Something I've had on my computer for about a year and never got around to posting.

Disclaimer: don't own characters involved


Just a little peek

By Nitte iz


The boy slumped over unconscious. The Prince smirked. He'd set a grueling training schedule and he was surprised that the purple haired teen was able to take it as long as he had. He floated over and after a marked hesitation picked the unconscious demi-Saiyan up. He should've expected as much. After all, Trunks was his son.

His son. The words reverberated in Vegeta's head. Technically, this Trunks was not 'his' son per say, but the son of an alternate him. One who died leaving the boy to be trained by Kakarrot's brat and fight those tin cans. A typical scowl emerged on his face. The teen had lived in terror for years thanks to those Gero-created monsters, fighting and losing to them on a regular basis. He was strong, but unused to Vegeta's coughinsanecough tough training regiment. A necessity he had developed from his own childhood. His hold on Mirai tightened as his thoughts drifted to the Ice-jin who had controlled his life as surely as the androids controlled his Mirai's son. For that, he felt a certain kinship and grudging respect that went beyond blood, for the boy.

His thought wondered to his son in his timeline. He was merely a babe and if all went well, he would live a life untouched by the terror that as yet had marred every other Saiyan and demi-Saiyan's life alike. Cell had to be defeated if only to ensure at least one of his sons' got peace. Vegeta suddenly started, recognizing the emotions his train of thought was stirring. Determination. Hope. Caring. Love. He stiffened. He was becoming soft just like Kakarrot! No! He wouldn't let that happen!

His arm flexed from the urge to drop the almost-forgotten limp purple haired boy back unto the ground. What didn't kill you made you stronger, after all. Sleeping in the extreme gravity would increase Trunks' resistance. Besides why should he bother to take care of the teen? It wasn't his fault the boy had ignored his limits, he reasoned, conveniently overlooking his own tendency to do the same. But scenes flashed before his eyes. Trunks defeating Frieza and his father. Saving Bulma and chibi Trunks. Opposing the androids to make sure his father didn't receive the same fate in this time, as in his.

Before he could think, Vegeta quickly flew back to the rooms clustered around the door of the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. He levitated to Trunks' room and moved to the bed. Gently he laid the unconscious half-Saiyan unto the bed, then scowled realizing his actions. Again the emotions threatened to swamp him. Respect. Love. Pride. Pride in his 'only' son.

He scowled deeper and shot out of the 'house'. He had to train. It was the only he knew to fight or forget those feelings. The only way to stop them from making him weak. But had it been so successful? After all, he still made Bulma his mateā€¦ Images of the blue-haired beauty invaded his brain and he suddenly ached to touch her, heck even argue with her! A whole year without her was unbearable. His eyes widened at the thought. He didn't need her! He didn't need his son! He didn't need anyone and he was not weak! And he'd prove it, by defeating Cell alone. He sped up, flying even deeper into the white void and resumed training with renewed vigor.

Back in the room Trunks stirred. Why was he feeling soft instead of the harsh Chamber floor beneath him? His eyes opened and once taking stock of his surroundings, he bolted upright. His room? But how? His gaze shot to the door, feeling Vegeta's ki in the distance. He relaxed and sunk back into the bed tiredly. "Father," he mumbled before drifting to sleep, a small content smile slipping unto his face.