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Vegeta followed the brat through the village to a temple against the mountain. He could have flown there faster, but the brat didn't seem to be interested in flying. "You said she was gone. How can I defeat her then?" Vegeta asked him now that his head was a bit more cleared.

Trunks sighed and a pained look crossed his face. "She's not really gone. In fact, she's still here. It's just that she's living in another state, another dimension I guess you could say."

Another dimension? Vegeta scowled. "What makes you think that your mother will be able to fight me? Sounds like she's insane to me."

"She's far from insane." Trunks said pointedly.

There was a long period of silence as they walked the last trek of the journey. As they reached the temple doors, Trunks turned to Vegeta. "You know, she loved you. Even though you hurt her, she couldn't stop herself. And even now she cannot. Her only release will be her death, and the only way you can defeat her is by killing her." Trunks swallowed hard. "From here you go on your own. Once you enter the temple you will not be able to leave until one or both of you are dead." Trunks started walking down the road again.

Vegeta stared at the doors, completely perplexed. This was getting to be a little unnerving. He felt like he was living in a cloud, a thick misty fog that settled itself before and behind him so that it made his past and future obscure. He agreed to this game because he had nothing better to do-- "you keep telling yourself that," the voice in his head said-- but now he felt that this was going to be a critical point in his life. No turning back after this. He knew he was going to have to do or die now. Nothing seemed certain, like the rest of his life was hinged on this moment.

Vegeta shook his head and grabbed the door handle. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside.

And . . . nothing. He was in a room. The air was a bit oppressive, but nothing he couldn't handle. He walked forward, his gold-tipped boots clicking on the floor. The balcony doors were open, displaying a brilliant night sky. Fire torches burned steadily at strategic points of the room, lighting the room but still giving it a gloomy atmosphere. The feeling of the room was hollow, dead.

Vegeta took a deep breath. He had been here before. This was the royal chambers of the palace. The pictures were exactly the same as he remembered them, except there was one more picture that hadn't been there before; it was a picture of the woman and Trunks. They smiled back at him happily, but there was no joy in them. The woman seemed a bit more so sadder than the brat. There was a big space left in the canvas.

"That's where you were suppose to be," a voice said quietly from the doorway of the bed chambers.

Vegeta spun and his breath was caught in his throat.

She smiled faintly and walked to him, standing before him quietly. She looked him over. "It's been a long time," she said softly.

"I was under the impression that the Earth had exploded," he said.

"Kane's doing. Certainly fooled you."

"And my scientists for 18 years." He saw a shock flicker across her face. "Didn't know it was that long," he stated to her.

She frowned. "No. Kane took off the cloaking about two months later. Kakkarot said that's about how long it would take you to get back to Vegetasei. By then we would hopefully have a big enough resistance if you came again."

Vegeta snorted. "Kakkarot. So easily he was taken by you people." He crossed his arms.

"He loves Chichi."

"Love?" Vegeta exclaimed. "Saiyan's are not capable of love."

"I suppose that's why I meant nothing to you, that's why you left without so much as a look back." she snapped at him.

"D-damn right." he stuttered. Her words had stung him. He didn't know he'd meant that much to her.

She lifted her hands as if to embrace him. "You came here to kill me, so kill me." She stared him straight in the eye, ready to take the killing blow.

Vegeta lifted his, his thumb tucked inside and a ki ball forming. Her eyes never wavered. They were dead locked for a few tense moments, and then he lowered his hand. He turned his head away from her, his arms held tightly at his sides, ashamed. He couldn't do it. Damn it! He couldn't do it! She had been in his thoughts constantly since that night on the volcano, haunting him. He had dreamed of finally killing her, getting rid of her hold over him. But who was he kidding: he was attached to her. She was the only person who accepted him for what he was. A revelation hit him then: he had become just like his father. In his quest to get rid of his father, to end the hatred and pain that had started with his father, he had become the man he didn't want to become. He had become a blood-thirsty killer who shunned anyone who had a true interest in him, anyone who showed that they cared at all. He had become his father and she had become him, the big difference being that if he didn't want to love her than he would have to kill her. She couldn't kill him.

"No no no." he said, shaking his head with his hands pressed at his temples. He crumpled to the floor.

He had become the monster he so detested. How could he? How could he become what he so wanted to get rid of? His body rocked back and forth as the questions raced through his mind. He felt her hesitantly slip her arms around him and lay her head on his chest. He fell back upon her, turning so he could encircle her waist. He cried then, the tears streaming down his face and soaking her clothes. She ran a hand down his back in soothing motions. He told her about his father, about the pain he felt and the hatred. She listened patiently as he unraveled his life before her.

"I have become the man that I so detested," he said bitterly. "I have hurt . . . hurt the only one who really understood, really accepted me." He locked his eyes on her. "I hurt you."

Now tears were flowing down her face. She cradled his face in her hands and kissed him softly. He kissed her back hesitantly, but then forcefully. He felt her hot tears against his own face. He pulled away and whiped her tears away with his gloves. She smiled at him wistfully, and turned her gaze away. She was different now, older, but she was still his and he could see it in her eyes. And he realized that he was hers, all these years, though he'd denied it to himself and anyone else who'd questioned him.

He stood and extended his hand to hers. She took it gracefully and tucked her arm in his as they walked to the balcony. "I have lost," he said to her. It was such an odd thing for him to say, and he was surprised he wasn't ranting about it.

She smirked. "Lost what?"

"This planet. I haven't defeated you; you defeated me," he said, swallowing hard.

She smiled. "You've been talking to Trunks."

"Yeah," he muttered.

"He believes in me too much. I suppose he said he'd give you the world if you could defeat me."

"Exactly."

"Well," she said, stopping him and pulling on his clothes so that he faced her. "The way I see it, you still have this planet." She walked away from him a bit and turned her head so she could look at him. "You've certainly got me," she said coyly.

"That I do," he said softly. "That I do."

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