Within a few days Gohan was nearly back to normal, as his body rushed to replace the blood he'd lost. He and Trunks took turns running the ship, which mainly consisted of staring at flickering screens and pacing. The autopilot was apparently functioning well, which, while an uplifting sign, gave them very little in the way of excitement. Trunks could break the monotony by training at high gravity every once in a while, but he insisted that Gohan take it easy while he recovered. Without the physical and psychological release of regular training, Gohan's anger only swelled.

He was still able to stand back from himself and realize that though it seemed justified, the direction it had taken was not. Patiently reminding himself that it was irrational, Gohan would calm down for a while, only to find himself seething several hours later. It was a disturbing trend, but he kept it to himself. He could control it.

Takira's condition had steadily worsened the first few days, and for a brief period it looked as though she would join Goten in the tank, but she was beginning to pull through, and by the second week was even able to get out of bed and walk short distances. Thoroughly tired of the sick ward, she moved into the main quarters with Gohan and Trunks, and spent much of her time there, sleeping.

Trunks was on duty, slouched in the captain's chair, glaring angrily at the notably uninteresting console. It wasn't that he really wished for something to go wrong; he just couldn't take the silence. Worse, he couldn't take the voices and images his mind used to the fill the silence. He heard someone enter the room; he sighed, not bothering to turn around.

"Ah, Gohan, I was beginning to think my shift would never be over." He glanced at the clock: there were still four hours left in his shift. He turned around, smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry, Takira, I thought you were…"

"Apparently. Do you mind if I join you?" she asked, a little breathlessly, leaning heavily on the doorjamb.

"Please, come in, sit down." Trunks waved her in and she collapsed gratefully into the chair next to his. Trunks watched her while she caught her breath. There was something different about her, but he couldn't place it. He found himself thinking back to when Vegeta had kissed her(why that mental picture caused Trunks pain, he wasn't sure), and what he'd said afterwards, about giving something back. What was it?

Takira seemed to notice his scrutiny and shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"I know I look like hell, Trunks, but there's no need to stare."

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to…I was just…" 'Just what? Brilliant, Trunks,' he chastised himself, blushing slightly. With Gohan so edgy, the last thing he needed was to alienate Takira.

"So…how goes it, captain?" she asked, changing the subject. Trunks snorted.

"Oh, quiet, strangely enough. It's only been that way ever since we took off." He was surprised at the irritation in his voice. What had put him in such a bad mood?

"Boring, hm?" Takira replied, eyes flicking around the room. "Well, it can't be any less exciting than the rest of the ship."

"Where's Gohan?"

"Sleeping. He tends to sleep whenever I'm up, I've noticed. I think he's trying to avoid me; can't say I blame him."

"He's probably just tired. He won't admit it, but I think he's still recuperating." Takira shrugged.

"Anyhow, I hate to bother him when he's asleep, so I came to bother you."

"Sound reasoning."

"I'm glad you think so."

"Anything in particular you wanted to talk about?" Takira tensed, her expression strained. She sighed.

"No, nothing in particular."

'Bullshit.' "It doesn't have to be particular. Anything vague?" She held back a few moments more, then spoke quietly.

"Trunks, how am I going to explain it to them? How am I going to face Chichi? How can I look her in the eye and tell her that I killed her son?"

"Takira, you didn't…"

"Stop," she interrupted. "I know this is a point on which we disagree. The fact is it doesn't matter which of us is right. In Chichi's mind, I will have killed Goten; you don't know what that kind of news does to a woman. I'm afraid of what she'll do, but mostly," she whispered, "I'm afraid of Gohan."

"What? He'd never harm you, Takira, you know that. You're a member of his family!"

"That's all well and good to say, but you're thinking far too logically. A broken heart can warp perception to an amazing degree."

"You think I don't know that? You think I don't know what it is to have a broken heart? Am I really so unfeeling to you?" That hurt look crept into his eyes; Takira hated to see it. She looked away.

"You misunderstand me," she said quietly. "I know full well the pain you must suffer now. I mean no insult, but I can tell you truly that it is nothing compared to that of a mother who's lost her child, or a man who has lost his brother. It's the sort of pain that fades but never goes away; you feel it every waking hour, you live it in your dreams. It's not easy to endure, and some people don't. It's nothing they can fight, nothing they can help, but some simply can't take it."

"…and you think Gohan is one of those?" She shook her head.

"I don't know. If I knew for sure I could deal with it, I could form a plan; but I just…don't know." She glanced at the console. "You have the autopilot set? We're returning to Earth?"

"Yes."

"I have to see them again, I have to face up to what's happened, but once that's done…" She bit her lip, stumbling over her words. "I will…I think…I should go."

"Go?" he echoed. "Go where?"

"Somewhere. Anywhere. You have all done so much for me, the least I can do is leave you in peace." Trunks clenched his hands over the armrests of his chair, resisting the sudden impulse to slap her, to shake her until her teeth rattled. A dozen responses came to mind, each leading to the same argument. He shook his head and glared at her.

"You're not going anywhere," he said succinctly. "There's no more to discuss."

"Trunks, I have to…"

"No. I won't argue this. If you want to take it up on appeal, we'll settle it the old-fashioned way, say…a sword fight?" Takira glowered.

"That's not fair."

"Life's not fair, Takira. You, of all people, should know that."

"I knew it a long time ago; so why do I apparently need such frequent reminders?" Trunks smiled grimly.

"Someday you'll admit to owing me for this. Until then, I welcome you to try to beat me." Takira gave him a look that made him think for a moment she might take up his offer. He grinned.

"Otousan was right."

"About what?"

"A lot of things. Mostly that you're cute when you're angry."

"What?!" Damn! What had possessed him to say that? Trunks' mind raced, looking for a way out.

"I suppose he told you to try and sweet-talk your way out of trouble, too. That didn't even work for him." Trunks winced, suddenly seeing an absurd mental picture of his father cowering before this woman. Most of the time she was butch enough to pass as one of the guys, but in certain situations, her sex became apparent.

"Sorry, but you were about to kill me and I couldn't think of a better way to distract you." Takira looked ready to spit. Sighing, she forced herself to relax a bit.

"If you'll excuse me, Trunks, I'm feeling a little dizzy right now. I think I'd better go sleep it off."

"Do you need me to walk you back to your room? I mean, if you're dizzy and all…"

"No," she said, a little more sharply than she'd intended. "I'll be fine, thank you. Enjoy the rest of your watch." She nodded once to him, then turned and left a bit too quickly for someone supposedly unsteady on her feet.

Instead of returning to her quarters, Takira wandered through the corridors. She really didn't feel like sleeping, but she'd needed an excuse to bolt.

'Cute when I'm angry indeed,' she fumed, clenching her teeth. Vegeta had said it to her often enough, just because he knew it got her riled. 'You'd think I'd be used to it by now…' She was distracted from her ranting as she walked by the regen room. The door was opened a crack, despite Gohan's orders that it was to remain locked for the duration of the trip. Takira closed her eyes, feeling out with her mind…an enormous ki loomed just on the other side of the door. Takira tensed and hastily cloaked her own power signal as she recognized it.

"Come in, Takira." The voice was soft, controlled, but with an edge that promised dire consequences if refused. "There's no need to hide."

"Sorry, Gohan," she answered, stepping carefully inside. "It's instinctive: sense a huge power, cloak ki. You know."

"Can't say that I do."

"No, I suppose you don't really have to. There's not much out there for you to be concerned about." Takira struggled to keep her voice normal, as if this were just so much everyday small-talk.

"On the contrary. At the moment, there is a particular matter that causes me a great deal of concern."

"I'm sorry, Gohan; I've said it before. But can't the dragonballs…"

"They can. We can't." Gohan stared at his limply floating brother. "I'm surprised Trunks didn't tell you already. Some time ago it was decided that we were interfering too much in the ways of fate and nature by using the dragonballs to revive the dead. All of us, even those not warriors, took a solemn vow never to use them for that purpose again. Our new credo is to live and let die.

"Goten isn't coming back: not now or ever. Everything his life was, everything it could have been is gone, now. That doesn't faze you, does it? Real Saiyans don't grieve, they're immune to emotions, isn't that right? Let me tell you something. My greatest strength lies in the fact that I'm not a real Saiyan; but then, I'm not quite human, am I?"

Takira watched him, puzzled. He seemed perfectly lucid, but it wasn't like him to ramble like this. What was he getting at?

"Really," Gohan mused, "I have no particular obligation to either race, but somehow I've been charged with protecting both. Then there's you, Takira." She took an involuntary step back as he turned to look at her. "What are you? There's no way you're human, not with that transformation of yours, and yet…not quite Saiyan. You don't really have a species anymore, do you? Nobody out there like you…no race to feel the loss when you die."

Before Takira could react, Gohan's hand closed like an iron vise on her neck.