did you two get back?" Ox King continued. "I mean, we heard Piccolo had returned from the dead, but it couldnt have been the Dragon Balls--youve been gone too long."

"Well, Ojii-san, it was Bulma-sans doing mostly," Gohan said. "She had some help from Kami-sama, but without her nothing wouldve come of it. Oh, and, um... Juuhachi-gou... she helped too. I think."

"Bulma... and Juuhachi-gou?" ChiChi straightened, eyes wide. "We heard shed--the jinzouningen, I mean--had come back and was a friend instead of an enemy now... I personally wasnt too sure, mind you, but if you say she helped, Gohan-chan, then--EEE!" Letting go of Gokous arm, ChiChi swatted at her leg, then stopped, reached down and grabbed something. She stared at it for a moment, then shrilled, "G-G-GOKOU!"

"Hm?" The Saiyajin looked down also. "Oh! Hai, gomen ne, ChiChi." Neatly his tail whisked itself out of her grip and curled back around his waist. "I guess its as happy to see you as I am."

"That...was...your...tail," ChiChi forced out, still staring.

"Hai. When we came back, we all had our tails again."

ChiChi reached out, touched the furry length where it lay coiled around her husbands midriff. It unrolled and rose up at her touch, waving gently in the air, and before she could react the very tip end flickered under her chin, tickling it. She gasped, then got a good look at the mischief in Gokous eyes, and laughed. "Oh, Gokou! Youre teasing me!"

"Sukoshi," Gokou admitted, then laughed as well.

"Well, I guess Id better get into the kitchen and start washing up." ChiChi sighed, looking at the sink, piled high with dishes. Somehow, she didnt even mind the mess in there, she decided. Then a second thought occurred and she gasped, one hand covering her mouth. "Whatever am I going to fix for dinner? I dont have nearly enough food in the pantry for all four of us! I need to go shopping right away."

"I can go for you, Okaa-san," Gohan volunteered. "I want to get out and see what everything looks like, anyway."

"Thats a good idea, Gohan," Gokou said, nodding. "Take Oo-sama with you to show you around. Youve still got plenty of money, ne, ChiChi?"

"Hai. I saved every zenni you made from the Budokai. Not that it was ever very much, since somehow things always happened to keep you from getting the winners purse... but never mind, theres still enough left. Hold on, Gohan-chan, Ill get you some." ChiChi bustled off to the front room, where she knelt by the little fireplace and drew out a loosened stone, revealing a small metal box from which she drew a handful of bills. She counted them over carefully and gave half to Gohan. "Now, you know what I need," she said. "I know I can trust you to remember that, Gohan-chan. And you two be careful! Just because that wicked Juunana-gou is gone doesnt mean the roads are safe. Dont talk to strangers and watch out for bandits!"

Gohan smiled at his mother, remembering all the times hed run this very same errand, and all the times shed given him almost the exact same warning. "Hai."

ChiChi stood at the door to watch them off, then turned to find Gokou standing almost directly behind her. "Oh! Gokou, what did you want?"

Gokou didnt say anything at first. Instead, his hands cradled her cheeks and tipped her face up so he could study it. ChiChi swallowed, suddenly nervous, wondering what he was thinking. "Go..Gokou?" she asked softly.

"ChiChi." Gokous eyes crinkled as he grinned. "I need a bath, will you scrub my back?"

"What?"

"Course, I splash a lot, so you might want to change into something that wont get hurt if its wet. Your birthday suit would be okay I think."

"My birthday suit? But, Gokou, thats--" Abruptly ChiChi realized what her husband was really asking, and exactly why hed suggested Gohan take her father along on the trip to town. She promptly blushed clear up to the roots of her hair. "GoKOU! In the middle of the day?!"

"Yeah." In one swift move Gokou picked ChiChi up and headed up the stairs towards the bath.

* * * *

"...A menace! We all know what they did, how they destroyed our world! Look around! Our homes, our families, everything we held special, its all been ruined! How do we know we can trust her? This could all be some kind of trick to take us off our guard..."

Gohan paused outside the grocery store and leaned on the handle of the shopping cart, watching the young dark-haired woman as she alternately pleaded with and lectured the people moving down the sidewalks of New Hope City. Although some stopped to listen, most only gave her a cursory glance, and of those who listened not one seemed to pay her any real heed. As he continued to watch, she sat down dejectedly on a bit of broken stone from one of the buildings and put her face in her hands. When her shoulders started shaking Gohan couldnt bear it any more. "Oo-sama, whos that?" he asked softly. "That girl."

"Hm? Oh, thats Videl. You remember Mr. Satan, dont you?"

"The Worlds Champion? Hai, who wouldnt?"

"Thats his daughter."

"D-D-Daughter?!" Gohans eyes tripled in size momentarily.

The Ox King laughed. "Dont ask me who the poor woman who married him was!" Then he sobered. "Theyre both dead now, from what I hear. Its said he died fighting the androids."

Slowly Gohan nodded. "Would, would you take the groceries to the aircar? I want to talk to her for a minute."

"Of course."

Wandering over, Gohan knelt by Videl. "Uh... o-jama desho ga, demo..."

"Oh!" Videl sat up, hastily wiping her eyes, and glanced at the young man, then looked again. He was about her own age, with a sweet, open face and wise eyes. Something about him was so reassuring, so calming that she immediately relaxed. "Its okay, youre not bothering me." She tilted her head, looking at him. "Im Videl...Do, do I know you?"

"I dont think so." Gohan bobbed a hasty bow. "Please let me introduce myself. Im Gohan, Son Gohan. I couldnt help noticing you looked very sad..."

"Hai." The young woman gave a bitter little laugh. "More discouraged, really. No one will listen to me, and its so frustrating." She slammed her fists down on her knees hard. "No one wants to disagree with their meal ticket--" she jerked her chin in the general direction of Capsule Corporation.

"Meal ticket? I dont understand."

"Bulma." Videl almost made it a curse, then stopped and shook her head. "No, I cant blame her for being taken in too. Its just, I thought, shes so smart and everything, you would think shed understand we cant take that... that things word about anything." She looked at Gohan helplessly. "People around here have a lot to thank her for, and so theyre only too happy to pay attention to what Bulma says, and when someone comes along to contradict her, of course theyre troublemakers."

"Thing..." Gohan glanced in the direction of Capsule Corporation too. "You mean the jinzouningen, Juuhachi-gou?"

"What else?" Videls eyes flashed anger. "That witch killed my father. It and its devil of a brother. Now its living up there. And they dont even mind, Bulma or her son! They even seem to like it!"

"Well, you know, people change," Gohan ventured cautiously.

"Thats just it! The jinzouningens not a person. Its just a clockwork mannequin. Theres nothing real or human about it. How could there be? Look at all the terrible things the jinzouningen did. Wouldnt a human being have had even a little conscience or compassion?" Videl held up her hands. "Nothing stopped them, they cared about nothing and no one. As long as Juuhachi-gous here, were all in danger. Any day now itll drop the act and mow us down like so many blind, trusting rabbits. Gohan-san, you believe me, dont you?"

"I...." Gohan shook his head. "I havent seen her do anything like that."

With a little start Videl drew back. "Youve been around her? A lot?"

"Well, Bulma-san is sort of a family friend. Shes known my Otou-san for a long time."

"Then its useless." Videl turned her face away, but not before Gohan caught a hint of the despair in her eyes. "You really wont listen to me."

"Thats not true! I--" Gohan broke off as the Ox King honked the horn of the car and leaned out, waving, "Oi, Gohan!" he bellowed. "Some of this stuff needs refrigeration, you know! We need to get back before it spoils."

"You go on." Mustering a smile, Videl stood and bowed. "You were nice to me, anyway... arigatou, Gohan-san."

"Listen..." Gohan fidgeted, then burst out, "listen, Videl-chan, Id like to talk to you some more sometime. I promise Ill listen, Im a really good listener."

"Thats a lot of listening you did just now in that last sentence," Videl teased, one brow arching.

Gohan groaned and whapped himself in the forehead with one palm. "Baka na," he growled at himself.

"Gohan-san.... Nanimo. Wakatta." Videls smile brightened a bit as she added, softly, "Id like to talk to you some more too."

"Sou ka?! Yosh!"

"Gohaaaaan!" Another beep of the horn. Gohan impulsively reached out and took Videls hands, held them a second. "Where can I meet you?" he asked.

"Um... oh... I dont know--wait! Youre from around here, ne?" At Gohans nod she added, "Do you remember the old Lion Park? Down near the Orange Star High School?"

"Hai!"

"Well meet there!" Hastily Videl dug around in her pockets, came up with a scrap of paper and scribbled something on it, pushed it into Gohans hands. "This is my phone number--call me and lets work out a day to meet!"

"I will! Oi, oi, Oo-sama, Im coming!" Gohan raced to the car, hopped in, and waved out the side window as they drove away. To her surprise, Videl caught herself waving back... and hoping very much that the young man would keep his word.

* * * *

With a long sigh Bulma stared at the wreck and ruin of the evening meal. One Saiyajin makes a mess. Two make a disaster, she thought wryly. I managed to teach Trunks some manners, but I might as well forget it where Vegetas concerned. She stood, wincing a bit--she was so stiff and sore, and little wonder; Juunana-gou had worked her over pretty well the day before.

"Are you all right?"

Bulma turned and gave the speaker a smile. "A bit more achy than usual, but Ill be fine. Though this arms going to give me twice as much misery from now on when it rains--" she gestured at the cast. "I already had a touch of bursitis in the shoulder." She tipped her head. "Any particular reason you avoided breakfast, or should I ask?"

"Your husband." Juuhachi-gou folded her arms and leaned against the wall. "He doesnt like me."

"Thats an understatement." Bulma shook her head. "Hell get over it."

"Will he, Bulma? Men like Vegeta hold grudges a long time."

Bulmas mouth tightened. "Hell get over it if I have to take a LAW rocket and tattoo the news that youre on our side now on it, then fire it point-blank into his ear."

"Hed probably just complain of a mild earache." The cyborg sighed. "Bursitis, you said? Are you taking anything for it?"

"Not much of anything to take for it, Juu-chan. Just part of growing old." Bulma began gathering the myriad of plates and bowls scattered over the table into neat stacks. "Im in my fifties, you know."

Juuhachi-gou permitted herself a faint smile. "You dont look it."

"Flatterer." The other woman also smiled. "Well, my family has a penchant for looking pretty good as they get older, but its the inside that counts at this point." She slowed and stopped, staring down at the table but not seeing it, a sadness stealing into her expression. "I always wanted a little girl," she said, almost to herself. "A sister for Trunks. He was such a perfect baby."

"Is it too late already?" Juuhachi-gou moved over and began to stack dishes also, watching Bulma as she did.

Bulma nodded slowly. "Hai. About a year, year and a half ago. No more children." Suddenly she sat down. "Weve lost so much time, Juu-chan..." One hand crept up to cover her eyes, hide the moisture gathering there. "It used to be we were a year, maybe two, apart in age. At least thats what we figured out once. Hes about five years older than Gokou, you know, Vegeta is."

"Sou ka?" Juuhachi-gou blinked.

"Hai. Now Im not just old enough to be Trunks mother; Im old enough to be Vegetas mother. How will he deal with it, when... when I really start showing and feeling my age?"

Juuhachi-gou put down the handful of china shed picked up and moved over to put her hands on Bulmas shoulders. "That wont be for several years yet, ne?" she said softly. "Its not as if youre tottering on the edge of the grave. Are you that afraid of growing old, Bulma?"

"N... No..." Bulma looked up, trying to pull herself together. "Just... of growing old before Vegeta does. Half my lifes over already. Ill never have that time back again, never be able to share it with him."

Unseen and unnoticed by either woman, a shadow moved in the hallway. Drawing back from the edge of the door, Vegeta scowled. Hed felt the jinzouningens presence in the dining area after he and Trunks had departed, and had sent the boy off on some pretext while he circled round to watch her. Hed half hoped she would try something with Bulma so he would have a ready excuse to kill her, but she wasnt harming his mate... for now anyway... so hed dismissed the pleasant idea of dismantling the wind-up toy till another day.

It was the subject of conversation that held his full attention now. What did Bulma mean, half her life was over? The scowl turned more thoughtful as Vegeta remembered Kamesennin making remarks about being a frail old man. Was that what age meant to humans? Saiyajin didnt become weaker as their years advanced; those who outlived their enemies usually just stopped breathing in their sleep one day when their lives were done. But this age business, now...

Would that, was that, happening to Bulma now?

He growled softly under his breath, irritated (and, on some deeper level that he wouldnt admit but had to acknowledge, worried). One more damn thing humans cant get right. What complete and monumental idiot thought it made sense for them to wither away with the years? I wont have it. I didnt suffer through a decade in Hell without a body, then put up with Kakarott in Heaven for another decade, just to have Bulma dry up and blow away on me. I refuse to let it happen. There must be a solution, somewhere, if I have to beat it out of Kaiou-sama or Kami-sama or Enma-sama themselves.

Turning on his heel, Vegeta paced away.

* * * *

Somewhere beyond space and time, something stirred.

It had only a shadow of form, no real substance at all; nothing but will. Yet, even without a body, burning eyes studied a tall cliff with a thin cleft down the middle, currently being watched by two horned figures.

For years it no longer remembered itd sought a way out of its current imprisonment, striving to return to the material world. There was so much left unfinished... destinys cruelty couldnt be forgiven or forgotten. Not even Hell could banish those memories.

Itd despaired of ever leaving until one day itd overheard two oni talking, discussing a mortal, a soul that had fallen into Hell and escaped again. How, they didnt say, but the mere idea had sparked a savage hope. Over time without time information had been gathered, stories sifted through and rejected, until finally, finally...

No prayers; the heavens had rejected its prayers once. Only patience.

"So whats the word from up top?" one oni asked, scratching his arm idly and letting his club drop to the ground.

"Enma-samas finally getting his backlog of souls from Chikyu cleared up a little, my cousin says," the other oni answered. "Though I hear its still standing room only in the Palace."

"About time! Things are so crowded down here already its a wonder we can keep our eyes on everything." The oni paused, glared over at a small group of drifting clouds that were squeaking among themselves. "Hey, you losers! Move on! This is Hell, not a holiday tour!"

The clouds--in reality, souls--drew back a bit, one smaller one nudging into a larger one. The larger squeaked more loudly and promptly launched itself at the smaller. A furious tussle broke out, with the two souls rapidly joined by more, seemingly from nowhere, until half the air seemed filled with furiously roiling spirits.

"Hey! Cut that out! Ah, look at that, we better go break this up!"

"Wait a second, wait a second, Enma-sama told us to guard this passage back up to his antechamber--"

"He also told us to keep things orderly and calm down here. YOU want to explain to him why we let a riot go on?"

As the oni argued, the watcher slipped from its hiding place and shot silent and low over the ground, flattened as much as possible for concealment. It reached the crack and darted in, never slowing. The others had bought it the time it needed. Everything else was up to it.

This time, nothing would stand in its way.

Nothing.

The ruined streets stretched out in all directions, a maze without end or beginning. He wandered down them, looking, listening. Nothing moved but papers in the wind.

Where were all the people?

A few spatters of rain gusted down; he ignored them. There was a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach as every sense told him he was alone.

Where were all the people?!

As he rounded a corner, a splash of color against the gray rubble, brilliant, fresh... red.

Blood red.

He sprinted forward and knelt to touch the wet crimson blotch, felt its slippery stickiness on his fingers. The dread inside became a fist, clenching on his heart. "Is anyone here?" he shouted. "Oi! Please, answer me!"

No answer. Standing, he looked around, saw another patch of blood, and another... and another... leading to a crumpled form on the sidewalk. He ran to it, turned it over.

Piccolo.

Beyond that, a form draped over a shattered lamppost: Vegeta.

Impaled on the broken glass of a storefront window: Bulma.

Lying on his back, sightlessly staring up into the gathering clouds: Trunks.

Half crushed under a chunk of masonry: ChiChi.

And in the middle of the street, with a hole where his heart had been... Gokou.

Slowly Gohan turned in a circle, eyes taking in the horror even as his soul screamed in protest. "No," he choked, falling to his knees beside Trunks. The thirteen-year-olds eyes accused him wordlessly: where were you, Gohan-san? Why didnt you help us?

"Welcome home."

In one motion Gohan was on his feet, whirling to face the speaker. She smiled and stepped off the rooftop, smoothing her blonde hair back as she drifted to the ground. "Juu... Juuhachi-gou..." he stammered.

"Sorry I left you out." The cyborg waved a negligent hand at the bodies. "If youd been here earlier, you couldve taken your place with them. As it is, Im afraid Ill just have to kill you all by yourself." She smiled. "You really didnt believe me when I said Id changed, did you? Machines dont have consciences, Gohan-san. And Im Dr. Geros best model." She made a face, looking at Trunks. "Though its a pity-- hes a cute little boy, he wouldve been bishonen when he finished growing up."

With a howl of rage, tears half-blinding him, Gohan raised his hands, cupping them to focus his will for a Kamehameha that would take that horrible, poison-sweet look off the jinzouningens face forever.

But though he felt both hands there... only one appeared.

Nothing but an empty sleeve flapped on the other side.

Stunned, Gohan clutched at his shoulder, feeling the stump where his arm had been blasted away, and turned to Juuhachi-gou. "Doush'te?" he screamed. "WHY?!"

"Silly." Juuhachi-gou giggled and leveled an arm at him. "Because Videl was right."

The light leapt at him, tearing into him, searing white pain everywhere--

Gohan sat up in bed, both hands slamming over his mouth to hold in a shout, a cold sweat making him shudder in the early morning breeze from the open window. For a moment he had no idea where he was--how had he gotten inside from the street? Who had brought him inside, when everyone was dead?

Hands. Hands over his mouth.

Slowly he removed them, glanced from one to the other. Both his. Swallowing, he collapsed back against the pillows, dragged an arm over his forehead. A dream, a nightmare. That was all.

(Because Videl was right)

"I guess part of me does believe her," he whispered aloud. Suddenly his bedroom seemed too close, almost stifling. Throwing off the bedcovers, Gohan moved over to his writing desk, scribbled a hasty note: Gone for a walk. Couldnt sleep. Back soon and taped it to his pillow, then pulled on his gi and stepped out the window.

The sky was still mostly dark, but towards the east a soft gold light had begun to bleach a blue streak across the night. Gohan flew slowly along, letting the wind whip the last tatters of the dream from his mind.

A smile spread across his face. It leaves someone I trust with my life. Pausing in mid-flight, Gohan closed his eyes and reached out, feeling for one particular spirit among the many scattered over the face of the planet. It wasnt hard to find the one he sought; almost as soon as he reached out, he felt someone reaching back, answering his call before it had time to grow a second old. He turned and headed in that direction at his best speed.

Over the mountains Gohan slowed, coming to a stop beside a figure sitting cross-legged in the air, arms folded, eyes closed, head lowered slightly. "Piccolo-san," he said softly.

"Gohan." The Namekseijin opened his eyes and fixed a piercing gaze on the young man. "Youre up early."

"Anou...I... I couldnt sleep."

"Mm." Piccolo mulled that over, then shook his head. "Come on, kid. Spill it. Whats the real reason youre out here?"

"Its that plain?"

"You might as well be wearing a sign: Piccolo, Ive got a problem. Please fix?"

Gohan laughed. "You always did know me better than I knew myself." He also sat on nothing and stared down at the ground far below. "Its Juuhachi-gou," he said finally. "Piccolo-san... how can we know? I mean, how can we really trust her after all the things thatve happened?"

"Oh, hes asking me, the Demon King, who can be trusted."

"Piccolo-san! You gave that up a long time ago. Besides, that was the you before you...I think...you know, I never really understood that--"

"Never mind," interrupted Piccolo. "Were talking about the jinzouningen, not me."

"Hai."

Piccolo turned to look at Gohan, and something in his expression softened, as it did for no other living being in all the universe. "Bad dream, I take it. Shook you up pretty bad, huh?" he murmured.

Gohan nodded slowly.

"Okay. On the level now. If youre worried about Juuhachi-gou, dont. Take it from me, theres no evil in her. Never was, really. But the feel of hers different now."

"How can you say she wasnt evil?!"

"Is a rock evil, Gohan?"

"Nani?"

"Answer the question." Piccolo leaned over and thwapped Gohan solidly across the back of the head, hard enough to rock him forward a bit but nowhere near harming him.

"Um...." Gohan frowned. "No."

"Not even when it falls on you and crushes your foot?"

"No, thats just the way its..." the young man trailed off. "Ahhh..."

"Now youve got the idea." Piccolo nodded. "The Artificial Humans were created to do what they did. Thats the way they were."

"Wakatta." Gohan chewed his lower lip. "They werent given a choice between doing right and wrong. To them, anything they did was right, and anyone trying to stop them was wrong, because thats the only reference they had, the only life and purpose they knew. But now, now Juuhachi-gou-san knows the human ideas of right and wrong, good and evil, is that it?"

"Right." The Namekseijin smirked. "About time. Youve got a better brain than your dads, Gohan, you shouldve picked up on that one right away."

Gohan laughed again, then nodded respectfully.

"Youre probably still pretty wired. Felt like you were about two heartbeats from Super Saiyajin a little while ago--mustve been when you first woke up. Why dont you settle down somewhere quiet and meditate for a while to get yourself calm, then head on back to bed?"

"Ill do that, Piccolo-san." Gohan nodded, paused. "Sankyuu..."

"Go on, get out of here, Im tired of seeing your face." But the corners of the Namkese-jins mouth were turning up fractionally even as he said the harsh words, and Gohan smiled back, waved, and flew away.

Somewhere over the mountains close to home Gohan stopped, lowered himself to a ledge, and closed his eyes, tucking his legs up under him. He concentrated first on his breathing, making it slow and even, paying attention to its rhythm. Bit by bit the tension drained out of him and his mind became an empty pool, undisturbed by the outside world, focussed entirely on the inner calm he sought.

As he let his thoughts drift, Gohan felt something brush across them, like a breeze. Startled, he opened his eyes, not recognizing the touch, and found himself surrounded by a mist that eddied and swirled against the sky like something alive.

No, not like something alive--it was alive--

In a heartbeat of time the cloud closed on him, and simultaneously Gohan convulsed, a cry choked off in his throat before it began. After a few moments, the violent trembling stopped and the young mans body relaxed, then righted itself. The dark eyes opened and scanned the world around him as a slow, triumphant smile crossed the Saiyajins features.

Gohans body, Gohans eyes... but not Gohan.