This is a one-shot written for MayMayB's fanfic challenge on the 'We're Just Saiyan' community on Google Plus. Check it out if you haven't ;) It's based on a fanart linked here: art/Vegeta-and-Bulma-03-12-09-145373935

This story takes place in the alternate timeline introduced to us by 'The History of Trunks'. This story is not a happy one and is rather tragic and it's my take on the events that are barely glimpsed in the movie. Most of this is written entirely from Vegeta's point of view until the last scene, which is from Bulma's. The song in this is 'Castle of Glass' by Linkin Park, which I thought worked rather well. I love the song and have wanted to use it in something for a while, just wasn't sure how. The song can be interpreted in many different ways, so hopefully you can see how I chose to interpret it to fit the story. Song lyrics are in italics. I am also lazy and terrible at coming up with story titles, hence the title.

This is unbeta'ed as I was impatient and wanted to post it. All mistakes are mine.

It's also rated M for language, adult themes, gore and character death. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z. If I did, there would be WAY more Bulma/Vegeta time among other stuff. Just sayin. I also don't own Linkin Park's 'Castle of Glass'. This is not for profit, just for fan enjoyment.

Take me down to the river bend
Take me down to the fighting end
Wash the poison from off my skin
Show me how to be whole again

Livid.

That was the word that came to mind. Livid self hatred. The sort that made your heart pound painfully with every beat, that made you want to just vanish from the shame.

Vegeta turned the faucet off with an angry flick of his wrist, nearly ripping the fixture from the sink. He grabbed at the wash cloth next to the sink wiping the remnants of water and blood from his face, glaring at the familiar face in the mirror with disgust.

They were children. Fucking children. Although the logical part of his brain knew that wasn't entirely accurate, he still couldn't believe the shitty turn his luck had taken. A pair of human teenagers had single handedly destroyed two cities, killed the Namekian and given him the worst beating since Frieza. He was the Prince of Saiyans, a super Saiyan at that, at last basking in the glory of his birth right and they managed to put him through a skyscraper in less than a few minutes. If that weren't humiliating enough, he'd been pulled out, saved by Krillin of all fucking people when the rest of the Z-Fighters had retreated to regroup. There was no limit to the shame that was to be brought down on him. He was sure the Fates were laughing their asses off in glee at the torment they were putting him through.

Vegeta bit back a hiss as he pulled off the lycra-like battle suit top. It was in tatters, much like his pride, hell, much like the rest of him. He grimly assessed the damage, and though most of it was superficial, the glass shards had to be removed. He gritted his teeth, removing each shard and staunching the bleeding the best he could with the washcloth. A few minutes later the glass had been removed from his arms, back and abdomen. The wounds bled a lot but none were particularly deep. They would be mostly gone by the morning. He'd lived through worse.

Flipping open the medicine cabinet, he grabbed a roll of medical tape and underneath the sink he found a large assortment of bandages. Injuries tended to be common place with him and the woman kept the medical supplies well stocked, thankfully. After a few minutes, he'd had himself bandaged up as best he could. After tossing the rest of the medical supplies under the sink and the bloody wash cloth in the hamper, Vegeta made his way from the in-suite bathroom, across the bedroom he'd used since he'd first come to stay at Capsule Corp. He was a bit surprised not to see Bulma asleep in his bed. Recently, she'd taken to staying there more often, and he found that he'd gotten used to it. Perhaps it was better she wasn't there. He didn't need her concern, her demands of an explanation. He made his way out onto the balcony that stretched across the back half of the building and leaned on the railing. He needed to think, to focus to do what he did best. He needed a strategy.

Vegeta ran the day's events through his mind, reconstructing what had happened, looking for a flaw, an explanation, anything really.

The teenagers had shown up suddenly, days before, without a trace of where they'd come from. Without warning or a word, they'd leveled a city. Thousands of humans gone in minutes. Earth's media was in a panic, trying to explain how it was possible that the two diminutive teens were able to cause so much destruction, and looking for a reason. Vegeta knew there was no reason, there was no rhyme. The two were out to destroy and nothing would get in their way. The Z-Fighters had gone to the scene but the two were long gone and they hadn't even felt a raised ki level. Vegeta too had shown up, to see the scene himself, to look for a clue to their identity, to look for a fight to break him from the dullness his life had become on Earth. He could care less for the humans, they meant nothing to him. He obliviously ignored the scenes of crying humans, the grief on the faces of the Z-Fighters, he needed a challenge.

Earlier today, reports confirmed a second attack, this one closer. Vegeta had raced to the city this time to find the two teens still taking potshots at the buildings. They seemed gleeful in their destruction, almost as if were a game. It was a scene Vegeta knew all too well. How many times had he been the harbinger of death and destruction in cities much like this one? How many times had he, Raditz and Nappa joked as the rained destruction to break the monotony. It was odd looking at it from the outside.

The others had then shown up. The Namekian, Three-eyes, Baldy, the Weakling and Kakarot's brat. Things were blurry after that. The Z-Fighters had righteously demanded an explanation to the destruction, a reason. They hadn't liked the answer. The teens were hell bent on destroying the world because they could. A man named Dr. Gero had apparently created them; cyborgs in revenge for something Kakarot had done years before and the idiot had let Gero live. After killing their creator, the two had decided to have some fun, at the expense of Earth's population. And here were Kakarot's allies here to mop up his mess because Kakarot wasn't here to do it himself. He was dead from a virus he'd brought back from an alien planet. The very same virus that had threatened the Earth months before. The same that Bulma and her team of scientists developed a vaccine for. Ironic that Earth's treasured hero had now succeeded twice in putting his precious planet in danger.

Vegeta had joined the fight, not because he particularly cared about the city below or the one before. He needed to fight, to keep himself sharp. He had thrived on blood, battle and madness his whole life, peacetime made him uneasy. He had to also admit that while most of Earth's population didn't concern him, he knew that if left unchecked it would only be a matter of time before West City would become a target, which meant that Bulma and Trunks would be in danger. As much as he hated to admit it, as much as he'd fought the alien feelings that crept up when he was around them, the thought of them dying made him sick.

The fight had been frustrating. The two were fast, amazingly so and they were in sync with each other in a way that required no communication, as if they were of one mind. It was unnerving. They were also powerful and what was worse, they had no discernible ki. None. Not even their attacks. It made them a dangerous challenge.

Vegeta and Piccolo had gone up against them, being the strongest of the assembled fighters. Vegeta had to give the Namekian credit, he'd gotten much stronger, he'd kept up on his training unlike some of the others. It hadn't been enough. He'd slipped up, made a crucial mistake and paid for it in blood.

Vegeta remembered the horror on the other fighters faces as the Namekian had fallen to Earth, his energy winking out of existence. Piccolo had died a warrior's death, he'd fought well. Vegeta had charged at the two. He'd lasted minutes before the girl had landed a vicious roundhouse kick that had sent him through one of the last remaining skyscrapers of the city, sending the glass and steel structure down on top of his head. He'd awoken hours later a distance away. Krillin, Tien, Gohan and Yamcha were trying to formulate a plan, come up with a way they could stop them. Neither Tien or Yamcha looked worse for wear but Krillin and the kid had seen action. There was an air of desperation, of rage and sorrow around the group. Not only had they lost Piccolo, a key member of their group, and the explanation for the kid's listless shell shocked state, they'd realized with sinking clarity they'd lost the dragonballs as well. Any hope of restoring anything was gone. They could only hope to be able to eliminate the threat and pick up the pieces after all this tragedy. There would be no miracle or easy fix, and for once they didn't have their precious 'Goku'. Vegeta felt none of the glee he thought he would to see the group so demoralized; he felt only emptiness, rage and shame. When Krillin had asked him if he had anything to contribute, any plan or strategy, Vegeta had been about to leave them to figure it out. The old clouds of self hatred were hazing his brain with vengeance, the strongest he'd felt in a long time. Then the kid had glanced over at him with his large, sorrow-filled eyes. There was a certain look Vegeta recognized on the boy's face, a look he'd seen before too often. Determination and a need for revenge. Something inside him made him bite back the harsh retort he had at the ready and reluctantly he agreed to meet to come up with some sort of plan.

He'd left then; flying back to Capsule Corp. to tend is physical wounds as well as his pride. Vegeta snapped back to the present, gazing out at the night sky, just starting to lighten on the horizon. His thoughts were still a turbulent storm and he was having a hard time attempting to sort through them, to clear his mind and focus.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a light flicker on from one of the rooms along the balcony, the library. Curiously, he made his way over to peer through the glass to see Bulma in the dim lamplight. She'd apparently fallen asleep on the couch, something she did every so often. She often went there to unwind when she couldn't sleep. Bulma apparently caught sight of him and made her way over to the doors, opening them.

Vegeta saw he wrap her arms around herself to ward off the chilly night air. Her silk nightgown didn't cover enough to offer any sort of protection against the cold. Vegeta had to admit that while the gown itself was almost silly in its impracticalness, the pastel purple silk gleamed against her pale skin in an alluring way and the cut of it left little to the imagination. Though Vegeta didn't need to imagine, he knew her body nearly as well as he knew his own. The past few days had taken their toll on her as far as stress and worry. In addition to her duties at Capsule Corp. and caring for Trunks, she'd been worried about the attacks and coordinating resources to deal with the aftermath. There were dark shadows of exhaustion under her eyes. He watched as she ran a hand through her sleep mussed hair, grown longer the last few months and saw her eyes focus on him and widen with concern.

"Vegeta! What the hell happened? You look like hell!" She exclaimed, touching his wrapped abdomen gingerly.

"Have you looked in a mirror lately, woman? You should talk." He watched the momentary flash of irritation cross her face at his comment before her expression returned to concern. His abs tightened involuntarily as she continued her scrutiny, feeling his ribs, looking for breaks no doubt. There was bruising but no broken bones. He let her continue, knowing it was futile to fight her in this, she would force the issue.

"You're bleeding through your bandages!" She stated, meeting his eyes. She kept eye contact, her eyes searching his, looking for answers, reading his expression. He'd found it unnerving in the beginning, how well she could read him, the fact that she maintained eye contact with him when few had ever tried. He found he'd gotten somewhat used to it and he felt that…something he'd felt lately. Something inside him pulled when she looked at him like that. He wasn't sure he knew how to process it, or that he liked it.

"I'm fine." Vegeta answered after a moment. "The bleeding has stopped. It's superficial." That was true, he could feel the dried blood on the bandage pull on the wound when he moved. He watched her lips purse, her eyes narrow slightly as if she didn't quite believe him.

Bulma's hand touched his arm, attempting to guide him towards the couch. He resisted at first. "Come sit before you fall down. You look exhausted." She urged gently. With a weary sigh, Vegeta complied, sitting next to her on the couch.

Bulma crossed her arms, curling her legs next to her and bit her lip. Vegeta saw the tension on her face, the hesitation. Her curiosity was getting the best of her and yet she was afraid of the answers. "Do you have any answers?" She asked hesitantly.

Vegeta considered giving her a vague answer or snapping at her, starting an argument to derail her. It was easier to lash out than explain the situation, to come to terms with his shortcomings. He owed her an explanation at the least, she needed to know the threat they faced. He'd come to terms with the fact that she was as much a part of her eclectic group of fighters on this planet as the others even if she didn't fight with them. The others may have been the brawn but she was the brains behind it all, she provided them with support, with equipment and tech and as much as he hated to admit it her compassion and friendship held them together. Somehow he'd been sucked into it all. Somewhere along the way, as much as he'd fought it and denied it, she'd even won him over in her own way. He couldn't decipher when or how it happened but she'd gotten him to care about someone other than himself. He owed it to her to protect her and their son.

Vegeta sighed, running a hand wearily through his hair. He focused his eyes on the far wall and recounted the day's events as they'd happened. He told her of Gero's creations, that the two terrorizing the Earth were cyborgs and they wouldn't stop at anything short of complete and utter destruction of the Earth. Reluctantly he revealed that because they gave off no ki signature, there was no way of knowing how strong they were, no clear answer to if they could be stopped.

Bulma's face was grim as she absorbed the details. She swallowed and asked the question she'd been holding back. "Did we lose anyone?"

Vegeta met her eyes, knowing she would know the implications of his next words immediately. "Piccolo." He answered quietly.

Bulma's eyes closed with grief, tears escaped from under her eyelashes and trailed over her cheeks. She didn't make a sound, she silently grieved not only for the death of Piccolo himself, but for Kami, for the Earth. They'd relied on the dragonballs to fix tragedies, to bring back friends fallen in battle, to right everything when it went all wrong. He knew the dragonballs had brought her and her friends together. They were gone forever.

Vegeta clenched his fists in anger. To see her grieve her loss brought back the rage at the situation that he had done fuck all to stop it. "I couldn't stop it. It's a fucking joke. I'm a super Saiyan and it wasn't even enough. They tossed me through a building like I was fucking nothing! And for the life of me I can't even fathom a plan to stop them. For all the ki I have, for all I know it's useless!" The rage and inner turmoil he felt manifested into ki and he felt his Super Saiyan aura flare around him. It should have been a comfort, a testament to his strength but it just reminded him of his failure. The sudden power surge blew out the overhead light as well as the lamp, shrouding the room in darkness. Dim light from the pre-dawn sky filtered in through the window casting the room in shades of grey.

He could see Bulma clearly, his vision in the dark much better than a human's, though he figured his ki lit him up like a beacon in the dark. Bulma reached out carefully, as if she wasn't sure his energy would harm her.

Vegeta dropped his ki shield watching her touch his arm, not sure what her intention was but unwilling to harm her. Once she touched him and realized that his ki wouldn't hurt her, she wrapped her arm around his, resting her cheek against his shoulder. Her eyes closed and she leaned into him. At any other time, her attempts to comfort him, to coddle him in anyway had always enraged him and yet, Vegeta couldn't find it in him to feel anything other than a sense of odd calmness at her touch. In a way it was almost like she was comforting herself by leaning into him, drawing his strength. He felt that tug in his chest again and couldn't find it in him to rationalize it at the moment. Her hair brushed across his face and her familiar scent was sedating almost. He felt his ki level revert back to normal, his eyes and hair returning to their usual color.

Bulma opened her eyes, her hand that had been curled over her chest, as if to take away her pain, reached up to wipe her eyes. "What do we do?" She whispered shakily.

"We try to come up with something. We fight. The others will be here tomorrow to plan."

Bulma's lip shook and Vegeta watched as she bit down on it, attempting to compose herself. Tears welled and she angrily blinked them back. Determination showed in her eyes as her hand touched his cheek.

"You are going to fight and you are coming back, do you hear me? You are a pain in the ass and an asshole and you drive me bat shit crazy but you are going to show those things a thing or two and come back. Trunks needs someone to teach him how to fight eventually."

Vegeta cocked a brow at her in mild amusement, hearing the tone behind the words and insults. "And if I don't?" He said the words as if he was just playing devil's advocate, as if there was nothing to them but he felt a chill, a subtle acceptance of them. Somewhere inside, he knew that it was a distinct possibility that he wouldn't come back. There was a sense of regret, that he'd never see his son grow up, that he'd leave Bulma to raise him alone.

Bulma's eyes flashed with pain, but she covered it well, he'd give her that. "I'd never forgive you." Her words held that same morbid joking tone his had. Part of him believed her. And perhaps she shouldn't. It would be just one more way he'd rejected her and he'd done enough of that.

Her lips against his tore Vegeta away from his thoughts. He felt her tongue trace his lower lip. He opened his mouth to her and something changed. Her simple kissed turned heated, desperate even. She shifted, pressing against him, pushing him back against the arm of the couch with a grunt, his bandaged back protesting the movement.

Bulma's eyes opened as she pulled back momentarily. "I forgot about your injuries, did I—,"

Vegeta cut off her question, pulling her against him, his mouth on hers. His injuries be damned, he needed this as much as her. Her fevered kiss had lit the flames of lust and he needed to lose himself if only temporarily.

Bulma's body was warm through the thin silk of her gown, heating the material. She ground her hips against his, her hands tangling in his hair as she pressed her body further against his. Her hands found the waistband of the tattered remains of his bodysuit pants and she pulled them and his undergarments down in one motion, using her legs to slide them down the rest of the way. Somewhere along the way her panties had disappeared and her gown had ridden up around her hips, though he wasn't quite sure when that had happened, nor did he seem to care. He needed her closeness, the warmth and pleasure she could give and he was lost in a haze of skin, silk and her scent.

Her face pulled back from his as she straddled him, taking in his length. He drank in the image of her as she arched her back in pleasure, her eyes closing for a moment, her cheeks flushed with desire. He hadn't often let her stay in this position for long, he'd always been impatient, wanting to control the pace. When her hips began to move he found that he didn't give a damn as long as it didn't stop. Her hands pressed on his shoulders, bracing her as she rocked against him, her nails leaving half moon imprints in the skin.

Vegeta drew her down, their mouths meeting in a rush of teeth and tongues as friction between them increased. He braced her hips with one hand as his other ran over her breasts, teasing them through the silk. Her breathing increased dramatically and her mouth left his as she arched again. Her muscles clenched around him and he was sure that her fingernails damn near pierced his skin as rode out the wave of pleasure. She never slowed the rhythm of her hips and it wasn't too long before he joined her, stilling her hips, slowly rocking against her, prolonging pleasure as long as he could. Somewhere in it all he'd closed his eyes and when he opened them, she was watching at him, a content smile on her features.

Vegeta drew Bulma down for another kiss, this one not as frenzied, and rolled his eyes as she used the opportunity to shift and lay her head on his shoulder, rolling partially over to her side. In the afterglow of his orgasm he was just content to continue laying there, he didn't have the energy to shrug her off. Her warmth and weight was comfortable against him. His hand had never left her hip and he lazily traced a finger over it, tracing the curve, following it to where it ended and her abdomen started. He traced very edge of the slightly raised scar he a little further and lower, not quite sure how he felt about the thing marring her skin.

A loud cry of discontent echoed through the silence from down the hall and let out a sigh, nuzzling her face into Vegeta's shoulder and kissing it one more time. With that, she levered herself upright and he watched her stand and stretch. She put her underwear back on and quickly straitened her gown.

"Motherhood calls. I'll be laying down after this. You should get some rest." She suggested as she left the room.

Vegeta had taken a quick shower and changed into less tattered clothes. He found his feet moving on their own accord, down the hall toward what used to be one of the guest rooms, now his son's room. The door was open and though the interior was dim in the morning light he could see Bulma was laying Trunks back into his crib. The child was asleep, no doubt after eating his fill. The child had a Saiyan's appetite. Vegeta watched the scene, awkwardly, as always disbelieving that he could fit somehow into such a quiet and domestic scene, part of himself saying he never would.

Bulma's eyes met his as she made her way out of the room. She looked more tired than she had before. "You should be resting." She said in a whisper, partially closing the door behind her. "The others will probably be here soon, it's almost 7."

Vegeta didn't get to answer, there was a sound that echoed through the building, a low distant rumble, like a roll of thunder but different. A sound he knew well.

Bulma's eyes were wide as she looked at him. "Was that an explosion?"

Vegeta nodded moving past her quickly to his room. She followed after him as he got into his armor quickly with the speed of a long time warrior. He tore the bandages off his arms but left his middle wrapped. It took him a matter of moments before he was fully dressed.

"How far do you think?" She asked.

"Other side of the city, by the distance. Get Trunks, get your parents and get underground. It's safer there." He ordered. Vegeta felt exhausted but he'd worked in worse condition. He cleared his mind, feeling the familiar song of battle, the adrenaline kick through his veins. He was trained for this, this was his world.

Bulma nodded in understanding. "I'll call the others from down there, like I said, they're probably already on their way."

Vegeta nodded, watching detached as Bulma loaded a bag with essentials for Trunks and grabbed the sleeping infant.

She looked at him once more, her chin held high. "Take care of yourself out there." She was an open book, she was upset, she was worried, she was determined.

Vegeta felt his mouth curve into a smirk, "Always."

Fly me up on a silver wing
Past the black where the sirens sing
Warm me up in a nova's glow
And drop me down to the dream below

'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass
Hardly anything there for you to see
For you to see

Pain. Exhaustion. Blood. Smoke. Rubble. Screaming.

It was a scene Vegeta was all too familiar with. The pain and exhaustion were a second skin, they told him he still was alive. The environment was the same, a battlefield, a place of death.

Only this wasn't him causing it. This wasn't a mission. This wasn't routine. He was on the other end.

The female cyborg, 18 as he'd learned was blocking every hit Tien threw at her. Yamcha managed to barely hit her blindside while she was distracted, and she swatted him, sending him flying as if swatting a gnat. The Z-Fighters were putting up a fight, but it wasn't enough. It wouldn't be enough.

Vegeta had seen the outcome of this too many times. The only thing to do was fight. Fight until the end.

17, the male cyborg with the long dark hair and appeared in front of him. Vegeta blocked two blows intended for his head and midsection. Vegeta saw a slight opening in the kid's technique and took it, cursing as the kid blocked it anyway. This was a game to him.

Movement of in the distance caught his eye. It was Kakarot's brat, Gohan, racing toward him. The goddamn cavalry he thought he was.

A smile Vegeta didn't like crept onto the cyborgs face. It was sarcastic, full of malice and promised pain. "Your friend is charging over here, trying to help. Too bad you'll be too far gone to appreciate it."

Vegeta did have time to interpret the threat as he barely blocked a vicious kick. He noticed too late the hand that went through his chest. Pain. Blood. Everything fading. He'd been here before.

He saw Gohan, saw the rage and sorrow on the boys face, felt the ki spike. Maybe the others had hope with him. The brat was strong. Maybe it was enough.

He attempted to gasp for air as the cyborg withdrew his hand, but his heart and lungs were shredded.

Vegeta's vision faded to black, he felt death sweeping in to take him away once more. He'd failed. Himself, the others, his son, Bulma.

The TV coverage wasn't as extensive as Bulma had hoped. Sure, every station was reporting that the northern suburb of West City had been attacked. It was the third attack in three days. They reported on what buildings had gone down, how many dead. There was no camera coverage. Something had happened to the camera person. There was no amateur footage, people weren't sticking around to film, people were fleeing for their lives.

There had been reports of someone fighting the two teens, the cyborgs, but these were put on the backburner because of heavy casualties at both a school and hospital in the area. And then the power had gone out, the grid overloaded or damaged. Bulma was able to turn on the emergency lantern beside her. Capsule Corp had emergency generators but not in the part of the lower level they were at. They were in the den area that usually served as a break room for her and her father while they were in the labs.

Her parents were in the next room, tending to some of the pets they'd carted down to the lower level with them.

Bulma's stomach was in knots as she absently rocked her son, who was fussing, sensing her fear and anxiety no doubt.

She felt so useless at the situation. Her friends were out there fighting of these monsters, Vegeta was out there and here she was cowering in the dark. She knew it was irrational. Capsule Corporation had been helping all they could in relief effort for the cities that had been hit, supporting all they could. As soon as the all clear was given, she'd be on the phone and computer busting her ass to help again but still, if Capsule Corp. was even still there. She felt powerless that she couldn't help fix the problem instead of just supporting.

She wasn't quite sure how long she sat there stewing the same thoughts over and over, worrying. Bunny checked in on her at one point.

It was surreal, she felt as if she were in a nightmare that wouldn't end. The last year had been some of the best and worst of her life. Her pregnancy, her problems with Vegeta, their dysfunctional on and off again relationship that had just started to show some sort of hope, Trunks' birth and being a mother, dealing with Goku's sudden death, the horrifying ordeal of racing for a cure with the virus outbreak, and now this. She felt as if she'd aged years.

Her cell phone buzzed, startling her. She knew phones were overloaded but she'd completely forgotten that texting worked differently. Hell, she'd completely forgotten she'd had her cell! She pulled her phone out of her pocket, nearly dropping it in the rush to check the message. It was a text from Krillin. It was short and to the point, and seemed somehow ominous. Or maybe she was psyching herself out.

I'm at your door. The back patio. It's safe. The message read.

Bulma rose to her feet, walking as quickly as she could to her parents.

"Mom! Dad! We got the all clear, Krillin is at the door!" She ran past them, taking the stairs two at a time in her rush to get to the door. She probably broke some sort of land speed record getting to the door and opening it.

Krillin stood there, phone in hand and visibly jumped as she opened the door.

He looked battered and bruised, his gi slightly tattered. It was the look on his face, the look of devastation in his eyes that really stopped her. This was Krillin, who took almost everything in stride. Something had happened, something beyond bad.

Bunny had caught up to Bulma. "Oh sweetie, you certainly were hurrying. Let me take the baby, he's sleeping so soundly." Bulma glanced to her mother and carefully handed her Trunks, with a quiet thanks.

Bunny cradled Trunks and did a double take. "Krillin! What happened? Are you hurt?" She asked concerned.

Krillin looked confused for a split second and glanced down at the blood splattered on his gi. "Ah…no, Mrs. Briefs. I'm fine. Please excuse me and Bulma for just moment?" He said politely. His voice sounded odd, shaky almost.

Bunny nodded, her usually happy face worried as she walked back through the door.

Bulma felt a torrent of emotions, fear, confusion, grief. "Who?" She asked, not wanting to but needing to know.

Krillin shifted his feet, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. He was trying to stay strong. "We lost Tien...and Yamcha." He said, grief nearly choking his voice to a whisper.

Tears ran down Bulma's face in an instant. She'd never been close to Tien, though she felt grief at his passing but Yamcha…he was one of her oldest friends. Though she didn't romantically love him anymore, she still would always love him.

Bulma sat down heavily on the porch and Krillin joined her. He patted her back as she cried for a few minutes. Eventually it tapered down. More tears would come later, for days, but she needed to compose herself for the moment. She needed to think clearly.

"Where are they?" She asked.

"Gohan took them to Mount Paoz. It's better to bury them there, safer." Krillin said. He still hadn't made eye contact, still hadn't shed a tear. He seemed to be composing himself.

Bulma gave him a look. "You let a child take care of something like that? What the hell, Krillin."

Krillin clenched his jaw. "I had something else to take care of." He glanced up at her, meeting her eyes.

Bulma felt it, the first sense that he hadn't told her everything, the first inkling of fear. She stared back trying to put the puzzle together. The pieces weren't quite fitting together.

"If Gohan took care of them, and you aren't injured, where is the blood from?" Bulma asked, shakily, daring him to tell her anything other than what she didn't want to.

Krillin took a deep breath, his composure held together by sheer will.

Bulma stared back, her eyes tearing, "No…"

"Bulma, I don't know how to say this…"

Bulma shook her head, "Then don't! No!" Her heart was pounding painfully, her throat hurt, tears streamed down her face.

"You need to hear it. We lost Vegeta. He's gone…"

The words were like a physical punch, she swore she felt her heart skip from the pain. Her brain vehemently denied it, denied that he could be gone when she'd seen him, held him, felt his heart beat just hours before.

"Where is he?" Bulma asked after a moment, her brain needing the proof to what her heart already knew. She needed to see him.

Krillin shakily rose to his feet. "I wasn't sure where..what you wanted to do." He stated.

"Where I wanted him buried…" Bulma finished from what he'd hesitated to say. Her brain was foggy, she felt as if her whole body was moving through mist, almost dream like. It was as time had slowed to a crawl as she followed after Krillin, every step took an eternity, each one heavy as lead. Her heart beat loudly in her own ears.

Bring me home in a blinding dream,
through the secrets that I have seen

Krillin had laid him carefully on one of the benches in the garden, just out of sight of the doors. Bulma approached slowly, taking in the image. All of this time she'd denied caring about this man, the anger and rage she'd felt toward him, the emotional pain, she realized with stunning clarity just how much she had loved him. How strong that love was. They'd finally reached a level of normalcy, of comfortableness with each other, just earlier today was proof of that. Now that was gone. Her heart felt as if were literally going to crumble, she had to force herself to breathe normal, to move forward.

She stopped in front of the bench, dropping onto her knees.

He looked regal even in death, every bit the prince he'd prided himself to be. His eyes were closed; his expression was calm, almost as if he were asleep. As if he was just asleep and would wake at any moment, as if there weren't a wound over his heart.

Bulma reached a shaking hand and touched his cheek. His cheek was cold and his face much paler than it had ever been. It shattered the sleep illusion, shattered the denial and the rest of her composure.

She fell against him, sobbing. Her body was shook uncontrollably as she cried and screamed her pain, her anger.

It was a while before Krillin approached her, before he gently touched her shoulder. She'd calmed, she felt as if she had nothing left in her. She felt worn, exhausted, sick. She touched her hand to Krillin's and accepted his embrace.

Wash the sorrow from off my skin
and show me how to be whole again

Eventually she sat back, wiping her red, tear streaked face. She could hear Trunks fussing in the background and as dead as she was feeling inside, she needed to pull herself together. Her son needed her. She needed to be strong for him above all else. For her son, her friends, her company.

'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass
Hardly anything else I need to be

A few days later were as quick as the funerals could be organized. Bulma's own personal grief had taken the backburner to taking care of her son, to dealing with the aftermath of the cyborg's attack and to organizing everything to lay their friends to rest.

The services had been simple, the graves simpler. Just plain name markers over graves. She half expected any number of them to be over with the shrinking group of her friends in the distance. She half expected to hear Goku or Yamcha crack a joke at anytime and have everyone in stitches despite the grim events.

Everyone had been buried at Mount Paoz. It was a place that was isolated, that may remain untouched and intact.

Bulma glanced across the clearing towards the Son's home. Chichi and her mother seemed to be deep in discussion though she was too far away to hear the words. Her father was conversing with the Ox King. Gohan sat in the grass watching Trunks crawl and explore. Master Roshi, Oolong, Puar, Turtle, Chaoutzu…the remaining members of her friends. It seemed peaceful and calm.

Her gaze shifted back to the markers, the newest most hastily constructed catching her eye…Krillin.

Her eyes clouded with tears, dull grief, fresh grief, grief for her best and oldest friend, for two acquaintances she'd never get another chance to get to know better, grief for two friends she'd loved with all her heart and grief for the man she'd never thought she'd love, for someone who'd been the other half of her soul, who she would never get a chance to explore a future with.

Bulma lowered her head and allowed herself to grieve.

'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass
Hardly anything left for you to see
for you to see

'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass
Hardly anything left for you to see
for you to see