Save me from darkness    3. Vegeta yawned as he stood over the cot that his youngest child slept in, his index finger being offered toward the akachan. Unfortunately there were only two things a baby Saiya-jin would eat until the age of fifteen months. One would be milk produced by its mother and since he was only equipped for bearing and making brats, he could not produce milk. The second edible substance was blood which the baby could get by using its small yet sharp teeth to pierce its ‘mothers’ skin and suckle until full. Vegeta actually preferred it this way. Anything was better than him having to grow breasts. His tail jerked slightly at that unholy thought before a sharp pain made itself known. “Hungry little pest” he whispered with feigned grumpiness whilst Geta made cute little growls and mews of contentment as he continued to lick at the crimson liquid. The Ouji couldn’t help but smile when the chibi grasped his finger with two tiny hands and pushed it farther into his eager mouth. The sound of a door opening caught his attention and the oldest living Saiya-jin who didn’t look a day over thirty turned to see who it was. A small gasp of relief escaped him when he found it to be Dende. The Namek-jin smiled warmly at the Saiya-jin whom he’d got to know quite well over the last seven years. “You shouldn’t have come” Vegeta stated worriedly. “You were unconscious for two days the last time Brolie found you here without permission” he added. The ex-Kami walked over to him, a sad gleam in his eyes. The once proud, in you’re face warrior was now a shadow of his former self and it saddened him greatly to see how jumpy the shorter male was. Not that he blamed the now mother of three. Brolie had a terrible temper if displeased and would often take it out on his mate if no one else was available. “Don’t worry” he assured the kimono wearing male with an akachan in his arms. “Mr Popo is keeping him busy with tucking the children into bed” he whispered whilst keeping his distance. Both knew what would happen if Dende’s scent were found on the shorter Saiya-jin. “I’m here to pass on a message” he stated quietly. “Trunks and the others are leaving to get help, so we must keep Brolie here until they return”. Vegeta blinked, his tail twitching nervously. “Oh gods” he breathed quietly. “If they found somewhere to escape to they should just stay there, this world is as damned as I am” he said more to himself than Dende. The Namek-jin frowned at the other mans words, it appeared that he had lost all hope. Hope, he had to admit that even he had forgotten the meaning of the word. The green man sighed before turning to leave. “Good night” he said firmly whilst he turned to the doorway. The Ouji nodded to him before concentrating on the wiggling baby as the feeding session ended. Vegeta then burped his youngest son before lowering the tiny, contented body back into the plush, cushioned cradle and pulled the warm blankets over him. ‘Good’ the Saiya-jin thought. ‘There is nothing good about this’.    Eighteen years old. Kami his daughter deserved so much more at this age. Pan should be out with friends, starting college and living life to the fullest. Sadly this was not the case. The dark haired warrior had spent the vast majority of her life fighting and/or running, like they all had to and Gohan felt incredibly sorry for that. Even if they could kill Brolie that didn’t promise a better life afterwards. Living conditions would certainly be improved when the maniac was finally dead but they would never return to the way they were before. The oldest hybrid of forty one years sighed and placed the last component into the wrist band Trunks and Bra had designed. Then with a yawn the youthful looking warrior stretched and looked over to the bed where his daughter slept and then to his own. Kami he was lonely. It seemed hard to believe that he’d lived without his parents and Videl for seven long years. What hurt the most was not being able to use the dragon balls to revive them. He supposed he and the others had all grown dependant upon the seven mystic orbs that now only Brolie could use. ‘One day soon you insane bastard you’ll die, immortal or not, we’ll find a way’ he promised. ‘And this time you’ll stay dead!’.      Trunks floated outside the window where he sensed the only conscious energy, his lavender brows furrowed before tapping the glass lightly. A startled Gohan abruptly stood and spun to glare at the window before his facial features relaxed into an uneasy smile. The man whom had acted like a Father toward them all then approached the glass pane and opened it wide enough for the younger fighter to enter. The dark haired male then noticed the bag that the lavender haired warrior had slung over his shoulder. “The dragon balls” he whispered. Trunks nodded. “His ‘Lordship’ wanted them but we’re taking them with us so he can’t use them, even though they’re useless to us’ the young man said grimly. “And we’re leaving right now” he added bluntly. Gohan blinked as the noise of Pan turning over within her covers filled the room. “But its two o’clock in the morning, every ones sleeping” the older, paler man reasoned. A knowing smirk crossed the younger beings lips. “Isn’t this the perfect time though?” he asked. “Think about it, Brolie’s probably...” Trunks let the sentence hang as his smirk fell. “He should be too preoccupied to check on our ki signatures, so he shouldn’t know we’ve left until tomorrow”. A sudden movement to their right signalled the waking of the youngest hybrid whom blinked sleepy dark eyes up at her Father and secret crush. If only Trunks wasn’t so obsessed with rebelling, training and scheming. But she couldn’t blame the older man. Maybe when this whole thing was over she’d make her move. “What’s going on?” she asked quietly. “Go get Goten and Bra up, we’re leaving and we’re leaving now” Gohan stated. Knowing that her only surviving parent was serious she jumped out of bed, picked up her chest armour then headed toward the door of the lab she and her Father shared. The oldest then turned to his friend with a faint smile on his face before putting the extra wrist bands into the utility belt that hugged his blue spandex clad form. Trunks on the other hand was fitting one of the bands onto his wrist and checking the coordinates. He just hoped the schematics he and Bra drew up were correct. If not they could end up in the wrong time or be torn apart or... ‘No’ he mentally scolded. ‘This will work, I haven’t worked all these years for this to fail, I made a promise to Mama, I can’t break it! I won’t!’. Back