There's Always a Catch

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z, nor will ever claim to. Obvious OC, noncannon, characters belong to me.

Fate.

It implied an unchangeable destiny. It meant an unalterable course. Did it truly exist? Was it real? If it was your fate to destroy everything, whether you cared for it or not, could pure will alone be capable of altering your destiny? Was there any use in fighting fate? Or was fate a contrived word in order for society to maintain control?

Perhaps many meditated on this theory of fate, hoping that they might find the answer within themselves when no one, and no where, else offered up clues or reasons, or thoughtful explanations. It was certain, though, that none thought more fervently on the subject than the one that resided, currently, on Nambatia.

The Legendary Super Saiyan. Prophecies had stated that he would be the only to ever obtain the ability to master the levels of super saiyan.

They'd been wrong.

There had been others. Many others. Not only that, but even demi-Saiyans had managed what had once been thought to be an exclusive state of strength, power and control. How ironic it was that the only being that should be capable of this state had no control upon reaching it. Such was not a minor blow to his not so easily malleable Saiyan pride.

Where else had they been wrong?

Had his unbendable rage and hazy insanity been a product of prophecy, both self-fulfilling and imposed, or had there been a scientific explanation for it all along?

The hulking figure stood from his folded position on the ground, drawing tightly clenched fists to his sides. He breathed deeply as he widened his stance, holding the air within his core for several seconds before he released it. Golden power swirled all around him, tangible in the air and causing his hair to stand on end. His power level soared effortlessly, taking off beyond his control. The urge to follow in its wake was strong and pulling, but he resisted. He stood his ground, visualizing the level of strength that he could not see, only feel.

'Think of something that flies', the monk had said. 'Then visualize its decent'.

He did just that, but his faith in the old monk's words were wearing extremely thin. He was growing restless and weary. He was dysfunctional in his unhealthy obsession with this practice and his determination to master it. He was exhausted, starving and unkept. Finally, with a growl of irritation, Brolly loosed the energy, sending it out around him in a wide wave of flame. It snapped against his field and then shot out flat across the grey terrain. A resounding boom shook his eardrums for a moment before everything fell back to its eerie silence. He let loose a sigh before he felt his power level recover and begin its struggled climb upward once more. Like an annoying mountain climber that just wouldn't call it quits, he thought.

Brolly dropped his gaze to the grey rock below him, his hair falling, matted, around him in black. He began trekking back to the home of the old recluse, alien monk. It was bothersome, that after just over five Earthen years (he'd been keeping count), he was still unable to master what all the others did fairly naturally. In fact, in all dangerous reality, he was quite the opposite in functioning from the rest of them. Where they struggled to raise their power level, he was struggling to suppress his. Only in times of need, perhaps, had their situation been of hindrance to them. This was a dangerous matter altogether, all of the time, for him and everyone else around him.

Furrowing his brow, he entered the brown stone temple with his forefinger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Another headache, Brolly?" Faiso asked, looking up from his book. Brolly grunted in reply to the old monk's words. "You should rest. You look awful." The old monk didn't receive any intellectual responses from the passing Saiyan, nor did he receive more than another simple, guttural response before his guest disappeared into another room. Faiso looked back down at his book with a shake of his tubular head and an amused grin.

"Louder!"

"Kya!"

"I can't hear you!"

"KYA!"

Fists pumped simultaneously as the voices all echoed in unison, somewhat. Steps were taken assuredly, somewhat. Precision was taken into account, somewhat. What was indeed completely sure was that upon every face was an expression of extreme concentration. The karate teacher, a sempai to his master's own dojo, strode along the lines with each pause of form. He shuffled stances and tested the strength of them. As he passed one particular slim figure, he watched as her hazel eyes darted toward him. Noticing quite quickly that her sempai had been looking at her, she quickly averted her gaze forwards again. He slowly ambled to stand in front of her. He was quiet, his hands folded behind his back as he stared into her face. She remained in forward stance, one arm outstretched in the punch he'd demanded them to freeze in.

"LOUDER!" His voice exclaimed, straight into her face. Her spine snapped and frazzled, her eyes widening and her flight instinct shooting through her core and into her legs. She nearly leapt in place, before she swung forward and let loose a feeble 'kya'. He stared, making it clear that he wouldn't be leaving until she satisfied him. Taking a deep breath, and without moving, she bellowed a loud 'kya', and he nodded in approval before moving on.

"Stop it." She said, batting away a tiny hand as she sat, curled in her chair, before a glowing screen. "Knock it off, Rosette." She was obviously distracted, and the child at her side was trying, with all of her might, to refocus the lady's attention on her. Finally the lady snapped.

"Rosette! I said quit it!" The small child, indeed, stopped pestering the woman. She stood, silent, her small face scrunching in the dark. The lady swiveled back towards the screen. A few seconds later, though, after several choked back sniffles, the lady slowly turned back towards the little girl. Guilt laid heavy in her voice.

"I'm sorry, honey." She whispered, reaching out her arms. The young child happily obliged, holding out her own arms so that the woman could lift her up into her lap. "What's wrong?"

"Bad dream." She whispered, staring at the screen. Her eyes were strikingly intelligent for a five year old.

"Yeah? What happened?" The woman asked. The child looked down at her nightgown, fisting up the hem in her tiny hands. She wrung the fabric, deep in thought and memory.

"I was a star." She said quietly. "And I exploded." The woman stared at the screen, her eyebrows furrowing in thought and confusion. What an odd nightmare for a child to have.

"And then I was the sun."

"The sun is a star, honey."

"And I exploded."

"Did it hurt?"

"A lot. It hurt a lot." The little girl said, sniffling the remains of her earlier stifled cry. "And then I was drowning. I don't want to drown, mommy."

"I know honey. I won't let you drown. Ever. I promise." She said. The little girl looked up at her mother. She was a little bit hopeful, but her faith slowly melted from her face as she looked up into her mother's eyes. "I mean it!" The woman said, tickling her daughter's side. Rosette giggled a little and nodded.

"Promise me you won't become a star and go exploding on me, okay?" Her mother asked.

"I promise." Rosette said with a short laugh, nodding to extenuate her point.

"I love you, baby." She whispered, clutching her daughter close. Her daughter returned the sentiment.

"Vegeta. Would you get those e-mails sent please?" The blue haired woman, Bulma, flipped some pancakes and shuffled around some bacon, while fending off a drooling Trunk with one foot.

"Why do I have to do it? This whole 'summer vacation every single year at the summer home' was all your stupid idea."

"I'm trying to keep everyone together, okay? Look at you! You aren't doing anything!" The poor woman was nearly at the end of her wits. She was a creature who obviously juggled way too much all at one time, all the time, and was slowly beginning to look the part. Frazzled, unkept, and overworked. This wasn't natural for Bulma. She was a princess at heart, a scientist by nature, and was more apt to care for herself than lift a finger for anyone. However, between her and a husband just like her, nothing would ever get done if she stayed completely true to the self she knew and loved. Thus, mornings like these.

"If you don't get your royal ass-," she was just beginning a new tirade when the former prince stood up and began his short trek over to the kitchen computer.

"Alright!" He interrupted her newly budding rant. "I'm going, you ridiculous nag." He plopped down into the chair, grumbling something incoherent that Bulma knew she didn't want to hear.

"Don't forget Sapphire."

"She never comes."

"Don't forget Sapphire." She repeated between gritted teeth. The black haired man sighed and shook his head, but added her to the send list anyway.

'Incoming Call: Bulma.' The phone repeated this like a mantra five times over before it finally fell silent. The owner of the cell phone lay in bed, staring at it mutely. The mantra began again, the phone vibrating lightly against the sheets. She lay, staring, willing this to be the last time the blue haired scientist called her. This wouldn't be the first time that Sapphire had completely fallen off of the face of the Earth where Bulma was concerned. And last time when Sapphire actually let the woman contact her again…

The memory gripped her, and Sapphire turned her face into her pillow and let out a strangled groan. 'Don't think about. Don't think about it.'

"Mommy!" A voice called from the hallway, and Sapphire shifted again so that she could see through her bedroom door. "I brought you—oops—coffee!" The young girl, careful as she could be, shuffled towards her mother with a steaming, dripping cup of life source. Sapphire reached for it.

"Thank you, honey."

"You're phone was ringing."

"You and your super hearing. Yes, yes it was."

"How come you never answer Bulma's phone calls?" The little girl had no idea who Bulma was, but she knew that it was one of the people that Sapphire never answered to when the phone rang. Sapphire smiled a sad smile as she put a hand on the crown of her daughter's head.

"Because your mommy's a bad friend." Sapphire stated frankly. Rosette pouted.

"Noooo… you're not." Sapphire shook her head in argument.

"Oh yes. Yes I am. You're right, I should call her back, huh?" Sapphire said, even though the little girl had never suggested such a thing.

"You should. With how much she calls you and you don't pick up, I'm sure she'll be very happy." Rosette clasped her hands behind her back as she spoke, looking up at her mother innocently. Sapphire stared at her daughter, always astounded by her intelligence and perceptivity, however naïve and innocent it might be.

"'Kay…" Sapphire uttered, a little distracted by wonderment. "Go get ready for school. I'll make you some toast."

"Okaaaay!" Rosette exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air and skittering off to her own little room in their two bedroom apartment.

Sapphire picked up her phone, unhooking it from the charger. She paused over the contact 'Bulma', attempting to talk herself into it just as much as she attempted to talk herself out of it. Finally, she pressed the 'Talk' button and brought the speaker to her ear. It rang several times, and Sapphire secretly willed it to go to voicemail so she could just hang up inconspicuously.

"Sapphire?"

"H-hey! Bulma…" Sapphire greeted the enthusiastic female voice on the other end.

"Oh my goodness, I was so worried!" There was a bit of frazzled concern in the other woman's voice, and Sapphire bit her lip. Her heart was sinking with guilt.

"I'm sorry to have made you worry." Sapphire's voice was genuine in her apology.

"It's not alright but I'll live. So hey, I sent—er, Vegeta sent out e-mail invitations last night. I was just wanting to make sure that you'd gotten it, and that you were coming this time." Bulma explained. 'This time', Sapphire's brain echoed. She literally hung her head in shame.

"W-well… I'd love to but—," Sapphire began.

"Please don't come up with some excuse. I really, really, really miss you. Please, please?" Bulma asked, no, practically pleaded.

"Is something the matter?" Sapphire asked on impulse.

"Yeah! Something is! I haven't seen my good friend, nor heard from her, in over five years!" The auburn haired girl cringed at the accusation.

"I'll try… okay?"

"That's all I ask. I hope we get to see you." With their farewells, Sapphire hung up. She sat on the edge of the bed awhile, staring at the phone that sat in her folded hands.

"Mommy! Where's the toast?" Sapphire sat upright with a jolt when she heard her daughter in the kitchen, cursing under her breath and shuffling for the other room.

"Sorry honey! Mommy was making a phone call to Bulma!"

"Yay! All better?"

"Yes. Would you like to go some place cool on summer break?"

"YAY!" Sapphire laughed at her daughter's enthusiastic exclamation.

"That's great, Michael. I'm glad you were able to get that promotion."

"Thank you. I really appreciate your support." Michael said, who sat across the table from Sapphire as they shared lunch at a café near where both of them worked. "I'm really excited about this new project Hoptech has contrived." He set down his phone and set back to picking through his salad.

"Yeah." Sapphire said, thinking about the snippet of plans that were revealed to the crew today. "If it all pans out, it won't be just a breakthrough in energy technology. It'll at least shut the environmentalists up for a little while."

"Maybe." Michael said with a laugh. Sapphire smiled, liking it when he laughed. He had a handsome laugh. It wasn't too deep, too high. It wasn't hoarse. It didn't growl out of his throat…

"How is my little Rosie doing?" He asked. Every time he visited, Rosette seemed to really enjoy being called that by him. Only him. She was only Rosie to Michael, who often brought something new for her every time he paid their small apartment a visit.

"Very well. She really enjoys school. It's disturbing how much dedication she puts into it." Sapphire laughed a little, thinking about how Rosette was always up before her mother, bringing her coffee so that Sapphire could start the day on time to get Rosette to school.

"That's good." Michael smiled. It was a genuine smile. It wasn't a smirk. It wasn't frightening. It was handsome. "Hey Sapphire… this might seem kind of sudden, but I've been thinking… are you sure you want to be raising Rosette all on your own?" Sapphire's head fell to one shoulder in one mighty quirk, her brow furrowing as she chewed on her food. The expression alone was a question.

"Well… look. I care about you and her. A lot. I just want to be there for both of you as much as I can." His words seemed sincere, but then, Sapphire had been lied to often enough. She looked down at her plate, slowly loosing her appetite. She liked Michael. She liked him a lot. However, she was, by all rights, a timid creature hidden under a shell, a front, of mock strength. Especially when it came to men. It was the kind of strength that was just enough to get her through a day. As alone as she oftentimes felt, raising Rosette on her own, she wasn't entirely sure that she was ready to allow another man into her life just yet.

Not just yet.

"Michael… your offer… is extraordinarily generous…" she began, watching his face begin to fall. She looked away, unable to continue observing how her words affected him. "I just need time." Those four words had been said already to Michael. She knew he must be wondering just how much longer he'd have to wait for the woman he was attracted to. It seemed to take a moment for him to gather himself back together. Finally, he simply nodded and lifted his fork again.

"I understand." He said, the same two words he'd spoken before.