The task of being self-appointed guardian of a rioting planet was not physically an easy one, but that mattered less to Trunks than its personal benefits. He was rarely home; wouldn't like have been there much anyhow, but he needed this excuse to assuage some of his guilt...only just enough to make it bearable. He'd long given up on such foolish concepts as peace and contentment. So long as the pain was not enough to drive him mad, he was satisfied. He deserved no more...no more, then, he expected.

Earth, it seemed, was willing to provide him ample distractions from any personal matters: not a day passed that didn't bring with it some new stirring of unrest, a sudden upheaval, or a natural disaster striking down the planet's hapless inhabitants. The others--Goten, Krillin, Yamucha--helped where they could, but never with Trunks; it was more efficient, he explained calmly, that he work alone. Goten was the only one who dared take issue with it, and the result was possibly the shortest discussion on record. Thereafter Goten stayed with the rest, and Trunks moved on, alone.

...for the most part.

Goten found him on a mountaintop, sitting perfectly still with one knee clasped in his hands, unzipped jacket scant protection against the wind howling in his face and pulling his hair. Squinting against the gale, Trunks let his eyes shift momentarily to Goten: silent recognition that he was there, but not a welcome. On the other hand, he hadn't shouted at him to go away...

"Trunks?"

"Yes?"

"Mind if I join you?"

After too long a pause: "No. I don't mind." Trunks had yet to turn and look at his friend full-on; Goten decided to excuse it by sitting to the side of him...now they could both stare straight ahead and talk. After several minutes of silence--evidently, Trunks wasn't feeling communicative--Goten decided that a bluntly direct approach was as good as any; he'd never been too skilled at the art of subtlety anyhow.

"So if you have all this time to yourself, why don't you come home?"

Trunks frowned slightly. "What's going wrong at home?"

"Wrong? Well, nothing wrong except the usual stuff..." Goten replied with an odd look. "Why?"

"If nothing's wrong, why do I need to be there?" It was an honest question; after all, too much time spent in his company made people die, apparently...

"Um...because everyone's worried and wondering where you've been? Do you even know how long it's been since you were home last?"

"Three weeks and four days," Trunks answered quietly, his words nearly lost in the wind.

"So you have been keeping track."

Another puzzled frown. "Of course I have. I'd be lax not to."

"Then why haven't you come back?"

"No need." Trunks shrugged, still staring fixedly at some point far from view.

Goten sighed. "Well, Bulma wants to try some new treatment on Gohan and we need you there to help in case anything goes bad." He paused to give Trunks a brief almost-harsh look. "Is that reason enough?"

It took Trunks several moments to determine his answer; after all, the hot spots of the world had to be recalled and prioritized..."Yes, I'll come. Have all the preparations been made?"

"Um...pretty much, yeah, but you don't have to go back right now."

"I don't want to hold things up; if you're joining me, come." Standing smoothly, Trunks shot off in a beeline path for the Capsule Corporation; Goten blinked in the direction he'd gone, then sighed irritably, kicked at an unsuspecting rock and followed at a considerably less efficient pace.

* * * * *

"Why, kaasan?...why did you let me die?" Stumbling over his own viscera, the child reached a bloody hand for Takira. "You promised you'd protect me, momma..."

Even without looking at him, Takira was aware, rocking back and forth and keening.

"I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry..."

"Tell 'tousan that. I don't think he's happy."

Takira flinched as a hard, very familiar voice issued coldly from behind her.

"Trusted you...you swore to protect and honor my bloodline. Now you lose my firstborn, lure my son to you and then lose his child as well?!"

Breathy sobbing marked her halfhearted attempt at response.

"Crying again," Bardock growled. "You'll never learn to be strong, will you? You want to earn that third-class ranking?" A disgusted sigh. "Gods, what a waste..."

"Otousan, please..."

"Shut up," he muttered. "You're no daughter of mine."

"Could be a son, though..." Raditz mused with a smirk. "Certainly aren't built like a proper woman. Kind of funny, you playing whore to half the ship when you barely looked female." Takira jerked her head up, face twisted in a snarl that cracked as she found herself staring down a pair of pained blue eyes.

"You could've told me, Takira," Trunks murmured. "Could have at least mentioned that...that you did that. Didn't I have the right to know?"

"But I'm not...I didn't...it wasn't the same..."

Trunks' eyes hardened a touch. "And what made the rest of your one-night-stands so different? What makes me any more than just another toy you got sick of and threw away?"

"You weren't a--"

"Then WHAT WAS I?!" he shouted suddenly, face furious around tear-washed eyes. Takira clutched her face tightly in her hands, squeezing reddened eyes shut; hurt, it hurt just to look at him...

"You...you were my...my..."

"Oh, stop it," Trunks snapped. "You think you can fool me again? I'm not the blind innocent I was when you met me, Takira: you saw to that. I know better than to listen to the likes of you."

"...don't understand..." Takira choked, clawing at her head in vain attempt to still the screaming.

"I understand plenty. It's not even me I'm upset about, you selfish thing, don't you see? I don't care that you ripped my heart out and handed it to me...but you had no RIGHT--" He paused, breathing heavily and evidently having to exert an immense effort of will not to hit her. At length he continued in a barely-contained hiss. "You had no right in heaven or hell to do what you did to that child. My..." As abruptly as it had changed, his voice cracked, losing its power but none of its pain. "...my child."

Explanations and apologies were proffered, given, thrown, and after a point, shrieked into the unchanging wall of faces--silent, judging. Takira could feel them passing judgment on her, deciding that she wasn't fit for any but the lower hells, and...

'Gods help me I don't want to go to Hell...'

"You are in Hell, idiot," Vegeta spat, stalking over toward her, scowl deepening as she cringed away.

'Please please please I'm sorry I know I'm evil I'm worthless I'm but please just let this stop I can't take it...'

"Takira! Pay attention, woman!"

'Anywhere please gods let me be anywhere but here I can't take--'

A sharp slap brought the wailing Saiyajin to attention; Takira stared blankly for several instants, then cowered as she realized who had slapped her and she was disobeying again couldn't even be a proper subject stupid stupid little girl, what the hell was wrong with--

"Pay attention!" Vegeta snapped, hitting her again, this time hard enough that her vision swam and for a few moments the panic receded merely because her brain couldn't focus that sharply on any one thing. Takira pressed a hand gingerly to her temple, only to have it yanked smartly away as Vegeta jerked on her arm, pulling it nearly out of its socket and hauling her off the spot on which she'd collapsed. Takira gasped and tried frantically to brace herself for the beating of her life...

...and rather abruptly found herself stumbling across neatly kept grass, arm still trapped quite tightly in Vegeta's unbreakable grasp. A squat ape and large insect eyed her as she passed; Vegeta seemed not to care, dragging her up to an igloo-shaped house and throwing her brusquely down at the feet of an admittedly portly deity. Blinking owlishly, Takira remained on the ground, if only because it gave her shorter distance to fall when she got hit again.

"Get up, stupid," Vegeta growled irritably. "It's just a god."

"Ah...yes, sir." Takira stood--well, hunched--warily, casting anxious glances at all around her. Most notable, of course was ouji-sama, and then the god, and his...pets, apparently, and...

There stood Chilli, holding quite still (for intimidation or conservation of energy, it wasn't certain) and taking in the situation with a jaundiced eye. The most effort she could summon for Takira's arrival was a small cold smile.

"Last female of your race," she murmured. "A piece of advice, then: eliminate the rest now, before they become a nuisance."

"It's a bit late for that," Vegeta snorted. Chilli ignored him, still watching Takira with interest and apparently highly amused by her trembling.

"Moreviv's chosen, hmm? Of all the mortals she could have fixated upon..." She chuckled icily, catching Takira's puzzled look. "Don't feel too special, girl...if you're the mistake that brought this on us, you'll be wishing you were ordinarily and unobtrusively dead."