Trunks was pacing again when he felt an inexplicable jolt of fear. He wasn't in danger and could neither see nor hear anything out of the ordinary, but something, he knew, was terribly wrong. He was running down the hall before he could so much as think about it, turning a corner to see Takira and Gohan come flying out of the regen room to slam against the wall. Rage contorted Gohan's face as he slowly drew his fist tighter. Takira thrashed helplessly in his grasp.

"Gohan, no!" Trunks lunged for Gohan. Gohan struck quickly, kicking Trunks in the stomach and nearly breaking his jaw with an uppercut without losing his grip on Takira. Trunks stumbled back with a cry of pain, and somehow that penetrated Gohan's fury. Suddenly motionless, he stared disbelieving at Trunks, as the younger warrior caught his breath and straightened, wincing. Trunks looked him straight in the eye, his own blue eyes betraying pain, anger, and more than a little fear.

"Let her go, Gohan," he said softly. "She's not responsible and you know it." Gohan's fingers clenched in frantic spasms.

"She…she killed…she…" he stuttered, shaking his head violently as he struggled. With a roar, he threw her aside, refusing to look as she scrambled to her feet. Gohan looked to Trunks in utter desperation.

"I'm sorry, I didn't…Trunks, I can't explain it, but that wasn't me. I…" His gaze fell to the floor and he leaned against the wall, suddenly weary. "I can control it, I swear, I just…"

"It's all right," Takira murmured. "I understand. I'll try to stay out of your way, okay?" Gohan nodded with a shaky sigh, looking for all the world like he would collapse at any moment. Trunks stepped forward cautiously, offering a supporting arm. Gohan took it gratefully, and Trunks led him past Takira, back to his quarters. In an instant Gohan whirled, plunging a fist into Takira's face, sending her skidding down the hall. Trunks grabbed him by the arm, struggling to hold him back. Gohan shuddered and dropped to his knees, hissing an incoherent stream of curses under his breath. Trunks leaned closer to him.

"Gohan, what's wrong? Is there anything I can do?" Pain lined Gohan's face as he returned Trunks' worried stare. His breath came in shallow wheezes.

"Kill…me," he whispered.

"No."

"Please. Before I…before…"

"No, Gohan. I'd do anything for you, anything but that. Come with me to the medical wing and we'll see what we can arrange until we get you home to proper care." Gohan sighed.

"No good. I'm…a liability, Trunks. If I kill her…"

"You won't. Even if I have to put you on every tranquilizer we have on this ship, we'll find a way to work it out. Don't you worry." He helped Gohan to his feet and lead him in a circuitous route to the med. wing to avoid coming near Takira, who was still unconscious on the floor. Heavily sedated, Gohan was left locked in the sick ward, and Takira was returned to her quarters to recuperate; Trunks slept on the couch in her room, just in case. It had been a long time since Trunks had felt the need to sleep with his sword drawn; the thought that the blade might by directed at his friend and mentor was deeply troubling. Soul-sick with emotions he couldn't identify, Trunks finally fell into a fitful slumber.

* * * * *

Bulma skittered about the lab, checking and rechecking the readouts to reassure herself of what she already knew. They were coming. They'd be here any minute.

She eyed the computer's estimate for their arrival time, her stomach churning. This was not the usual welcome home for Earth's strongest force. This time, there were casualties. Any joy would be severely dampened by Goten's death, and any happiness, tinged with fear over Gohan.

Bulma lit another cigarette, nearly burning her shaking fingers. They'd finally gotten the communications link up, but she couldn't help wondering if they'd have been better off without it. While overjoyed to be able to speak with her son, Bulma was frankly unsettled by the things he'd told her. If all he said were true, then Gohan was in dire straits, emotionally, and they couldn't afford to lose him. Chichi needed him now more than ever.

Bulma could hear Chichi weeping outside, at the landing pad. Videl and Pan stood with her, offering their moral support in place of meaningless condolences. Chichi had done her best to prepare herself for what lay ahead, but as the moment drew ever closer, she was degenerating into a grief-stricken wreck. Bulma could hardly blame her; she closed her eyes and prayed silently for Chichi. If anything had happened to Trunks…Bulma shook her head. She'd die. It was that simple. Just the thought was enough to bring her to tears.

Yamcha entered the room and lightly placed a hand on her back.

"Krillin and Juuhachigou are here; they left Marron with Master Roshi at the Kame House. You know, just in case…" Bulma nodded and glanced at her screen.

"Less than a minute to go, unless something went wrong," she announced. "Come on." She and Yamcha joined the huddled group of spectators. Suddenly Krillin jumped and looked off into the distance.

"That power level…who is it?"

"More trouble?" Yamcha guessed, dropping into a defensive stance. Juuhachigou squinted in the direction they were looking, then sighed and relaxed.

"Never thought I'd be glad to see that one," she murmured. Krillin and Yamcha breathed their own sighs of relief as they recognized the interloper. A moment later, Piccolo landed lightly in front of them, looking even less pleasant than usual.

"Something's wrong with Gohan," he said shortly. The others only nodded. There was no time to explain the details; Piccolo would find out soon enough. Wind whipped his cape as the Capsule Corp pod touched down. All held their breath as the hatch creaked open, revealing two figures in the entryway.

No hearty cheers or wild shouts greeted Trunks and Gohan as they stepped out, but there was no doubt they were welcome. Bulma grabbed Trunks in a fierce hug, soon joined by Bra. Gohan smiled weakly at Piccolo and hurried to his mother, wife and child, embracing them gently. Krillin and Juuhachigou drew each other closer, as though just the thought of others' loss made them somehow insecure. Yamcha stood on the periphery, feeling every inch an outsider.

At last Chichi forced herself to release her grip on Gohan long enough to look up at him, her lower lip trembling.

"Is…is Goten…"

"He's inside."

"There's no need to go in, Chichi," Yamcha said gently. "Bulma and I will take care of all that needs to be done here. The…the service will take place tomorrow." Chichi nodded tearfully, clinging to Gohan again. At length, the family group departed to deal with their grief alone. Piccolo gave an unreadable grunt and disappeared. With one last check to be sure they were gone, Trunks turned back to the pod.

"All clear, Takira, you can come out now." Trunks watched the group's reaction; even after it had become apparent, he had neglected to tell them of the change Vegeta had wrought in Takira. He smiled at the collective gasp as she stepped out.

Yamcha's first impression was that overall she looked fine; a little thin, a little pale, and her hair was messed up. No, just bushy, actually, almost…spiky. 'Wait a minute, since when did she wear a furry belt…'

"Dear kami," he breathed. "She's a Saiyan!"

"Takira, how…" Bulma began, but Takira cut her off.

"Later." Bulma backed off and announced that any questions could certainly wait until tomorrow. The sunset gleamed luridly on the surface of the pod as Krillin and Juuhachigou departed, and the oddly-assembled "family" left over returned to Capsule Corp to sleep.

* * * * *

Trunks tossed his scabbard and jacket onto a nearby chair as he entered his room, locking the door behind him. It was about time he got a good night's rest…he was about to change when a streak of light outside caught his attention. He glanced out the window and frowned.

'Takira? Where's she going at this hour?' As stealthily as he could, Trunks slipped out the window and followed her at a respectful distance.

Takira flew down into what she'd dubbed Trunks' Forest, savoring the shadows and especially the stillness. The air was slightly damp, but she didn't mind; it was only for a night. She just couldn't trust herself to be near Trunks right now. With a heavy sigh, she leaned back against a tree trunk, drinking in the starlight and solitude, until she realized she wasn't alone.

'Shit, no, not now, not tonight! Trunks, you don't know what you're getting into!' Of course she couldn't expect him to know the first thing about Saiyan females and their chemistry, but it was a damnable coincidence that he chose this night to follow her. His black shirt and pants blended with the night as he took a cautious step closer.

"Takira?"

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." 'Go away, go away, for your own sake…'

"You don't have to hide here, you know. I don't think Gohan would come to Capsule Corp to get you."

"I know." 'It's you I'm hiding from, Trunks.'

"Then why are you out here?"

"Just getting away from it all, I guess." 'Oh, kami, it's starting. Trunks, I can't help it, run!'

"Do you want me to leave?"

'Yes! Go!'

"No, you don't have to." He stepped forward again, stopping a mere hand's breadth from her, the starlight playing across his hair.

"Then I won't. No one should have to be alone on a night like this." He looked at her curiously, then hesitantly laid a hand on her shoulder. "Especially you."

'Shit, shit, shit!' Takira could no longer fight.

"What about you?" She reached up and slowly traced a finger down Trunks' chest; he shivered, and she smiled.

"Cold?"

"Not really," he whispered roughly, pulling her closer. She wrapped her arms around him; he felt something wiry at his waist and let out a startled yip before realizing it was just her tail. He grinned down at her as she wound her fingers through his hair.

"Glad you have your tail back?" The tail slid lower in response, coiling around his leg. Around a coy smile she murmured:

"Are you?"

Her simple question provoked a surprisingly thorough response.