A/N. This is the result of an attempt at prewriting done about a month ago and posted whether or not my sorry attempt at advertising does any good. But, seriously, I am going to try and write this well, not just throw something down. If you have any questions, comments, or flames that can help me straighten out the plot line (What plot line?) and figure out what I am doing, please e-mail me at [email protected] ok? Thanks!

I was never born. Thoughtless, heartless humans will tell me that it is a good thing to not have a mother, not have a family. I was made in hatred and cold blood, something no one else can say. I was born not in the passion of love or lust, but in a passion for revenge. My father hated me like none but one, and his hatred spawned by fear of me, his child, his creation, erupted in the violence that was the first thing my calculating mind ever realized. Jero, my father, did fail at one thing, however. That thing was the fact that I do have a shard of family. My brother is the only support I have in this world, the only thing that can ever hold me together in my rages. He does not feel anger as I do; only having knowledge of when to kill and when to spare. I only kill, my anger and rage never tolerating of such things as fear and weakness. I must give my respects to the one named Goku for being the one thing my father feared more than he did me. Before I kill him, of course.

Vegeta meditated. This was the last day of peace, the last day of solitude. His infant son was hidden away along with his mate and the offspring and mate of Kakarotto. His mate, Bulma, would never survive his death but he hoped that Chichi, who had survived Goku's passing, would raise his son. Trunks would always remember his name and his parents, but he would not know his parents, as he should. Vegeta felt he would die, felt it in his bones. He could only hope Trunks really was old enough to remember his name. A light tapping brought him out of his depressed reverie. "Open," he commanded the computer in a voice that had deepened with age and maturity. The door slid up, and there stood his mate, tears evident on her cheeks. Vegeta jumped up.

"You are not to be here, Bulma. You should be where you are safe, you know that." A compassion he had always harbored but feared now possessed him, driving him to where the woman stood and enfolding her in his arms. Now she sobbed openly against his chest and the Saiya-jin Prince rocked her quietly, inwardly amazed at his own audacity. He ran a callused and scarred had over her azure hair, the softness of it comforting him even now as her considered the sacrilege of touching her in this… tenderness. It confused him that only now, years later and on the eve of his doom, could Vegeta come to terms with his love for her.

The woman in his arms quieted gradually and turned her eyes up to his face, the cerulean of them nearly drowning him. "Vegeta…" His name on her voice was calming and entrancing at the same time. "You know it doesn't matter."

This was an obvious truth he refused to deny her. "We could make it. We could. They've only been alive for a couple days and - "

Bulma effectively silenced him with a single finger over his lips. Sadness enshrouded her aura, tainting her eyes and expression. "How long they have been activated has nothing to do with it, Vegeta."

He spoke through her finger, the sensation of his lips moving against them sparking a sudden need he wasn't aware of before. "They learn, Bulma. They haven't learned much yet and we might win. We have to."

A shiver ran through her body, so slight that if he had not been holding her he would have missed it. Whether it originated from the same desire that had flashed through him or from fear he could not tell. "It doesn't matter." She leaned against him, laying her head upon his chest in a gesture of trust that even now shocked him no matter how often she did it. "You're going to die, and so am I."

Vegeta chuckled. "Since when are you a prophet? How do you know what will and won't happen?"

The girl slammed a fist against his chest in irritation, a gesture that certainly hurt her more than it had hurt him. "Damn it Vegeta, stop joking! I know since Videl and Gohan disappeared. I know since the world we used to know crumbled. Isn't that good enough for you, Vegeta?" She burst into tears again abruptly, eyes locked with Vegeta's despite the tears. "If you die, so do I, with or without the bond. Maybe you didn't realize this before, but I would love you without needing to. You never forced this upon me."

Specters from the past fell away suddenly, their haunting no longer having a hold. He had bonded the woman in an attempt to assure Kakarotto never tried to kill him if the other Saiya-jin decided his word wasn't worth the effort of allowing Vegeta to live. Bonds, being what they are, brought the two gradually closer, but Vegeta had always blamed himself for chaining the woman he now loved. "You… would?" Not needing an answer he lifted her face to his own and kissed her cheeks, slowing licking away her salt tears, then lowering his lips to her own. The earlier passion flared undeniably high, demanding, merciless. Bulma pulled the Saiya-jin prince backwards slowly, to the ground. Their final night together would have been one to remember had either lived long enough to look back on it, for the next day Vegeta challenged the androids and lost terribly.

Bulma felt all of his deathblows, allowing the final one to throw her into shock resulting in cardiac arrest. Trunks was alone with Chichi, who died of the same disease that claimed her husband when he was five. In Otherworld, Vegeta made a sword infused with the negative element of ki, managing to deliver it to his son in exchange for calling in every favor he was ever owed. Using this sword he finds in a dream, Trunks locks into a final battle with the androids which he won by accident when the aura of the sword drained both of them simultaneously. Granted revenge, the young Saiya-jin was then alone.

A/N. Well, what do you think so far? This is only the beginning of Trunks' history, and the next chapter will concern Pan's beginnings.