Authors’ Notes: OoC is not a major part of the story and it is explained later.

thoughts
.+++. time/scene skip
.xxx. perspective change

*****

Beep. Beep.

His nose was filled with the overly clean and bleach-like smell that was often associated with hospitals.

Beep. Beep.

His head felt heavy, it felt like there was a needle stuck in his arm and something was clamping on his index finger.

Beep. Beep.

Trunks pushed himself up with his right – and free – hand and opened his eyes to glare at the noisy machine. The walls were an off-white and he saw his heart rate being monitored on a machine that was hooked to the clamp on his finger. He was in a hospital alright.

He glanced around to get his bearings. On a table near him there was food and the bottle of pills his mother prescribed him. To his left was another bed – already filled by…

Wait was that – “Chibi!” Trunks yelled out and flung off his covers and ran over to the child, ignoring that he had wires connected to him. He glanced over all of the visible wounds – his head was bandaged, his left arm was in a cast, there were bruises on his face, neck and shoulders, and probably much more under the covers.

How could he have let Chibi go! How could he have just allowed the androids to beat and bruise this child! He was supposed to be the defender!

Beep. Beep. Beep! Beep!

What had he done! This was Gohan’s child! He was supposed to be the boy’s protector! Not the other way around! Trunks fell to his knees and slammed his fists down on the guardrails of Chibi’s bed, denting them in the process. How could he have been so stupid! So careless! So useless!

Beep beep! Beep beep!

People rushed in, and among them was his mother. “Trunks!” She yelled and held him. “Settle down!”

He looked at her with guilty eyes. How could he? How could he just simply calm down after realizing his own incompetence. He was no better than Goku right now – rendered useless by some stupid ailment!

Beep beep! Beep beep!

“It wasn’t your fault baby.” His mother soothingly told him. “Goha– Chibi just wanted to help you, and he’s fine. He just needs rest and food. He’ll be fine in no time.”

Trunks blinked back the tears he never knew were there. Chibi would be fine… nothing serious…

Beep! Beep. Beep.

The sound quietly faded into the background as his pulse stabilized. “Now come along and back to your bed. You, or Chibi, won’t be going anywhere until you two are better.”

Trunks silently let his mother guide him back to the bed and he ate the food he was given. “Mother, what happened?”

“Well you charged out, screaming something about Chibi. A few hours later, he’s at my door, carrying you – unconscious – before he passed out.” Bulma sighed and looked over at Chibi. “I think he was running on pure adrenaline.”

“I see…” He said before looking over at the unconscious boy. He remembered flying towards the village, or town, that the androids had or were attacking, the place that Chibi had collapsed. He remembered thinking about the boy’s childhood and… “Ouch…” Trunks brought a hand to his head and winced.

“Trunks? Are you alright?”

“Yeah Mother, I’m fine.” Trunks said and looked back at Chibi. What did Chibi have to do about his forgotten memories? What was that scene with the child that looked just like Chibi with long hair, that looked like Gohan at the boy’s age…

A yellow ship. His mother smiling at him and waving goodbye. Arriving. Frieza.

Trunks eyes widened, and his head was throbbing – but that didn’t matter. Why was Frieza in his memories? Why did he know who Frieza and his father were? Why could he remember their faces when he clearly never met them before – they died before he was born, his mother never took pictures, Gohan never transferred the images into his head. What was going on here, and what did it have to do with Chibi?

“Mother?”

“Yes Trunks?” Bulma responded with a smile.

“How old was Gohan when Frieza attacked?”

“He was seven, why?” His mother said a bit uneasily.

Something wasn’t right here. His mind was drawing blanks and even though it shouldn’t be… even though he shouldn’t be second guessing things, something had to be up and it had to do with his memories. “What month did Frieza attack?”

“Why are you curious about Frieza Trunks?” Bulma said after hesitating. “He’s dead now…”

Why was his mother trying to dodge around his question? She only did that when she was worried that he would have another seizure…

What did Frieza have to do with his seizure – his…forgotten…memories…

His… trip… No, it couldn’t be! It was impossible! Frieza was dead before he was even a glimmer in his parents’ eyes! Especially since Chibi was supposedly involved with those memories. There couldn’t be any connection! Things just weren’t making any sense and his head was killing him. “Wake me when Chibi wakes up.” Trunks said and pulled up the covers. Blissful oblivion was preferred over a splitting headache.

Gohan could hear murmuring to his right and his eyes twitched. What was going on? Where was he? What happened? He moved his neck, but his whole body felt heavy. He just wanted to sleep… Why did he want to sleep? What happened? How long has he been sleeping? He left out a quiet groan as he tried to lift his eyelids – but even they felt heavy.

“Gohan? Err… Chibi?”

Was that Bulma’s voice? Why was she calling him kid? She was right the first time. “Uhnn?” Gohan grunted out and turned his head as his eyes slowly opened. Bulma’s hair was long? “Since when did you get so old Bulma?” He slurred, not really realizing that he spoke aloud.

“Gohan!” Bulma scolded him. “Uhh… I mean… Chibi!”

“What? You’re noisy and my head hurts. Where am I?” He complained and blinked a few times.

“Um… you’re in West City Hospital G-Chibi. I brought you here after you arrived at my doorstep.”

“Hospital?” Gohan wondered. Why was he in a hospital, sure his head hurt, and his stomach felt like he just ate a bomb or something, but why was he in a hospital? Were there not any more senzu beans left? Why did his stomach hurt anyway? Why was the feeling familiar? Sure, it hurt more than when Seventeen… Oh… right. “Oh.” Gohan said with a bit more composure and tried to sit up. However a flare of pain stopped him in his tracks and he brought his right arm (his left arm felt too heavy right now, and it was connected to something) down to hold his stomach as he curled in. “Ahhh!” He moaned out in pain.

“Gohan! Are you alright?”

“Chibi!”

Gohan glanced up to see both Bulma and Trunks at the side of his bed… why were his bedrails all dented… starting down worriedly at him. With a grin he laughed lightly, trying not to aggravate his stomach. “Heh, heh…. Ya know Bulma, you’ve really got to stop calling me that.” However he glanced at Trunks again before he smiled. “How are you feeling Trunks?” Trunks didn’t look hurt… why did he collapse then? Why did his ki drop?

“I’m fine Chibi, I just overexerted myself, and I thought of things that I shouldn’t have. But I think that question should be directed at you, don’t you think?”

Gohan offered a weak smile. “Well, I feel like I ate a bomb that exploded in my stomach and I’m in a spaceship with five times Earth’s normal gravity, but otherwise I’m fine.”

Gohan wasn’t too sure how to respond to Trunks’ expression. Was it disbelief? Was it worry? When he glanced at Bulma, there was a sort of dread. Uhh… he wasn’t supposed to know about that, was he? Oops…

“Chibi… where did you learn about gravity and spaceships?” Trunks asked him cautiously.

“Uh…. Well my mom kinda taught me about them?” Whoops… It seemed like that wasn’t the best option he could have chosen, because now the look on Trunks’ face was angry. Then again, I suppose it’s alright for him to be angry… since he thinks my mom stole me away from him. Kami that sounded weird! “And, and uh… when I saw Chi-Chi a couple weeks ago…. Well I was told some stories of the past…” This was not going good at all! Soon Gohan would run out of half-truths to tell Trunks! He glanced up at Bulma, silently asking for help. Did she know that Trunks and him… the future him… were in a relationship?

“I… see…” The gears seemed to be turning in Trunks’ head, but thankfully Bulma intervened.

“Trunks, why don’t we leave Chibi alone to rest? He won’t heal as fast as his father since he has more human blood in him.” She said as she pushed Trunks over to the bed on his right.

‘Thank you.’ Gohan mouthed to Bulma. Rest did seem like a good option, and one that wouldn’t incriminate him any further.

Trunks continued to stare at Chibi, even after he fell asleep. Something really wasn’t right with Chibi… what seven year old knew about gravity these days? And spaceships? Especially spaceships with the ability to increase gravity?

And he thought about what else was suspicious about Chibi: He could fly, he had access to Kinto’un, he could meditate, do battle projections, ki blasts, he was an adept fighter, he seemed to have an excellent knowledge – something that only schooling could do (whether at home or public, although the likelihood of the latter was virtually impossible) and the list seemed endless! In fact, Bulma usually insisted upon others calling her by her last name, and it seemed that Chibi had the manners that would agree to, or desire to call strangers by polite names. Yet, Chibi called his mother by her name while he was still groggy, and he even called her old – nothing somebody would call a stranger! There was also the case of his own name – how did Chibi know who he was? Did Chi-Chi tell Chibi that too? Why did Chibi know to look under the rock at the training grounds? How did Chibi know where he was? And… how did Chibi know where the androids were, how did he know to look for Trunks? Did the kid know how to sense ki as well?

Everything about Chibi spoke of formal training, it spoke of a life no child could get in these times anymore.

These times… why did those words draw him in?

“Fuck!” Trunks cursed as another rage surged through his head. His arms held his head tightly and he squeezed his eyes shut. Images were flashing through his mind, they were settling in, solving a puzzle that he’d been trying to figure out with only a few pieces. And everything was starting to make sense with the exception of one single piece but perhaps that was forcefully placed in and didn’t truly belong there in the first place…

Authors’ Notes: OoC is not a major part of the story and it is explained later.

thoughts
.+++. time/scene skip
.xxx. perspective change

*****

Gohan didn’t know why Trunks said nothing in context to the avoidance he was giving the prince all week. Perhaps the other thought he had scared Gohan off, but that was not the case. No, Gohan didn’t go near Trunks because it was he who felt guilty, he who felt ashamed – and most likely Trunks would not know his reason (nor the reason he apologized), since Trunks didn’t know who Gohan was.

The child now knew why lying was bad – it hurt people – and while he didn’t lie per se, what he was doing wasn’t much better. He was letting Trunks believe that the future Gohan had cheated on him, (Gohan knew the basics of reproduction) he was letting Trunks be pained by that knowledge, and yet if he told the truth it would hurt Trunks – physically.

Bulma had hypothesized that the blood clot was suppressing Trunks’ memory, and once she talked with her son, he had just lent more support to the cause.

But lying was not the real, main reason he couldn’t face Trunks. No, it was because of what he was going to do. He was going to leave his future love alone in this world, and that just wasn’t right. How could he face the man with that knowledge? How could he face the man whom he would hurt?

Was this how Piccolo felt when he sacrificed his body for Gohan’s? No, it couldn’t be… Piccolo knew that Gohan would revive him, Piccolo knew that he was going to live again.

Why did he do that? It was a question that frequented the child’s mind. Was it because Trunks’ life was in danger? Was it because he was protecting his pupil? Did he just run out of luck? Was he too stupid to realize? Or was it for a darker reason?

Gohan shook his head. It couldn’t be that. Although, he didn’t know how this world would change him over the process of ten plus years. Already, he was changing. Fear – something that seemed to be just a trickle before – had exploded into his life, it broke the dam and he flowed with it, he went where it took him. The rapids were raging, and every time he thought of overcoming the hasty, dangerous waters, he was driven back by another wave of fright. Here he didn’t just fear for his life. No, he already knew that he would die, and that was more terrifying than a ki blast aimed for his heart with a possibility to dodge the deadly blast. No, it was because he knew that he would never dodge that blast in the end, that his death was inevitable, that his time really was limited, that he had the knowledge of where the clock stopped.

And that fear was not the only change – no he had become what he never thought he would become: he became a liar, he became a ghost of the past, he became a toy for the enemy.

So… it wasn’t all that inconceivable that he could walk a darker path…

Ki’s beginning to vanish and weaken off in the distance distracted Gohan from his thoughts and he looked up, towards the source. The androids! He thought and shot up.

Next, Trunks’ ki became to rise, and Gohan rushed over to where the still-sick demi was. “You’re not going Trunks.” He said firmly.

“Like hell!” The Saiyajin prince objected.

“Trunks, you’re in no shape to fight them, you still haven’t recovered from the last battle!” Bulma added.

“What about those people Mother? Am I just going to let them die over a stupid blood clot? I think not!”

And if you die, there will be no fighter that is a natural part of this world Trunks. Gohan thought and turned around. “I’ll go. They won’t kill me.”

“Chibi!” Trunks called after him.

“No.” Gohan turned, determination in his eyes as he stood at the door. “You stay here.” It’s the least that I can do. The child took off in flight and towards the disappearance of ki.

“Oh?” Gohan said with a glare. Control it Gohan! Don’t let the rage control you! He forced down the building anger, pushed it down and tried to hone it. Then, he took the key and unlocked his powers, letting it envelope him – but not dominate him. “Disappointed are you?”

“I don’t want to fight blind rage. Directed rage, yes. Now that’s amusing.”

Gohan appeared behind the android and threw a punch. He could do this! Focus! Focus! “I’m not as wild as before.”

He saw Seventeen smirk as he caught the fist. “We’ll see how long that lasts.” He challenged and returned the punch, but Gohan caught it – and almost winced.

The man – cyborg – was still playing with him, but he owed this to Trunks. He hurt the other, he left the other, and now, he would play hero for the man whom he was destined to love.

Feet and arms were aimed, dodged, caught, and connected. They had only damaged one party though – Gohan could not land a single blow on the artificial human. And while two blue-coloured eyes often met, confidence and amusement were only in one pair, while the green-tinted ones began to droop in exhaustion and pain.

Seventeen was just playing, he didn’t put any effort, and here Gohan was, slowing and weakening. How could he be so strong? Gohan was a Super Saiyajin… and yet!

“Sorry to interrupt Seventeen, but I think you’ve played with your dolly long enough. This town is getting boring.”

And yet… he couldn’t even hinder the other sibling while she went on her own personal rampage! He was pathetic! He was weak! He was useless! Then, he heard what she referred to him by and it was the final spark that lit his already-short fuse. “D-Dolly?” His eyes narrowed and he charged at Eighteen.

But she was already ahead of him as she dodged his raging fists.

“Blind rage.” She simply stated before letting her fist connect with Gohan’s stomach – why was it always there – and knocking him out with a new surge of pain.

Sure Chibi said that the androids wouldn’t kill him, but Eighteen was the more logical and persuasive one of the pair. If she got it in her head that Chibi – Gohan’s child – had to die, sooner or later the boy wouldn’t have a chance.

“Trunks?” His mother asked at his lack of movement and exclamation. “Did something happen to G-Chibi?”

Trunks was accustomed to his mother’s slipups. Apparently even Chibi confused his mother with his appearance. The teen nodded though. “Yeah, his ki just plummeted.” He couldn’t stay here! He needed to go and help Chibi! “I’ve got to go! Chibi needs me!”

“Oh no you–” Bulma protested as her son bolted for the door and she shook her head. “You never listen when it comes to those androids…”

Trunks sped toward the place that the androids were. Even while Chibi was busy with one, there still were ki’s vanishing. Chibi didn’t know, he was too weak to battle both and too boring to watch.

The boy just didn’t know what the androids were capable of, what their actions were focused on, what their supposed emotions were. They were cruel, sadistic, bored. Their definition of fun was torture, and a game was somebody who had the strength of a Super Saiyajin. Chibi was just a child, how could he possibly know? How could he…

No, there was no such thing as a child anymore was there? Gohan had lost his childhood just before he turned ten and Trunks couldn’t remember when he was last fearless, carefree, and amused by the simple things. What was Chibi’s experience? Did he still remember when he ran around without a care in the world, when he giggled at a butterfly on his nose, when an android was just a big scary monster that never really mattered to him but it scared those who took care of him?

Trunk’s body halted in mid-flight as another rage surged through his head. What did Chibi’s life have to do with his forgotten memories? The prince glanced down at the desolated rocky plains and the image of the strangers and the Gohan-Chibi-persona flashed again. The pressure and pain in his head only increased as he closed his eyes. It had just made everything worse though since the picture became real. He felt like he was a person watching them, that he was sitting and waving at them and they were waving back. He was smiling at a younger version of his mother before he glanced at the Gohan-Chibi-person – who was approaching him slowly – with a thought: I will save you.

STOP! Trunks demanded, and that’s exactly what his body did.

It was the last thing that had really disheartened Gohan. Twenty years ago, people would not be cowering behind corners but running around frantically for children, siblings, parents, friends… but now life was so valuable one couldn’t risk it for another. This world was just so sad…

How could Trunks bear seeing this each time he was defeated by the androids, how could he continue to do this?

Wait… where was Trunks’ ki? Back at Capsule Corporation Bulma was alone, and he couldn’t find the other’s ki anywhere! Sure, Trunks normally hid it and he had it toned down, but it was never like this! Gohan could always feel the slightest hint! There were only two possible things: Trunks was dead, or he was close to it.

No! No! Not him too! Not again! This couldn’t be! This world needed a warrior! Trunks was the sole carrier of the Saiyajin genes, he was the only who could hope to rival the androids! Gohan wasn’t from here, he couldn’t… he didn’t want to…

Did this mean he had to stay here?

Did this mean that he could never go home?

Did this mean he could never see his mom?

His Dad?

Piccolo?

Gohan’s body trembled with emotion. No! No! Calm down! Calm down! Look for Trunks! Find him! He told himself as he held his head and muted out the sounds of terror that those around him were making. He had to find Trunks! Find Trunks and figure out what to do then.

Gohan stood up and raised his ki. He flew the route that was the shortest, and the most direct to Capsule Corporation and he watched the ground.

Trunks had to have left the building – from what he could tell about the man’s attitude – towards the androids. Especially after he would have felt Gohan’s ki drop… If he had flown towards the city, Gohan had to ensure that he kept an eye on his surroundings. Especially if the other had run into the androids…

A thought occurred to Gohan: what if Trunks had gone else where and he was wasting his time here? What if the time he used dawdling along the route here could have been used in saving Trunks’ life elsewhere? What if he lingered here while Trunks died…

Gohan bit his bottom lip. He still… he still had to go to Bulma and ask her where Trunks went, and if, if he somehow missed Trunks here, Gohan didn’t think he could live with that guilt-free. He already killed Trunks’ heart, he couldn’t kill the man’s body too…

No! He had to check! He had to make sure! He had to hope! He had to hope that if Trunks ran into the androids, they left him hanging to life, that they created enough observable damage. It was perhaps depressing that he wanted that fate for Trunks, yet it would be easier. Even if it was so, Trunks would have significant wounds to for his ki to drop this low. But, in case that wasn’t, Gohan kept his eyes and senses peels for any sign of Trunks and his ki.

The only thing that mattered to Gohan now was that Trunks was alright. Nothing else fazed him. Gohan could barely feel the wind against his face as he flew, nonetheless anything else. Trunks was the only thing in his world. Trunks had to be found, Trunks had to be alive.

If he wasn’t, well Gohan didn’t know – to both scenarios.

He looked for purple, for black, for blue, for yellow. Where was the man who defeated Frieza? Where was the last Saiyajin? Where was their prince – King? Where was Trunks?

“Trunks!” Gohan yelled, praying the man was still conscious out there and could respond in some way. “Trunks!”

Why wasn’t he responding! Didn’t he know that he was Earth’s only hope! Sure he thought Gohan was his own son but wouldn’t that mean he’d need to train Gohan? Stupid Trunks! Just stay at home! Just get better! Just live! “Trunks!”

What was that? Gohan turned his head as he felt a very faint and very low ki off to his left. “Trunks!” Gohan called, but this time out of hope instead of desolation, and flew towards it.

He found the man, lying almost peacefully by a river. Gohan panicked and flew down. He placed his ear against the other’s chest and heard the heart beating, the lungs inhaling.

But both were shallow. He glanced around a gauged the distance towards the Capsule Corporation. Kinto’un would be too slow. He had to fly.

The boy closed his eyes and concentrated on his box before opening it and letting out the power, dying his locks, tinting his eyes.

He picked up Trunks and gently slung the older man over his shoulder. “Hang on Trunks.” He said as he floated up into the air. “I’ll get you home.”

He flew full speed to Capsule Corporation and kept his senses honed in on the other’s ki.

When he got to the door, he let out a sigh and knocked. Gently he moved Trunks into his arms. Bulma, she would take care of – Gohan’s eyes widened as his body finally caught up to him. The pain hit him in another wave, the exhaustion took over, and he was lucky that the door opened because he couldn’t control his body as it collapsed in rebellion against his recent actions.

Authors’ Notes: OoC is not a major part of the story and it is explained later.

thoughts
.+++. time/scene skip
.xxx. perspective change

*****

Gohan yelled as Trunks’ body started convulsing and ran towards the man. What was wrong? What was wrong! “Kinto’un!” Gohan screamed out. What was he supposed to do! Why was Trunks twitching! He shouldn’t be twitching right? Gohan jumped on top of Trunks and moved his hands and legs to hold down the flailing limbs, but the man was too strong. In his panic, he charged up and he transformed into a Super Saiyajin and it worked! He held down Trunks firmly, that was until Trunks’ body had the same idea and his hair turned golden and he threw Gohan off. Then, the prince’s ki began to rapidly flash on and off and his hair had yellow and purple pulsing through it in horizontal streaks.

And Gohan watched with wide, horrified eyes. What was he supposed to do? Was Trunks going to be alright? The single minute that it took for Trunks’ body to calm down seemed to take forever and when the moments of stillness started Gohan finally approached Trunks again. “Trunks? Trunks?” He asked quietly.

And the prince did respond, but nothing coherently. The words were slurred and half formed. Gohan bit his lips. I need to take him to Bulma… she would know what happened to him. “Hold on Trunks, stay awake, I’ll be right back!” He said and ran around, tidying up their camp before he ran back over to Trunks. “Trunks, you still with me?”

“Who? What?”

Gohan sighed in relief. At least he’s forming words again. He moved and picked up Trunks – whose hair had reverted back to its natural lavender colour. “I’m taking you home.” He explained and floated up onto the orange cloud that had come down from the skies. “To Capsule Corp Kinto’un.” Gohan said and held Trunks against him just like when he carried Trunks on the cloud before. Even though he had the strength to fly, he was too small to carry Trunks the entire way – in a way that wouldn’t possibly damage the other anyway.

“Gohan? Why’re yousmall?” Trunks said, but his words were slurring together. Still, it was much better than before. “Why’reyou Super Saiyaji-?”

“You call me Chibi, Trunks.” Gohan reminded him.

“WhydoI call yaChibi? You’re older denme.” The lavender-haired man giggled. “You’re my sensei, why call yaChibi?”

There most definitely was something wrong with Trunks. He was giddy – an emotion that Gohan had never seen in the man before. Then within that pair of blue a look, that look, reappeared and it froze the younger demi. It didn’t seem to matter to Trunks though, as he leaned up, his face approached, and his lips’ target was becoming obvious. Gohan snapped out of his reaction quick enough to avoid the touching of their lips.

Instead, Trunks kissed his cheek, and it seemed that he wouldn’t give up. He leaned up again, tilted his head, but Gohan avoided it again. Then, Trunks’ lower lip stuck out as he pouted. “Oh com’on Gohan! Why wuncha let me kissya?”

Let him kiss me? What…? W-Why? The idea confused Gohan. The man that was half on his lap and half on the cloud was intent on an answer though, and Gohan did not have an answer that he could give. Perhaps he could state a fact and make it seem like an answer? He didn’t want to but… “You’re sick.” He said. “Or I think so. I’m taking you home so Bulma can make sure.”

“Aww…” Trunks whined. “Fine!”

And Gohan’s arms had to secure their grasp on the older demi as Kinto’un suddenly decided it wouldn’t support the son of Vegeta anymore. “Kinto’un!” Gohan whined. This was going to be a long trip.

“Bulma.” Gohan said as he supported Trunks at the door. He knocked again. “Bulma…”

When the woman – complaining at the impatience of kids these days – opened the door Gohan almost had to support another person but she caught herself on the doorframe.

“G-Gohan?” Her voice shook in fear, disbelief, and shock.

“I’ll um… explain later, but something is wrong with Trunks. I think the androids did something bad to him this time.”

Why did the words this time seem so depressing to Gohan?

“Okay, just come on in you two, we’ll run some tests on him.” Bulma said and lit a cigarette.

“But I don’t wanna have tests run Mother!” Trunks whined.

She almost lost her smoke as she gaped with wide eyes at her son and then at a child Gohan.

“He only started acting like this after he started twitching.” Gohan supplied the answer to the question that she was more than likely wondering.

“He had a seizure! Kami!” She exclaimed before pulling Trunks along behind her.

A seizure? I’ve heard of those… was that what that was? Gohan wondered as he followed Bulma into her lab.

When all the tests were run and done, Bulma sighed with a puff of smoke. “He still has signs of a concussion – however that isn’t what directly caused the seizure. Trunks has a blood clot in an artery in the brain. The damage to his head probably caused both the concussion and the blood clot. All I can do is give him some medication to help wear it down. I don’t see anything too serious with it unless it doesn’t wear down but hopefully it will – it shouldn’t take too long. We just need to let his Saiyajin blood kick in and he’ll be fine.” Then, she turned over to Gohan. “Now, could you perhaps explain who you are? You’re a dead-knock for Gohan when he was a kid, and you’ve even got the Saiyajin blood.” She said and touched a golden lock.

“Oops… I guess I forgot about that.” Gohan said before he returned to his powered down. Then he looked over to the unconscious Trunks before back up at Bulma. “I suppose I can tell you. I look like a kid Gohan because I am a kid Gohan.”

“What? That’s impossible! The dragon balls are just rocks unless – did the Namekseijins revive you? No, that can’t be. Did you confuse your words, that would mean that Gohan…”

Gohan slapped his hand to his face. “I know what I said Bulma. I’m a seven year old Gohan. I… I think I got caught in the time portal Trunks made when he came back here.”

Bulma ran a hand through her hair. “That klutz…”

“Is there… is there any way I can go back?” Gohan asked quietly.

“I’m sorry to say, but not at this moment. However, in about five months you will be able to. The time machine requires a lot of energy to charge.”

Gohan’s eyes widened. Five months? Five months! He had to wait another one hundred and fifty days? In this time? In this world? No… He didn’t want to be here any longer! He wanted to go home! He wanted to go back to the time where it was safe, to where his mother yelled at him for getting twelve-times-twelve wrong, to where she forced him to do calligraphy instead of train, to where Piccolo was alive, to where his dad was! Gohan hugged himself as he slid down the wall. Would he live that long?

If he hadn’t met the androids, Gohan may have lasted that long, but now they knew who he was (or so they thought) and he knew who they were. How could he last that long, knowing that they were looking forward to their next meeting, that they wanted to beat him to an inch of his life only to toss him away, just so they could do it all over again?

How did the people of Earth live this way? How did Trunks? Perhaps what had scared him the most though was that in five months and three years, he’d have to meet them again, meet them for the first time, and watch them kill everybody he loved. And then start everything all over again…

Kami, his head was killing him. At least he was on a bed. Wait, a bed? Trunks shot up and glanced around. He was in his room but why? The last thing he could remember was being in the training grounds with Chibi. No… that wasn’t it. Trunks flushed slightly as he remembered that he treated Chibi like Gohan again, that he tried to kiss the child, that he acted like a child. Why did he act like that? He had to apologize.

As the prince got out of bed, he noticed a glass of water, a bottle of pills and a note with instructions and an explanation.

I have a blood clot in my brain? I had a seizure? Kami… no wonder why my head won’t stop hurting. Trunks sighed but took the mediation and downed the water. He then sensed for Chibi, and noticed that he was in the kitchen while his mother was in the workshop. The prince headed towards the kitchen – he was hungry anyway.

“Chibi… I’m uh… sorry…” He said awkwardly at the doorway, not really looking at Gohan’s son. He heard nothing, no shuffling, no grunts. Was the boy asleep? Trunks glanced over to the mini-Gohan to see him staring off into space. Yet, his facial expression seemed torn, lost, sad, and fearful. Trunks understood. “Alright, I’ll leave you alone. I can understand–”

“No.” Chibi said firmly but continued off into a murmur. “It’s not that. You don’t have to go.”

If it wasn’t him, then what exactly had Chibi so down? What made his voice sound so monotonously sad? The lavender-haired man sat down next to the boy who looked at him with those big black Son eyes. They were filled with a lost hope – fear – and Trunks just wanted to hold Chibi close and tell him that everything would be fine.

“The…” The boy hesitated. “The way you phrased things Trunks, were you and Gohan… together?”

The man stared at Chibi. How could he tell the boy that his father was in a relationship with another man, that he had loved another person who was not his mother? “W-Wha? Oh, no, there’s–”

“The truth Trunks.” Why did Chibi sound so much like his father when he found Trunks lying? Why did he seem to have the same grip Gohan had on him?

The prince looked down. “Yes, Chibi, yes we were together. I loved him, I still love him.”

“What about Gohan?”

Here Trunks flinched. “I-I don’t know anymore…” Yet at the look Chibi had on his face, that would not be enough – he wanted facts, not opinions. Well, kid deserved to know… “He told me he loved me.”

The boy looked down at his hands again in what seemed contemplation, although instead of on his lap, they were chest level and palm up. “I’m sorry Trunks.” He said solemnly and walked away.

It all made sense now – why Trunks seemed to hate him, why Trunks looked him at the way he did, why Trunks did the things he did… but Gohan didn’t know what to think of it. Gohan was only seven years old, and yet his life’s story was being laid out right in front of him. He was being told that he would lose his father, his friends, his limb, and his life; he was being told whom he would battle, train and love. And now, Gohan didn’t know who he was. Was he the Gohan who slept beside his father in eternal sleep? If not… then who was he? He was the Gohan who stepped into the future, the Gohan who achieved Super Saiyajin earlier – yet was he also connected to the Gohan here? Did what he do now change the future – the present – the past? Was he going to be the Gohan of this now? Kami, Gohan didn’t even know how to refer to time anymore and this was that but also that over there! What was what? Gohan just didn’t – couldn’t – know anymore…

—

Chapter 8: Fault

—

The plane blasted across the clear sky, making a hideous noise of it. Bulma wished now that she had chosen something better to get her to Roshi’s island, but she couldn’t deny that this prototype was a fast son of a bitch. It was designed to fly faster than the speed of sound, which she had assumed would be a silent flight. Apparently not. At least, not inside the cockpit.

Hopefully this way she wouldn’t get left behind when everyone else started flying off, though. If she could actually keep up and not need to be carried for once it would be worth the busted ear drums.

She had known all of those guys long enough to know that was exactly what they were going to do—fly off as soon as she showed them the picture from her fax machine. The vehicle that had clearly been lying abandoned for a few years, which was identical to the time machine Trunks had used.

This was all starting to seem like a script from a sci-fi movie. Androids, time travel, talking heads and—Bulma almost laughed out loud—aliens. It was too perfect. She should write a book or something. The main character could be a stunningly beautiful young woman trying to balance her obligations as the heiress of a global corporation with the stresses of occasionally saving the world with her alien friends. “Hey, I’m on to something here.”

But first things first. There was Roshi’s island. Bulma disengaged the autopilot—she preferred to land manually—and did a circle around it, aiming for what passed as the old man’s front lawn. Her plane kicked sand up everywhere, but it wasn’t like anyone was outside to be bothered by it.

The plane was as horrifically noisy about landing as it had been for everything else. By the time she opened the top and climbed out of the cockpit, everyone had come outside to greet her. Well, everyone except for Gohan. Maybe they had left before he got home? She hoped not, poor kid.

“Finally!” Krillin called as she climbed down. “We’ve been waiting for you, Bulma.”

What? How? Nevermind. “Hi. I’ve got something to show Trunks. It’s important.” And upon saying that she realized that she had left the picture on the seat. Sighing, Bulma climbed back up into the plane. “Hold on.”

“‘Kay, but listen. We have a plan to beat the androids. We just need…”

“Hold on, will you? I said this is important.” The stupid picture had fallen under the seat somehow, but she managed to get it without having to do anything that would require her to punch Roshi after.

“Bulma! I think the end of the world is…”

“Ah!” Bulma lost her balance—heels may have been a bad idea—and fell from the top of the plane. After a few seconds she realized that her neck wasn’t broken and that she hadn’t actually hit the ground. Opening her eyes, she saw the face of her future son looking down at her. “Thanks, sweetie. Here, take a look at this.”

—

How many impossible things needed to happen in one fucking day?

Trunks stared down at the picture while Bulma explained to everyone how she had gotten it. What the Hell? Another time machine meant that he wasn’t the only one here from the future…and worse, it meant that whoever it was had to be from further in the future than he was.

That was definitely the time machine his mother had built, or at least the same model. And his was the first one. So when had this one come from?

He had to assume it wasn’t a friend, either. Clearly it had been here for some time, and nobody had come to give him helpful advice. Which meant that someone was trying to stop him from saving the world.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” It was a blindingly obvious thing to say, but he did anyway. “Who…” Trunks trailed off, looking up at the group. “I have to go check this out.”

“I’m going with you.” His mother announced. “Otherwise the curiosity will drive me crazy.”

“Wait, Bulma.” Krillin broke in. “What about the Dragonballs, and the controller? Don’t you have stuff to do?”

But Bulma would not be deterred. “Whatever, we don’t need both, do we? You and Yamcha go to my place and get the radar. You can look for the Dragonballs yourself. It shouldn’t take too long.”

“I…”

“Come on, Krillin. There’s no point in arguing with her.” Yamcha smacked Krillin’s shoulder as he walked past to the water’s edge. “Besides, it’s better than sitting here doing nothing, right? Let’s go.”

Krillin sighed, defeated. “Fine. See you guys.”

“Be careful, boys.” Roshi called as the two lifted into the air and were gone. “Alright. We’ll stay here with Goku. You two get going too.”

Chi-Chi sniffed. “Couldn’t have waited ten more minutes? Lunch is almost ready, and now I made way too much.”

“Sorry, Chi-Chi. Maybe when we get back.” Trunks said. “Let’s go.” Bulma was climbing into her noisy plane again. He prepared to take off himself.

“You never said goodbye to me.”

Shit. He couldn’t very well leave without telling Gohan, not after earlier. “Hold on, I’ve just got something quick to do.” And he took off behind the house, ignoring Roshi’s cries that there was a bathroom inside.

“Gohan? I just wanted to…Gohan!” The boy was curled up at the edge of the water, waves lapping his face. Trunks quite literally flew to his side. There was no way he was sleeping. He wouldn’t have fallen asleep here, almost in the water.

His hand clutched to his chest and the fact that he was barely breathing were enough for Trunks to leap to a conclusion. Trunks hadn’t ever seen this himself, but there was no question what it meant.

I did this. What exactly he meant by that Trunks wasn’t sure. But he knew it was true, somehow. This was his fault. Now Gohan would die, because there wasn’t enough medicine. He had only brought back enough for Goku. For one person. If he tried to give some to Gohan, both of them would die. “Gohan…”

Wait. It came to Trunks suddenly, and he cursed himself for taking so long to remember. There was more medicine! He stood up, Gohan in his arms. The boy cried out as he was moved, a sound that made Trunks wish he was deaf. Reaching into his coat pocket was a bit of a pain, but he managed to get his capsule case.

“Trunks, what’s…oh my goodness, Gohan!” Bulma had come around the house, and was now running towards him. From her face, she seemed to have an idea of what was happening.

He fumbled the case open and seized the right capsule, letting everything else fall to the ground. “It’s okay.” It really wasn’t, but he had to say something. “I’m going get him help.”

“Trunks, are you sure that…”

“There’s no time to be sure!” Trunks clicked the capsule and tossed it behind him, his time machine emerging in a puff of smoke, the top open and waiting for him.

To Bulma’s credit, she either saw that there was nothing she could do or decided that there was no other way. Both were true. “Be careful.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Gohan let out another cry of pain as Trunks leapt into the time machine, clutching his chest even tighter. He closed the top, punched the machine to life and coaxed it up into the air and, with one last look down at his mother, hit the buttons that would take him home.

Maybe there would be consequences to taking someone to the future with him. Trunks didn’t care. There was no point in saving the world if Gohan had to die for it again.

—

The best part of time travel was that it was instant. Bulma didn’t have to sit around worrying for days or weeks about whether Trunks would come back injured, or come back at all. He could travel forward to three seconds after he’d left and that would be the end of that.

But that was also the worst part of time travel. After a full minute had gone by with no return of her son, Bulma was already starting to fear the worst.

She forced herself to go inside and put coffee on. Standing in the doorway and fainting from hunger and low blood sugar would do nothing. At the very least she needed breakfast. She was getting too old to be staying up all night like that. She pulled the carton of eggs from the fridge and set it carefully on the counter. It was hard to get real eggs these days, but it was one thing that she just couldn’t eat the synthesized version of.

Trunks had probably just made a mistake programming the machine to return. Hit a five instead of a four, maybe. Or maybe he’d entered PM instead of AM. She hoped that she wouldn’t have to go get him. She’d built a second time machine, just in case something happened to the first; maybe she should plug it in and start charging it after all. Just in case.

Bulma didn’t realize that her hands were shaking until she dropped an egg. “Damn.” Seizing a cloth from the countertop, she crouched down to clean up the mess. She was being silly. It had only been a few minutes. Gohan and Trunks had used to disappear for days fighting the androids. Everything was fine; she just needed to be more patient.

Trunks had better be ready with a good reason for being so late when he got back.

A sudden banging from outside made Bulma jump. “What was that?” She asked nobody in particular. Then her brain caught up. Outside, where the time machine had left from. She scrambled to her feet and ran from the house. As she did it crossed Bulma’s mind that there shouldn’t have been a banging sound. The time machine was noisy, but not that loud. Something must be wrong with it.

Expecting to see a flaming ruin, Bulma was almost disappointed when she emerged from the house. The time machine was intact, though judging by the way it was skewed on the ground it had fallen from the sky. Smoke was billowing out from the inside, but it certainly wasn’t totalled.

So preoccupied with the machine was Bulma that at first she didn’t see her son climbing out. When her attention shifted to him and she the expression on his face, the need with which he was looking at her, and then what was cradled in his arms, Bulma felt cold.

“Oh, Trunks, what have we done?”

—

“I’m home.” Gohan called out as he came into the house. Nobody answered. “Mom? Dad? I’m home.” Where had he been? Gohan didn’t remember. But he was home now, and that was what mattered. “Hello?”

The house was silent as a grave. Wondering what was going on, Gohan wandered down the hall and turned the corner into the kitchen. “Mom?”

Chi-Chi was sitting on the floor beside an overturned chair, smiling down at a bundle of blankets in her arms. “Shh, Gohan. You’ll wake up the baby.”

“Mom, why are you on the floor?” Gohan approached her, stopping just a few feet away. The baby was wrapped up so tightly that he couldn’t see anything but blankets. “Come on, get up.” She needed to get up. Gohan didn’t know why, but she couldn’t sit on the floor, that was bad. That was…

“Alright, here, take the baby for a minute.” Gohan instinctively cradles his arms as the bundle of blankets was thrust towards him, and staggered forward a bit when he felt…nothing. He looked down. The blankets were empty. There was no baby.

Chi-Chi clicked her tongue. “Now look at what you’ve done, Gohan. You go out all day and then come home to make a big mess all over my clean floor!” She was still sitting down, and when Gohan looked down past his empty arms at her, he saw the puddle of blood that she was sitting in, slowly spreading outward.

“Mom! What’s wrong?” He dropped the blankets and crouched downward to help her. Chi-Chi smacked him.

“Gohan! How could you do that? You killed the baby! Now I’m alone again and it’s all your fault!”

“What? No, I didn’t…Mom, there wasn’t a baby…”

“All your fault!” Chi-Chi screeched. “I only want what’s best for you and you ignore me every chance you get. Get out! Out!”

“Mom, I’m not…”

“OUT!”

Gohan ran from the kitchen. What was going on? He was scared, and he didn’t know why. He stopped in the doorway, turned back. Chi-Chi was picking up the blankets that he had dropped, now soaked in her blood, and was whispering, “It’s okay, mommy’s here now. I won’t let them hurt you again. It’s okay.”

He raced the short length to his room, yanked the door open and slammed it shut behind him. His breath came in short, fitful gasps. Something was wrong. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.

“Gohan?” Goku was sitting on Gohan’s bed, holding the jacket Trunks had given to him. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be out training.”

“Dad! Something’s wrong with Mom! She’s…”

“Shh, Gohan.” His dad said in that reassuring voice he used. “Don’t worry about your mother. She’ll be fine. You need to go out and train or else you’ll just be in everyone’s way when the androids come, like always.”

“What…Dad, you need to listen to me!”

The sound of tearing fabric filled the room as Goku rent the jacket into pieces. “You’re not doing what you’re supposed to, Gohan. Put it in the box. Here, there should be room in this one now that it’s empty.” He tossed the scraps of fabric that had one been a coat aside and pulled from somewhere the little cardboard box that it had been kept in. “Go ahead, just put it all in here. It’ll fit, don’t worry.”

An explosion rocked the house. “What was that?”

“The androids. I told you that you needed to train, didn’t I? Now it’s too late.”

“No!” Gohan ran from the room into the hallway. It was filled with smoke and he couldn’t see anything. He thought he heard the sound of fire somewhere.

He tore down the hall and ran outside. Gohan’s front yard, the surrounding fields, the forest and even the mountains were all gone. He was standing in a rocky canyon littered with the bodies.

Piccolo, Vegeta, Krillin, Yamcha, Tien, Chiaotzu, Dende, Master Roshi, Bulma, his parents…everyone he had ever met in his life was lying dead on the ground. Directly in front of him stood the androids, Seventeen holding up one more body. Trunks.

“Ah, he finally shows up.” Eighteen said, putting her hands in her pockets and sauntering forward. “And here I thought he was just going to hide until we went away.”

Seventeen threw Trunks down; the other half-Saiyan landed immediately in front of Gohan, his body completely broken. “Just what does he think he’s going to do, do you think? There’s no one to die for him this time. They all already have.”

Gohan backed up involuntarily as Eighteen took another step. His heart raced so hard he thought it would fly from his chest. He was going to die. His hands flew behind him, searching for the doorknob back into the house, where he would be safe. Nothing. The knob, the door, the house were gone. “Don’t…”

“Don’t what?” Eighteen asked playfully.

“No…” Tears and snot ran down Gohan’s face as she got closer and closer. If she caught him…if she caught him he was sure he would die. He had to get away. “Don’t hurt me…”

“You can’t get away, little boy. There’s nowhere for you to run.” Both androids laughed.

“No!” She was right, but Gohan ran anyway. He had to get away. He didn’t want to die. He was scared. He ran as fast as he could, until the canyon and the androids and even the world were behind him. He ran until he was running through darkness, and even then he kept running. He had to keep running. It was the only thing he could do.

But even in the darkness he knew they could find him. He could hear their laughter, echoing everywhere.

Gohan ran, waiting for the darkness to swallow him.

—

“He’s not getting better.”

Bulma tightened the cap on the bottle of medicine and put it and the syringe she had used to get the liquid into Gohan’s mouth on the bedside table. “It’s not magic, Trunks. The medicine will take a few days to work.” She looked down at Gohan and pursed her lips. “Now, tell me what’s going on. I wasn’t there when they fought the androids the first time, so I don’t know all the details. But I’m pretty damn sure I would have heard about this if it had happened.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what happened.” Trunks took a second to try and calm himself. For all the help that did with Gohan laying in bed dying right beside him. “He just got sick. I guess I should have known. He was acting weird. I should have known he wasn’t feeling well. But I didn’t.” But he hadn’t. All that had happened, and it hadn’t once occurred to him that it was because Gohan was sick that he was feeling so awful. So stupid.

“Trunks, stop. You couldn’t have known this would happen. We don’t really understand how time works. Maybe saving Goku made this happen, or…”

“Goku!” Trunks stood. “Goku never got the heart virus!” All of the sudden, this seemed important.

“What? What do you mean he never got it?”

“Until this morning. That morning, I mean.” It was hard to get used to the idea that everything he had done that day was almost two decades in the past again. “It didn’t attack him until he started fighting.”

Now Bulma stood as well, started pacing the room. “You told him to train. Maybe doing that held it off for a year? Gohan must have picked it up then. They were training together?” Trunks nodded, though he couldn’t remember if Gohan had said anything about that. Of course they had trained together. “Hm. That’s probably what happened. It would have needed prolonged contact to get through a Saiyan’s immune system. To be honest, I still don’t understand how it ever got to Goku in the first place.”

“Should…” Gohan made a soft whimpering noise and Trunks had to sit down beside him again. “Should I bring back more medicine? For everyone else? They’ve been around Goku now, and they’re just human, except for Dad and Piccolo.”

“No, the virus isn’t contagious anymore by the time it gets to this point.” Bulma waved a hand at Gohan. “The only one to worry about would be Chi-Chi, but we tested her after Goku died; she has a natural immunity to the virus.”

“She’s immune to it?”

“Most people are.” Bulma paused and smiled very briefly. “We were all terrified of this virus when we first heard of it, but it’s actually not that impressive. Ninety percent of the population is immune to it. The reason why it was so scary was that there was no cure for it back then and anybody who did get it died.” Now she frowned in thought. “Maybe I will give you another bottle, just in case Yamcha or one of them is susceptible. Most people with immunity are also carriers, so Chi-Chi might give it to one of them. You’re immune to it, though. So am I.”

“Okay.” Trunks didn’t really care if he was immune to the virus. He would rather he got it a thousand times than Gohan. He was way to young to suffer this much. To suffer at all.

“Oh!” Bulma snapped her fingers at Trunks, face creasing in sudden worry. “How’s Goku doing with the medicine, do you know?”

“Fine, I think.” Gohan was squirming in the bed, as if in pain. Which he probably was. “I think Chi-Chi said he was feeling better.”

“Thank heavens.” Bulma whispered. Trunks heard her, though, and turned his head. “I gave you the wrong bottle.” She explained. “An experimental version of the medicine. It was made to work faster, but…”

“But?” Trunks had a feeling he knew what the ‘but’ was.

“But it might also just not work at all. It’s experimental, like I said. But if Goku was feeling better with it…it’s probably okay.” She sounded uncertain, but Trunks let it drop. He had more important things to worry about right this instant, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t made bigger mistakes than handing out the wrong bottle.

“I’m going to go make breakfast.” His mother announced. “Are you hungry?”

“No, thanks. I’ll sit up here with Gohan for a while.” He shouldn’t have to be alone like this.

“I’ll bring something up for you.” The door opened and closed quietly, and Trunks was left with Gohan.

He reached out and took the boy’s hand. It was sweaty and Gohan tried unconsciously to pull away, but Trunks held on. “You’re going to be okay. You’ll be fine. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re not dying again.”

—

Bulma got all the way to the top of the staircase before she had to sit down and rest, to let the adrenaline fade from her system. What the Hell was going on? Sometimes it was hard not to feel as though the universe was conspiring against the two of them.

As awful as she felt for poor little Gohan, she was more worried for her son. Trunks had loved Gohan, their Gohan, more than anything. That love seemed to still exist for his younger counterpart.

Truthfully, that concerned Bulma more than the heart virus, even with the fact that she was guessing about the dosage of Gohan’s medication since it wasn’t designed to be given to children. She hoped that Trunks would be able to realize emotionally what he knew intellectually—that this Gohan wasn’t his, and just as important, that this Gohan was just a child.

Bulma frowned. She was not a stupid woman. Trunks might think that she was in the dark about just how far his relationship with the other half-Saiyan had progressed, but she was perfectly aware. She had realized pretty quickly that Gohan’s feelings for Trunks went far beyond fondness, and it had always been obvious that the feeling was more than mutual.

She couldn’t pretend to have been happy when she discovered that their relationship had been sexual—not hard; she had washed both of their laundry, after all—and when Trunks was barely twelve, to boot. But she had moved past her initial motherly desire to dismember Gohan and feed him to the androids and seen that her son was happier than he had ever been. If there had to be someone who she would let Trunks play child molester with, she supposed Gohan was the best person; someone she knew would never hurt him. Besides, Trunks had grown up far too fast in so many other ways, it was almost unfair, in a way, to force him to stay a child in that respect.

But Trunks couldn’t have that again with this Gohan, and was dangerous for him to think he could. Bulma had known Gohan at that age. He’d been smart, independent and caring, but still very much a child. Not at all as grown up as Trunks had been at ten, despite all of his battles.

She just hoped that Trunks realized that he wouldn’t be able to reforge that bond with someone else, even if it was the same person. If he hadn’t yet figured that out he would eventually, and having Gohan yanked away from him after being dangled in front of his face would devastate him all over again.

And there was nothing she could do about any of it, at least not without making things between her and her son very uncomfortable.

Sighing, Bulma stood. Breakfast. She needed food, and coffee. It would take several days, at least, for Gohan to recover, and maybe another week after that before he would be ready to go home. Some time before she could expect things to go back to normal, or her version of it, anyway.

“The trials of being the smartest woman left alive…” Bulma sighed to herself as she made her way down to the kitchen. “And here I used to think space travel was hard…”

—

Gohan ran through darkness for hours, or maybe days. Maybe minutes. He had no idea. He didn’t get hungry, or tired, nor did he stop being scared. He just ran into infinity.

Abruptly, after some endless time, Gohan became aware that he was coming up on something in the dark. He slowed down as he approached. The darkness didn’t get any less dark, but suddenly there was just another person there, clear as day, sitting on the nonexistent ground in front of him. “Trunks? What are you doing here?”

The baby babbled and started to crawl away. The darkness melted around them both, leaving them in the little clearing they had sat together in not long ago in front of the ocean. “No, Trunks! Don’t move, it isn’t safe!”

Trunks ignored him and kept crawling, right to the edge of cliff they had sat on. If he went over…”Trunks, stop!”

He did, turning his little head to look back at Gohan and smile. And as soon as Gohan took another step toward him, Trunks raced forward and plunged into the air. “Trunks!” Gohan raced over to where he had been, but the landscape vanished and the darkness came back; Gohan wound up leaping at nothing, smashing into a ground that didn’t exist. “Trunks!” He pounded at the invisible barrier, willing it to shatter again, so he could get the baby, but the darkness remained resolutely solid.

“Wow, Gohan. Is that the only thing you’re good at? Letting people die?” Gohan started and snapped around to stare at Trunks, not five feet from him. His Trunks. Gohan coloured when he realized he had thought of the man that way. He was holding baby Trunks on his hip, which it took Gohan a second to notice. What he did see right away was the expression on his face, the sneer that matched the tone of his voice perfectly. Trunks had never looked at him like that before.

“Well, are you going to answer or just sit there like a baby?” Little Trunks raised a pudgy hand and hit the air in Gohan’s direction as big Trunks spoke. Even the baby was looking at him accusingly.

“I…” Gohan didn’t know what to say. Somehow, that this was coming from Trunks made his brain freeze up. “I didn’t…” This was all wrong. “I didn’t mean to.” Completely wrong.

“You didn’t mean to let your dad die? You didn’t mean to let Nappa kill Piccolo? You didn’t mean to sit there while Frieza killed Dende and not even try to help? You didn’t mean to pretend that Goku was healthy when you knew he was sick? You didn’t mean to wait until we were all on the verge of death before coming to ‘help?’” Trunks looked down at him just as coldly as the androids had done. “You were hoping you’d get to watch us all die, weren’t you? You wanted to see me die.”

“No! I don’t…I don’t want anyone to die.” The tear tracks on his face felt like fire. Why was Trunks doing this to him? He was the one person who was supposed to…supposed to…supposed to love him.

“But you never try to stop it.”

“I did!” He had tried, on the highway. He had done the best he could. The androids had been too strong.

“You didn’t. You could be strong enough to stop the androids by yourself. You know that, but you didn’t try to be. You didn’t train hard enough to be able to stop them. You never let yourself get stronger than them, in all those years we fought them.”

“I-I…” What? That hadn’t been him, had it? He hadn’t fought the androids with Trunks. He…

“You didn’t really want to stop them. You want the world to end, don’t you? You want him to grow up in Hell, just so you don’t have to fight.” Trunks lifted his baby self off his hip and held him out in front. “You even want him to die. A baby.”

“I…I’m sorry.” What else could he say? Gohan felt utterly defeated. Maybe Trunks was right.

“And I’m sure all the people who have died because of you are happy to hear that you’re sorry! That doesn’t make them any less dead!”

“I’m sorry! I’ll try harder. I’ll get strong enough to fight. I’ll save…”

“It’s too late. You can’t fix it now.” The darkness disappeared for just a moment. They were standing in the ruins of what had used to be a city, the skeletons of buildings barely standing upright, cars flipped over and burning, bodies everywhere…

Scrambling to his feet, Gohan looked around wildly. It looked like the city the androids had attacked on the island. But there was nobody anywhere, at least not anyone alive. People and…parts of people were everywhere, not moving. “What…why are you doing this?”

“Because you need to see. This is the world you’re making, Gohan. The world you want.”

“I don’t want this!” He spun to face Trunks—he didn’t remember turning—and the destroyed city, the fires, the corpses, all vanished. They were in darkness again. Baby Trunks was gone. “Where did he go?”

“He’s dead, just like you wanted.”

“Trunks? Trunks, where are you?” Bulma’s voice was faint in the void, but her footsteps echoed loudly.

Trunks smiled in a way that made Gohan step back. “Oh, there’s his mother. Time for you to explain why you let her son die.”

“No, Trunks!” The man vanished just as so suddenly he might never have been there. “Trunks! Trunks! I’m sorry! I don’t want—”

“Gohan? Have you seen Trunks?” He still couldn’t see Bulma, not properly, but a shape was starting to become clear, as though she were on the other side of a screen.

Gohan couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take any more people hating him. He needed to go…needed to be somewhere else. Somewhere safe. Somewhere where nobody could find him, ever again. He wasn’t aware of starting, but soon he was running even faster than before, away from Bulma’s voice and the spot where Trunks had been, away from everything. Away from himself.

“Trunks, I’m sorry.”

—

Gohan was moaning. Trunks would rather have gouged his own eardrums out than listen to that, but he sat beside the bed and held Gohan’s hand. “It’s alright, Gohan. You’ll be okay.” His words were useless and weren’t even convincing himself, but he said them anyway. He wanted to give Gohan more medicine, but his mother had forbade him from touching the bottle, saying that it would be too easy to overdose Gohan and kill him.

He had expected some improvement after five days. Expected that, at the very least, Gohan wouldn’t sound like he was in such terrible pain anymore. Wouldn’t sound like he was dying. Bulma had told him not to worry, that the medicine took some time. Trying not to worry was like trying not to exist.

He would die if he lost Gohan again, Trunks knew. He just wouldn’t be able to live with that pain again. If he died, at least he would be with Gohan again…

“Trunks…” His heart nearly leapt out of his chest; he knocked the chair over standing up. He was waking up!

“Gohan! Gohan, it’s okay. I’m right here! You’re okay!” Finally. That Gohan was finally going to be okay, finally stop being in pain, made Trunks want to jump right through the ceiling with happiness. Or kiss Gohan until he couldn’t breathe, but he had more sense than that, sadly.

A moment’s waiting and observation, however, killed his joy. Gohan didn’t wake up, didn’t really change at all. In fact, just as Trunks sat back down under the weight of his own disappointment, Gohan let out his loudest cry yet and clutched at his chest hard enough that Trunks was worried he might break his own ribs.

He was just on the edge of going to the door to yell for his mom to come when the boy just seemed to collapse into the bed, falling back into a more normal, and Trunks hoped less painful, sleep. The long white shirt they had put on him—Bulma didn’t think he should be wearing his only set of clothes for days on end, even if he was in bed, and the clothes Gohan had been wearing when Trunks brought him to the future were folded neatly on the beside table—was wrinkled and sweaty from being gripped so hard.

Closing his eyes to stop himself from crying, Trunks stood again and turned to face the room. Gohan’s room. It just wasn’t fair. Why did everything have to happen to Gohan? Why couldn’t he ever just be a kid? Just be a person?

He didn’t bemoan the loss of a regular life in himself; even without it, he’d gotten to grow up with his best friend, his big brother and the love of his life. But Gohan didn’t like fighting, even when it wasn’t life and death. Trunks opened his eyes and looked around the room. There was hardly anything in it; they hadn’t changed anything after Gohan had died, the older had just not had much to begin with.

The only personal touches Gohan had had were some pictures hanging on the wall or sitting in frames on the small table in the corner. One was his parents’ wedding picture, one of him and his family before Goku had died, there were a few group shots with all of Goku’s friends before the androids had attacked, and the rest were all of Gohan and Trunks, or just Trunks by himself. He was so young in all of the pictures, just a kid. It just wasn’t fair.

Not that it was coming as news to him that the world was unfair, either. Trunks turned to sit back down with Gohan.

And leapt to his feet before hitting the chair at the sound of an explosion from outside. Another one followed a few seconds after.

“No, not now.” Trunks leaned over the bed to peer out the window. He could see smoke rising just on the edge of his vision. In theory, there were a dozen reasons for an explosion to happen in a city. In reality…”Why does it have to be now?”

“Trunks.” The door banged open and his mother walked in, sounding out of breath. “They’re in the city.”

“I know.” His voice hitched and he looked down at Gohan. Somehow, miraculously, the androids had never attacked Capsule Corp. But if they chose to today…”I’m going.”

“I’ll sit with him.” Bulma came over put her hands over his. “He won’t be alone, I promise.”

“Okay.” Trunks shook his head. “Right, okay.” One last look at Gohan and he turned away. Even if they didn’t attack Capsule Corp., he still couldn’t just let them destroy the city. “I’ll be back as soon as…”

“We’ll be okay until then.”

“Yeah.” Realizing his was stalling, Trunks made himself walk to the door. “Bye.” He didn’t wait for an answer, took the hallway at a run to get his sword and left the house as fast as he could.

He had to stop them from destroying the city. From hurting anybody. “Be safe, Gohan.”

—

Sighing, Bulma sat. She hoped Trunks would be okay. He wasn’t in the right place mentally to go off and fight, but it wasn’t like he had a choice. She looked down at the reason for her son’s distraction. He was laying there peacefully, oblivious to everything.

He wasn’t getting any better. After all this time, the medicine should be starting to have some effect on him. The experimental version of the drug she’d accidentally had Trunks give to Goku would work—if it worked at all—in a few days, but she was giving Gohan the stable version. Yes, it took up to two weeks to work on a human, but even then there was a steady increase in the condition. For a Saiyan, even a half-Saiyan, it should work faster, in less than a week. Gohan should have been, if not cured, at least conscious by now.

A sudden cry from the boy tore through the silence in the room, punctuated by an explosion outside. Gohan writhed in obvious pain, clutching at his chest as though he wanted to grab his heart to stop it from hurting him anymore.

Bulma glanced at the clock. It was too early for him to have more medicine. But…he wasn’t getting better. She grabbed the bottle from the bedside table and twisted the cap off.

Gohan cried out again as she worked the syringe into the bottle, but it wasn’t just a shout of pain this time. “Trunks…I’m sorry…”

Freezing inside, Bulma squirted the medicine into Gohan’s mouth. “Drink this, Gohan. You’ll feel better.” She wondered why everyone did that, talked to sick people who couldn’t hear them. Almost as though they thought words could change what would happen.

Maybe it was true, she thought. Words were powerful things, able to wound and heal. She thought it was better that Trunks hadn’t heard the ones Gohan had just said. The last thing he needed was something else to blame himself over, and if he knew that Gohan was dreaming about him, that was exactly what he would do, whether Gohan died or not.

Bulma almost dropped the bottle when she realized what she had just thought so casually. She wasn’t that horrible a person, was she?

Sitting on the bed beside him, Bulma took Gohan’s hand. He was so small. Just like he had been at his father’s funeral, and when the androids had attacked. So young. “You need to get better, kiddo. You fought the Saiyans, you flew through space with me and fought Frieza. You fought so much. You have to fight some more, Gohan. You can’t die. You just can’t.” If he died, Trunks would die. She was sure of that. The words hung there uselessly, and Bulma certainly didn’t feel them changing the course of the future.

For a long time she sat, until long after the explosions had stopped, until after night had fallen, staring hard at Gohan, willing him to live. He had to get better soon. If he didn’t in the next day, she knew, chances were he wouldn’t get better at all.

—

“I’m bored.” Eighteen announced, casually kicking Trunks in the ribs and sending him flying into a nearby car.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Eighteen. We’ve only been here for twenty minutes.” Seventeen watched Trunks pull himself to his feet. “And I let you go first and everything.”

“I don’t care. It’s not fun to kick him around anymore. He’s not even trying to beat us.”

Trunks was having about as much luck as usual in fighting the androids. That was to say, neither of them had broken a sweat and he was covered in cuts and bruises. As they talked, he moved in an attack that he knew was futile, disappearing and reappearing to the left of Seventeen, blasting the android with as much energy as he could.

Before the energy could even make contact with Seventeen, Eighteen was there knocking it away. She responded with an energy wave of her own that sent Trunks flying into the only building that was still standing on the street. At least he had bought enough time for the people to escape.

He heard nothing but crashing for a few seconds, but when it finally settled, Eighteen’s voice reached him again. “…wish we hadn’t killed Gohan. At least he was fun to hit.”

“Hey, Eighteen, you were the one who wanted to kill him, remember? I told you.” Rage stirred in some part of his mind, but most of Trunks was focused right now on not losing consciousness.

“Shut up.” Eighteen strode over to where Trunks lay in the remains of the building and put a foot on his chest. Trunks coughed in response. “Listen, prettyboy. I don’t want to play with you anymore. Next time I see you I’m going to kill you, so if you want to keep that pathetic little life of yours, I suggest you get stronger before then, you hear me?”

Trunks tried hard to ignore her, but she just stood there with one foot on his ribcage, looking down at him like she was expecting an answer. Gohan, Trunks knew, would have said something clever in this situation. Trunks could only nod his head weakly.

“Good.” She stepped off his chest and took to the air. “Let’s go, Seventeen. I’m tired.”

“Whatever you say, sister.”

He had done it; gotten them to leave the city. Well, they were leaving, anyway. Trunks felt so useless right then that he didn’t even try to get up, just lay there in the rubble while everything got dark around him. Gohan, I can’t do this without you.

Thinking that made him remember that Gohan was lying in bed waiting for him to come back. Trunks tried to get up, but he couldn’t, and the effort of it brought him the rest of the way to unconsciousness.

—

He was tired; couldn’t run any more. Gohan lay on his stomach in the darkness, trying to breathe. He fallen down some time ago and not bothered to get up. He couldn’t do it. It didn’t matter how far he ran, he would never get far enough away. So he just lay there.

If he stayed in one spot long enough, Gohan was sure, he would just disappear, and then nobody would be able to find him. That idea scared him, but maybe it was for the best. Better than always having to run from everyone, that was for sure.

For the first time it occurred to Gohan to wonder where this place was, how he had gotten here. He remembered fighting the androids by the highway, doing his homework with Trunks and then yelling at him later, and then going home and…wait. He had gone home? Gohan didn’t think so. His parents were at Roshi’s house. Then, that hadn’t really happened? But he remembered it, more clearly than any of the other things. Maybe going to Roshi’s had been a dream.

Something about the his recent memories just didn’t add up for Gohan, but he was interrupted before he could figure it out.

“Giving up? I’m not surprised.”

“Go away; you’re not real.” He didn’t know what made him say that, but as soon as he did Gohan realized it was true. Trunks wasn’t really here talking to him. But that meant…

“I don’t need to be real to tell the truth.” Not-Trunks knelt beside him. “And I won’t go away until you do. None of us will.”

Gohan found the energy to look up and saw that they were in his front yard. His mom was there standing beside an empty cradle and his dad was lying under a tree clutching at his chest. All his friends were laying around the yard, all injured and dying.

He made himself stand and look around at all of them. It should have been awful, terrifying, but Gohan hardly felt anything seeing the whole thing . “This isn’t real.” He said quietly to himself. It was true, he was sure of that. Everything was fake.

“Does it make you feel better to say that?” Chi-Chi demanded, turning away from the cradle to face him. Blood dripped down the front of her skirt and her face was white as death. Gohan flinched and shrunk back despite himself as she glared at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Your brother is still dead!”

Gohan felt his resolve melt away. He took a step back, away from his mother, and he bumped right into someone else. “S-sorry.” He stuttered, turning.

“Sorry doesn’t bring me back to life.” Dende said, a hole burned clear through his heart. “It doesn’t make it stop hurting.” The little Namek boy didn’t sound any different than his usual cheerful self. That somehow made it worse.

“B-but, you’re alive! You came back!”

“But I didn’t forget. Who didn’t save me. Who didn’t even try.” Piccolo came from somewhere to join them, unhurt but with a halo over his head, and Dende smiled up at Gohan’s teacher. “Neither of us has.”

“I didn’t…I couldn’t do anything…”

A scream tore Gohan’s attention from the Nameks. Goku was writhing under his tree, clutching at himself as though to pull his own heart out. “Dad!”

He ran to his father, but Trunks grabbed his shoulder halfway there. “There’s nothing you can do for him now; it’s too late.”

“No, I have to help…”

“You don’t want to help. You want to stay home and hide under your bed until everything is safe. Well, guess what? You can’t. You dad’s going to die, and it’s your fault.”

“No…I…don’t want…”

“It doesn’t matter what you want. Your mom didn’t want your brother to die before he was born. Your dad doesn’t want his own heart to kill him. None of your so-called ‘friends’ wanted to die protecting you. It’s time for you to accept responsibility.” The hand on his shoulder was painful, like ice.

“I didn’t want any of that!” Gohan sobbed. Tears forced his eyes shut and his breath hitched as he tried to catch it. “I don’t want anyone to die! I don’t want…”

“I didn’t want you to leave me alone!” Trunks snarled, pulling him around. “But you did anyway! Do you know how much that hurt me?”

“I’m sorry! I’m—” Why wouldn’t Trunks just let him talk? Let him explain?

“I don’t want you to be sorry! Look at what you’ve done to everyone you know! All of them hurt because of you! If it wasn’t for you, they’d all be happy! They’d all be alive! If it wasn’t for you, the androids wouldn’t have killed everyone! If it wasn’t—”

“It isn’t my fault!” Gohan screamed, falling to his hands and knees. His shout seemed to silence the world and he drew in his first clear breath in what seemed like years. “It isn’t my fault.” He repeated, just to hear it again. Blinking the tears from his eyes, Gohan looked around the yard.

Like a hammer it had hit him. He couldn’t control pregnancy, or diseases or alien tyrants or androids. He couldn’t control battles and evil and alternate universes that he didn’t live in. He couldn’t control what happened to other people. “It isn’t my fault.”

Suddenly wanting to laugh, Gohan climbed to his feet again, faced Trunks, but spoke loud enough to let everyone hear. “You can’t blame me for things I didn’t do. You can’t make me blame myself.” Trunks was almost smiling, now.

“Ah, how nice. Gohan had a grown-up moment.” A voice like winter drifted towards him and he spun around to face Seventeen, Eighteen right behind him. “Too bad it came too late.”

Gohan squared his shoulders and glared right at the androids. “Go away.”

“Oh, you poor boy.” Eighteen said, coming around from behind the other android and walking right up to him. “You think you can control us just because this is your dream? We control you, in here.” She poked him in the chest. “Through your fear.”

“I’m afraid of you.” Gohan admitted. He could feel it in his whole body, creeping through him like worms under his skin. Every fibre of his being just wanted to be away, somewhere safe. But he stood there, unmoving. “You scare me a lot. But I won’t let you hurt me anymore.” And he punched, his fist smashing right through the android’s stomach like it was made of water. “I won’t let you hurt them again. Get out of my head!” Eighteen gasped and exploded all at once, and Gohan let shot an energy wave at Seventeen, who was destroyed just as immediately.

In fact, the whole world suddenly seemed to be exploding. The yard disappeared in pieces, like someone ripping up a drawing. Everyone just faded away, and in few seconds he was alone with Trunks as everything disappeared. The other half-Saiyan just knelt in front of him, tears shining on his face. “I knew you would figure it out, Gohan.” And Gohan felt himself pulled into a hug that ended almost as soon as it began; Trunks vanishing with the rest of the world, leaving Gohan alone in…

His bedroom. He was standing in his bedroom as though nothing had happened. His bed, dresser, desk, everything was just like it had been that morning.

Except for one new thing: a big standing mirror in the middle of the room, which Gohan was not reflected in. His image was there, but it wasn’t his reflection. Where Gohan was standing, the him in the mirror was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a small box in front of him and a cracked glass bottle beside him.

The not-reflection broke the mirror rules even more by speaking. “You did it.”

“Did what? Wait.” Something occurred to Gohan, the only solution. “You made all of that, didn’t you?”

Mirror-Gohan looked up from the box at him and nodded his head. “It was your dream; who did you think made it?” He looked younger than Gohan actually was, maybe like he had looked a few years ago. “I’m sorry.” He added.  ”Are you mad?”

He felt like he should be, but he couldn’t summon the anger. “Why?”

“I had to see if it was safe.” He looked back down at the box again. “To open this.”

Gohan sat in front of the mirror; it didn’t seem polite to keep looming over the other him. “What’s in it?”

“Only what you put there.” And Mirror-Gohan reached down and pulled the top off.

“It’s empty.”

“That’s ’cause you took everything out of it. You can’t hide everything in here, you know. Look, it’s not that big.” Mirror-Gohan lifted the box to demonstrate. It was indeed pretty small, maybe big enough for one of the Dragonballs to fit inside.

“Okay.” Gohan found himself at a loss for words, but his not-reflection smiled at him and suddenly looked much older. “What’s in there?” He pointed at the bottle sitting to Mirror-Gohan’s right.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll keep it safe for you until you need it.”

“But…what is it?”

“You already know.” Mirror-Gohan stood, and a door appeared behind him. “It’s time for you to go.”

Gohan looked behind himself at his own door. “But…”

“Go. It’s waiting for you.” Mirror-Gohan made a shooing motion with his hands.

He did as he was told and headed for the door. With his hand on the knob, he stopped again and looked back. “What’s waiting for me?”

Mirror-Gohan tilted his head and smiled. “The world. Well, and him.”

With a return smile that Gohan thought used his whole body, he pulled the door open.

It was dark when he opened his eyes, and the shock of going from dream to reality made Gohan take a huge breath when he opened them. Where was he?

He sat up, saw the form of a person, half-lying on the bottom of the bed just under his feet. “Trunks?” He whispered. No, it looked like…”Bulma?” But she was older, way older.

Gohan got up on his knees look out the window beside the bed, the only source of light in the room. A city stretched out in front of him, but something seemed wrong about it. As he watched, the sunrise crested at the far end of the cityscape, lighting up the world. Gohan’s breath caught all over again. The buildings…they were all destroyed. What was going on?

Trunks. Some irrational part of his brain told him that he needed to find Trunks, to make sure he was okay. He climbed carefully out of the bed, trying not to wake up Bulma, and realized that, for the first time in what seemed like days, he didn’t hurt at all, anywhere. Looking down at himself in wonder, Gohan couldn’t help but notice that he was only wearing a long white shirt. Oh, well, he could find clothes later. He had to find Trunks first.

He could feel the man’s energy. Just had to go to him. Crossing the room slowly in the dark, Gohan eased the door open and stepped out into a hallway. This was definitely not his house, but it did seem familiar.

No matter. He had to find Trunks. As long as he could do that, he would be fine.

—

Grey darkness, the kind that came just before dawn, hung over the city when Trunks woke up with a coughing fit. Almost every part of him was on fire, and the spasming of his larynx wasn’t helping.

After he finished inhaling a few pounds of dust and then hacking them back out again. Trunks opened his eyes, saw the sky. He was alive.

“Gohan!” Sitting bolt upright—bad idea; it made the rubble shift underneath him and threw up more dust—Trunks looked around at the pre-dawn greyness and tired to figure out how long he’d been laying there. All night, at least. Maybe even all day after that. He had to get home, get to Gohan. He shouldn’t be alone.

It was a whole battle to get to his feet, but once Trunks managed that, the rest wasn’t too hard. After taking a minute to orient himself—he didn’t think he had a concussion, fortunately—he took off at a run that turned into flight as soon as he could manage it.

The sun just started to come up as he reached Capsule Corp. Seeing that his window was open, Trunks headed for it rather than wasting time with the door and stairs. His room was just down the hall from Gohan’s.

He did pause for just a second to toss his sword on the bed and strip his bloody jacket off, but before he had time to decide if he should change or not, Trunks heard the door creak open.

He turned—and his heart nearly stopped. The little silhouette in the doorway could only belong to one person. Trunks felt his insides freeze over. What was going on? Was this a ghost, a hallucination? Was Gohan…

And then the form was running towards him and Trunks dropped to one knee instinctively. Gohan leapt at him, wrapping small arms around his torso, face pressed right up to his chest. Trunks hugged back just as hard, his head resting on top of Gohan’s. He was awake. He was alive.

Gohan pulled away from his just a little bit to look up at him, and as Trunks looked down, the whole world caught fire.

It may just have been the sunrise coming through the window, painting the room all red and gold, but more likely it was Gohan, pushing himself up on tiptoes to press their mouths together. Everything seemed just so much more real all of the sudden, but at the same time it was all completely insignificant.

He kissed Gohan back and for the first time in a long, long time, Trunks truly believed that everything was going to be alright.

—

End chapter

—

Authors’ Notes: OoC is not a major part of the story and it is explained later.

thoughts
.+++. time/scene skip
.xxx. perspective change

*****

Gohan woke up to the sound of somebody vomiting and the fresh stench of stomach acid. Why was it that Gohan always woke up to the scent of blood, bile, or other bodily fluids? The sad thing was that he was accustomed to it. The seven-year old pushed himself up and glanced over at the lavender-haired prince who was puking yet again.

The sun said it was about noon and Gohan noticed that he was on his make-shift bed. His stomach growled and he glanced over to his surely-cold bowl of soup.

Wait a minute! Gohan thought and glanced back at Trunks. “You moved me?” He realized.

The man turned around to look at Gohan apologetically before nausea took over and he turned back to vomit.

Is my cooking that bad? Gohan thought with worry. As Trunks continued to be sick, the younger boy thought back to the reason why he passed out. It was almost as if he had changed into a Super Saiyajin again. But why? Was it because he was angry? That made no sense, it wasn’t even really angry, it was nothing compared to what had unlocked the ability.

“Chibi, I apologize.”

Gohan turned back to Trunks again. He what?

“I’m sorry for treating you like that, it wasn’t fair. I was just taking my anger out on you.”

Gohan smiled. How could he stay mad at that? It was mean, and it wasn’t fair, and Gohan didn’t know why Trunks got mad, but he apologized so it was fine. “It’s alright.” Gohan said and his stomach growled again.

Trunks stood up with a wince and he walked over to his jacket before he pulled out the capsule cases and tossed a capsule over to Gohan. “Catch. Mother gave me about a month’s worth of food. I was supposed to go training after I battled the androids.”

Gohan caught the capsule before activating it, “Why do you continually fight with them even though you know you’re going to lose?” He asked sadly, walking over to a fridge that looked very similar to the one Trunks used in the past for drinks.

The man tossed another capsule over to a nearby rock and walked over to it and opened the fridge that appeared. His head tilted at the contents before he moaned in pain and a hand clenched at his head. Quickly, Trunks closed his eyes, grabbed a drink at what seemed to be random and slammed the door of the fridge shut. He sat down and leaned against the rock before he responded, his voice a bit strained. “If I can distract the androids enough for even a child to run away, if I can amuse them enough to stop them for a few hours, days, or even weeks, it’s worth it. I can buy time.

Gohan had his own reaction to the appearance and contents of the fridge so he did not really notice Trunks’ reaction. He remembered reaching into that same fridge, grabbing one of those cans, and knocking another over accidentally. His eyes zoned in and low-and-behold it was there, on its side like Gohan left it. Yet before he could think on it, the man had responded to his question.

And the words spoken dampened Gohan’s spirits. How could Trunks live like this? How could the world have come to this? One day, Trunks would not be so lucky, one day the androids would become bored of him and they’d kill him. Just as they killed Gohan – his persona in this time. “That’s… That’s just so sad…” Gohan muttered. This world was so sad, so dangerous, so scary.

“But it’s the only thing that I can do.” Trunks said and winced before he clutched his head again. “Hopefully this training will make me stronger, and maybe I’ll be able to destroy them at last.”

Gohan looked at Trunks. How he wanted to help him, but… but… if he could prevent it would it not change Trunks’ time as well? Did it work that way? If so… right now nothing is changing, then I have to get stronger if that is the case, and I have to get back to my own time to change it!

“Chibi, I’ve noticed that you can change – that you have obtained Super Saiyajin. I did not think that was possible, yet you proved me wrong. However, you cannot control it right now.”

As Gohan grabbed a meal kit from the fridge, he sat down and looked at Trunks in curiosity. “I can’t control it?” He asked. Seventeen said something similar – blind rage. Yet that was all he learned from Piccolo, he learned how to use it. Wasn’t that enough? “What do you mean?”

“Once you unlock the ability you must be able to lock it in a box, you must be able to open it at will, use it and direct it. You cannot let the rage control you.” Here, Trunks opened his can and took a sip out of it. “This morning, when you were mad at me, you triggered it. Yet, you were not prepared, you were exhausted, and so you fainted. Master Gohan had told me that once you reached Super Saiyajin you have surpassed your limits. In order to control these limits, in order to make new limits you must train. He also said that even if you train, there still are drawbacks: you become emotional, there is an increased desire to fight, however I think our human blood dilutes that…”

Gohan didn’t even have to hear what Trunks said next, he already knew, The Son could never forget his father’s expression, his blue-green eyes, his voice on Namek. They were harsher, almost angry. It was as if his dad was a completely different person. Even though Goku had worn his heart on his sleeve, even though his father was a happy person, he wasn’t an emotional one. While Vegeta displayed anger and pride, Goku displayed happiness and humour. All other emotions seemed to be nonexistent – fear, sorrow, disappointment…

“So Chibi.” Trunks continued. “You must learn to direct that anger, that rage, you need to channel it. Mediation helps.” Here, the prince smiled. “It is perhaps the only thing I can show you right now in my state. Once my ribs heal I can help some more.”

Gohan shook his head. “I already know, and I also know battle simulations. So tell me, Trunks, what must I do?”

“Trunks?” Chibi asked him. “Are you sure you’re fine? I mean even your ribs healed but you’re still puking.”

The child was still a mystery to him. He knew so many things that he shouldn’t have learned without training and schooling, he knew a lot of terms and knowledge that would be almost impossible for somebody his age to attain now, and it mystified the prince. After another lurch of his stomach, Trunks rinsed his mouth out with water. “My concussion hasn’t healed yet, that’s all. Brain matter probably takes longer to heal.”

For the most part, Chibi was quiet. Often, however, he stared at Trunks, and it was starting to unnerve the man. Did he… did he scare Gohan’s kid when he mistook Chibi for his father? He hoped not!

“My d-” Chibi started but shook his head. “Never mind, I forgot about that.”

Trunks dismissed the child’s slipup. Instead, he sighed and glanced up at the sky. Trunks could feel Gohan’s ki in the child as he mediated. It was unnerving. How could their ki be almost identical? If Trunks didn’t know any better, he would have sworn that ki was Gohan’s.

He knew that he could not push himself too hard with the concussion still unhealed – especially since his symptoms didn’t seem to let up. The androids must have gotten him good. His memory had not returned either – the memory of where he went last month. His partially empty fridge of drinks also seemed to be connected to those memories, because whenever he thought about where those drinks went…

Ouch! Why was his vision swimming? Trunks glanced over at Chibi and an image was superimposed over and around the boy. His hair was longer and looked just like Gohan’s when it wasn’t cut for awhile. There were people whom he didn’t know personally standing around the boy, ones that he knew the names of but only because of the pictures in his living room. There was Goku, Krillin, Tenshihan, Chiaotzu, Piccolo, Yamcha, Puar and even his father – Vegeta. His mother was there too, and her hairstyle was like how his grandmother used to have her hair and she was standing near Yamcha. Oh Kami! It felt like his head was splitting in two, it felt like his body was on fire! Then he felt, and saw nothing.

Authors’ Notes: OoC is not a major part of the story and it is explained later.

thoughts
.+++. time/scene skip
.xxx. perspective change

*****

How could he have forgotten that! Kami… his chest hurt and it wasn’t because his ribs were broken. The wounds that had been opened before but closed by memory were torn anew. So, so this was the kid that the androids encountered! This was the boy formed by his teacher and some… some girl. This was the boy who held Gohan’s genes, this was the sole survivor of the Son line! He wouldn’t go so low as to call the child a bastard though, seeing that he, too, was one. His eyes narrowed as he glared up at the boy he learned to call Chibi and saw as he froze, as the child had withdrawn his hand looked away guiltily. He knew it. Their looks, their mannerisms, their ki, their smell, and even their taste was the same. “How old are you?” He deserved to know, he deserved to find out if Gohan had truly betrayed him.

“Seven…” The boy said meekly. “I just turned seven.”

Trunks winced, he felt tears come but he forced them away. He remembered back then, when he had just turned nine a week prior and Gohan was turning eighteen in a few hours… that was when Trunks had given Gohan an early gift – his first kiss. That was when they passed the line from mentor-and-student, brothers, father-and-son, best friends, to boyfriends. And unless the woman had an unusual carrying time, there was no way that Gohan could have remained loyal to him.

“Trunks… what’s wrong? Did I bind your ribs wrong? Did I knock them out of place? Is it your concussion?” Chibi asked as his eyes wandered Trunks’ body for injuries. He reached out to help.

No! He couldn’t allow it. This kid! This kid was the proof the Gohan wasn’t loyal to him! Was it because Gohan didn’t have enough faith in him? Was it because he thought that Trunks would fail? The Saiyajin prince slapped the small hand away and continued to glare into those big, black eyes. “Don’t touch me!” He yelled, but his ribs wouldn’t let him ignore them anymore as he yelped and fell forward. Fuck they hurt!

And yet, his words were not heeded as the boy lifted him and moved him to lie against the rock again. He glanced at the stone set and realized Gohan must have shown the boy it, and… why was the boy wearing Saiyajin armour? Did Gohan have some stashed away somewhere? Then, those cursed small hands grabbed a pot before collecting some water and placing it over the fire. Next, he used the knives to cut the partially-cooked meat into the pot before he turned around.

“I’m going to get some herbs.”

Chibi’s voice sounded neutral, and if he was hiding anger behind those lips, he was hiding it well, because Trunks couldn’t tell.

What was up with Trunks! Gohan glared at the herbs that he went out to pick. After guessing that he was his own son, Trunks started to treat him like he was the dirtiest piece of trash on an immaculate lawn! Then, when Gohan displayed concern, the man slapped his hand away! How could Trunks be his student and yet direct so much anger towards whom he thought Gohan’s son was! If was as if the prince hated Gohan, and hated him for being his own supposed son! Yet Trunks even admitted to missing him! How? Gohan couldn’t understand it! If Piccolo had a son, Gohan wouldn’t treat the boy like Trunks was treating him, especially of Piccolo was dead. No, Gohan would cherish the child, raise him, and tell him stories of his father…

But as the Son carefully plucked the herbs (they never tasted good if he yanked them from the ground) his anger blinded him from whatever obvious truth there was.

When Gohan returned, the pot was beginning to bubble and his irritation at Trunks was hidden. “It’ll be done in five minutes.” Gohan said but avoided the other’s gaze. He would not look into the anger that was in those blue eyes.

And it seemed that Trunks decided to be silent and ignore him as well. Good, that suited Gohan. The boy sprinkled the herbs into the water and stirred it. He knew that the soup wouldn’t taste great (he was supposed to let the herbs sit in the water, bring it to a boil and add partially cooked meat in last) but he forgot about Trunks’ stomach earlier. He should have made the man eat solid food and let him puke it up – but that was rude and his mother always told him to mind his manners no matter what. Though, he reasoned, it probably didn’t apply to people who were trying to kill him, but since Trunks wasn’t trying to that exception didn’t work. Instead, the man just hated Gohan for being his own child – for being something he was not. It was infuriating but manners must be minded. As long as he remains quiet anyway…. Gohan thought with a glance over to the man.

…Who was simply looking at the pot of food. Oh well, it was better than glaring at him anyway. Gohan glanced over at the food and deemed it ready. He dipped one bowl in before giving it, and a spoon, to Trunks. Next, he grabbed another bowl – Trunks probably made his own since Trunks knew about the stone set, and Gohan only made one in his time – and filled it with more soup.

“Hey, you’ve got my bowl.” Trunks said spitefully.

“And you’ve got Gohan’s.” Gohan said and used the spoon to begin eating, but after a spoonful he continued. “You said you missed him so you can use it.”

“Did I give you permission to use mine?” The blue-eyed man snapped back.

“Then let me use Gohan’s.”

“No, make your own!”

Gohan’s eyebrow twitched. “I–” He started but realized I did would just confuse Trunks. “I own what is Gohan’s.” He said instead. It was the truth, and even to Trunks’ ears it would be sound.

The blue eyes iced over in pure hatred. “You! You think you can waltz in and take things? Oh hell no! Just because you’re his son doesn’t entitle you to everything! You need to earn it brat!” Here, Gohan saw a smirk that Trunks had inherited from his father. “And I know of one thing that was – is – his and you’ll never get it!”

Gohan’s eyes flowered. “I have to earn it? Earn a bowl? Earn his power? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” He knew he was letting his temper get the better of him but he didn’t care.

Trunks laughed. “Everything Chibi.”

Here, Gohan put down his bowl and stood up. “And your respect is on that list too? I suppose saving your life isn’t enough huh? What is it that you have against me anyway? Or is it that you’ve got something against Gohan? Is it because Gohan died? Is that why you hate me?” However, something felt wrong. He couldn’t control his anger, it was slipping from his grasp. What was wrong! Even his mouth wouldn’t stop! “I don’t understand you! I wouldn’t dishonour my mentor’s memory by treating his son like garbage!” Why was Gohan’s body glowing and his hair standing up? Why was his ki rapidly rising? Why couldn’t he control it?”

“What…”

Why was Trunks surprised? Why was he getting dizzy? Why was he…

Trunks stared at the boy. He had… he had just turned Super Saiyajin. But how? He’s only a quarter Saiyajin! Yet, now I do know that he’s Gohan’s son… a mere human could not do that, and Gohan and I were the only Saiyajins living when the boy was born. Trunks pushed himself up into a standing position – slowly and solemnly. Even so, it still hurt but it was something that he could deal with. He had dealt with worse.

The kid’s words also rung in his head, the ones yelled in anger and confusion, and they made him think. The child was mad, but he had made some sense, and it made Trunks feel bad. Why was he treating Chibi the way he was? Because Trunks didn’t notice it before, he proved that Gohan wasn’t loyal, because he gave Gohan a reason to be disloyal? Those reasons didn’t sit well with him. The child was as much of a chooser of his parents as he was of his black eyes. And even though Trunks was unable to chose his own fate – that was decided because of who his father was – he had to follow it for the fate of the entire world depended on it, this was different because he was judging Chibi and he was treating him horribly solely based on who his father was. Chibi was right… it was Gohan whom he should be mad at, not his son! Chibi deserved an apology – that is if he would accept it. If he didn’t, Trunks would understand because he was being an absolute prick to Chibi.

The lavender-haired warrior sighed and looked at the unconscious child. He just couldn’t… leave him there on the ground could he? Chibi had to have been sleeping somewhere. Trunks glanced around and saw a makeshift bed of leaves and grass and proceeded to pick the child up and carry him over to the bed. Next, he walked over to some bushes nearby and relieved himself before he returned to his spot by the river and against the rock.

Chibi was a very unusual character. For he was reluctant to reveal that he was Gohan’s son, he called Gohan by name and not father or dad or any other familiar terms. It confused Trunks, and he wondered why that was? Was Chibi ashamed at being Gohan’s son, and is only now accepting that fact and abusing it to get back at his old man? Or was the child just estranged from his father and only knew him as Gohan, only could think of him as that and not as a father? There was also the way the child spoke – cryptic, calculated, cautious – almost as if he was hiding something, trying to dance around a series of steps that could uncover his secret if he slipped up. Chibi was awful mysterious as well since Trunks only knew a select few facts that he could number off on one hand while the child seemed to be far more knowledgeable about him.

Could it be when the boy had found him after the android attack? Trunks couldn’t remember anything after falling to his defeat to waking up by the river and puking his guts out, and he’d probably never be able to recollect that time, concussions tended to do that. Did he talk up a storm? Did the child hear rumours? Did the androids tell Gohan’s son, or was it Gohan himself who did the talking?

Yet, there was something that continued to bother him – that he could not remember where he had gone a few weeks ago, and something told him that wasn’t right. Did he get a concussion there too? He didn’t even remember how he left or even what he said when he returned except that he had just simply returned. And now his head was hurting even more so than before, it was throbbing, it felt like it was going to explode. Perhaps he’d just eat some soup and sleep. Sleep sounded like a good idea, because whenever he thought about where he went before, his head acted up, or at least more than usual. Trunks massaged his temples, trying to will the pain away.

Authors’ Notes: OoC is not a major part of the story and it is explained later.

thoughts
.+++. time/scene skip
.xxx. perspective change

*****

“Trunks.”

The lavender-haired prince groaned as he was shook. He didn’t want to get up, his head was killing him, and he saw red through his eyelids. At least the air was cool…

“Trunks!”

Why did that voice sound familiar? Trunks didn’t really know. He liked the voice though.

“Wake up Trunks!”

Oh Kami… his stomach was churning and the man sat up and turned to his left – away from the sound of the voice – and threw up. What happened to him? He felt like shit.

“Eww….” The voice was male, but it was young and Trunks rubbed his eyes and opened them to see a boy with Gohan’s hair cut, with Gohan’s eyes, and Gohan’s face… except the latter was filled with disgust – an emotion he hardly saw on Gohan’s face. Who was this kid?

“I think you’ve got a concussion, the androids must have hit your head too hard.”

Well, that much was obvious. Wait… where was the city? Oh Kami… no… did they demolish it? He looked around, taking in the familiar geography. No… this place was where Gohan took him training often.

“Here, drink this.” The miniature Gohan said as he lifted something made of stone to his lips. “It’s just water.”

Trunks swallowed wearily. He was tired… his whole body hurt…

“Oh no you’re not!” The boy exclaimed. “You’re going to eat first, it’s better if you get something in you, even if you’re going to puke it up later.”

Trunks groaned and a stone bowl and spoon was shoved in front of him. At least it smelled good…

He felt eyes on him, and Trunks sighed before leaning back on the rock behind him and bringing the spoon to his mouth. The spoon was small, obviously made for a child’s mouth. Yet, it reminded him of something… but he’d get back to that later. Thinking just hurt his head.

He was a bit worried though, because Trunks didn’t really seem too fazed by it. Hopefully it was just the concussion and not acclimatization. Seeing how his mother acted was hard enough…

As Gohan took the now-finished bowl from Trunks, he heard the man finally speak for the first time since all those years ago.

“Who… are you?”

Yet, before Gohan could answer, he was out like a light.

If the androids could do this to the man who defeated Frieza so easily… Gohan’s stomach clenched… Just obtaining Super Saiyajin still made him so far away from his goal. It was as if he had reached the top and opened the door, only to reach another set of stairs, much steeper than before.

“Nmmn…” He groaned before sliding back onto the rock and looking around with a wince in his eyes. Then those eyes locked with Gohan’s own, searching his black depths with curiosity. “Who are you?” He asked groggily.

“What do you remember? In the last few weeks I mean.” Gohan said quietly as he poked at the dwindling fire with a stick.

“Well…” Trunks said, not looking away from Gohan. “I remember coming home, then the androids were terrorizing people for weeks – but that isn’t new – yet I could never catch up to them… then they attacked Parsley City and I battled them there, but I lost, as usual. Then I’m here and you’re feeding me soup. I remember thinking I felt Gohan’s ki too… hey why do you look like him?”

Gohan stared at Trunks. The best word to describe the man was loopy and perhaps that was complimenting it. When he met Trunks the man was confident, he was composed, he was knowledgeable, mysterious, composed, polite. Yet now, he didn’t seem to be able to concentrate on anything. “Where.” Gohan prompted. “Where did you come back from?”

Trunks tilted his head, his face screwed in contemplation before wincing. “That… I can’t really remember.”

Gohan let out a sigh.

“That’s really weird… I remember leaving, and I remember coming back, but I don’t remember in between… and you still haven’t answered my questions.” Trunks said, regaining most of his consciousness now.

At least Trunks could remember what happened after he passed out… that was always good. But that relief did nothing for his frustration. How could he explain something to Trunks when he knew nothing of it… and even then, it was just a hypothesis, he wasn’t too sure. It seemed that they just might have to go see Bulma.

In response, there was one thing he could say, yet he didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to lie… but Trunks had enough head trauma lately he didn’t need confusion on top of that. “Why does it matter?” He mumbled and finally managed to get the fire going again. Next, he stuck the two pieces of meat on sticks and let them cook by the fire.

“Well, it’s kind of rude to ask questions but not answer them. Secondly I don’t know who you are. How do I know you aren’t planning on using me or something?”

His logic seemed intact enough… Maybe he didn’t have to lie. “The androids call me Chibi Gohan, and don’t worry, I hate them. Probably not as much as you – yet – but I still hate them. I’m on your side.”

Trunks tried to wrap his mind around the words. “Chibi Gohan hmm? Well you kinda do look like my… late master. What do you mean by yet though? It’s almost as if you expect them to do something.”

Why did it seem ironic that it was he who held all the answers now? That he was the mysterious one? If it weren’t for Trunks, he wouldn’t even be here. Why did Trunks go back in time anyway? All he wanted to do was talk to Goku… But, Gohan gave Trunks a weak smile. “You’re older than me, you’ve known them longer than I have.”

“I suppose you’re right. But Chibi, why won’t you tell me who you are?” He winced after the statement, leaning against the rock behind him.

“Just call me Chibi.” Gohan insisted. He didn’t want to tell a lie.

There was a sad frown on Trunks’ face and he moved to get up. What for, Gohan never found out, for he started coughing and holding his ribs. “Chibi, I have a medical kit in my jacket, Capsule 110 I believe, there should be some bandages to bind my chest. I…” Trunks winced and relaxed back on the rock. “I think some of my ribs are broken.”

Gohan almost slapped his face. How could he have forgotten about the capsules! He scrambled over and pulled out two cases. In one, there was a missing capsule, and the other was completely full. It was in the first that he found the capsule and he pressed down on the compress before rolling it away. A puff of smoke flashed before the medical kit appeared and he went over to grab it, bringing it over to Trunks’ side.

“Can you help me with my shirt Chibi?”

The boy from the past nodded and shuffled over to support Trunks with one arm as he leaned up from the rock. With his other hand, he pulled up the black shirt. It was a little difficult and slow, but he supposed that was better – the less he moved Trunks, the less damage would have to heal.

Gohan felt eyes on him, and as he moved his eyes up, he was met with Trunks’ heated gaze. Gohan squirmed; the look in those blue eyes was making him uncomfortable. He recognised that look though, it was the look his parents had in their eyes when they looked at each other. Gohan didn’t know how to feel though, now that it was aimed at him, did he like it or was it something he didn’t want? Don’t worry about it, it’s probably only his concussion. Gohan reasoned and tore his eyes away. Then, the black-haired demi pulled Trunks towards him, almost in an embrace, so that he leaned against Gohan, and that Gohan had both hands free. He grabbed the bandages from the kit and began to bind Trunks’ ribs.

The warrior’s breath was slow – almost laboured – and hot against Gohan’s neck. “Gohan…”

The name was whispered and made the boy freeze. Did Trunks figure it out?

Then muscled arms wrapped around his body. “I missed you.”

It was the concussion, Gohan concluded. “T-Trunks.” He whimpered, Trunks was making him uneasy. It didn’t feel bad, but it didn’t feel good either. It just felt… weird. He wanted to get out of this position, wanted Trunks to be a good patient and let his ribs be bound, but what could he say? He couldn’t lie. He was Gohan, but at the same time he wasn’t. However, when something warm, wet, and fleshy trailed along his neck, Gohan couldn’t help but react and he shoved Trunks away from his body with his eyes wide from shock. Wh-What was that! What did Trunks just do? The Son mentally screamed and hugged his own body. That just didn’t feel right. He looked up to see Trunks groaning against the rock, his head slumped and Gohan’s eyes widened. “Trunks! Are you alright? Can you hear me? Oh Kami, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! It’s just–”

It’s just… what?

“It’s alright Chibi, it was my fault.” Trunks said with a grin through his pain. “I thought you were someone else.”

Gohan shuffled over to the man who would be his pupil, who was his pupil. “Did I hurt you? Did you hit your head?”

“Nah, you just rattled my back. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Why…. Why did those words sadden him? And to think that I left him here, I left him all alone… The boy turned around and moved over to the dinosaur tail slices cooking by the fire before he realized something, and so he voiced it. “Hey, Trunks… do you think you could eat solid food? I could make the soup I made last night, cause… well you were puking yesterday.”

Yet, Trunks didn’t respond. Instead his eyes wandered over to the stone cutlery that he made as a child. “Those look like… hey Chibi where’d you get those?”

Gohan bit his lip as he turned the meat around. Apparently he showed the other the cutlery, not to mention there was another set that he knew he didn’t make. “Um, hidden under the rock you’re lying on?” He tried.

Trunks was wary and suspicious as he looked at Gohan. “How long have I been out?”

“You passed out yesterday afternoon.” Gohan said neutrally. “I brought you here.”

“You?” The prince said in disbelief. “It’s a day’s walk from Parsley City and you’re telling me you carried me over here before the morning? I remember waking up and it was dark…”

Gohan sighed. “A day’s walk, yes, but thirty minutes by air. And beside you were already out of the city when I found you.” Gohan glanced over towards the forgotten stone utensils. “But enough of that, do you want the soup? It’ll taste better if I cook it now before the meat is finished.”

“Capsule Corporation doesn’t make aircrafts anymore so nobody travels by air anymore. They wouldn’t anyway, with the androids and especially not just after an attack. Who are you? You’ve been avoiding that question all day Chi…bi…” Trunks’ gaze seemed to go blank before his face contorted in pain and he held his head. Then he gasped, apparently oblivious to his broken ribs. “No…” The words were soft, they were in disbelief, but not the disbelief of realization. No, it was as if he didn’t want to believe. His right arm crossed his body as it clutched at his chest and his left wrapped around his waist and he curled over.

Gohan watched this, wide eyes before he scrambled over to Trunks, laying a hand at his back. “Trunks! What’s wrong?”

“You…” The word sounded hateful, accusing. “You’re Gohan’s kid, aren’t you!”

Authors’ Notes: OoC is not a major part of the story and it is explained later.

thoughts
.+++. time/scene skip
.xxx. perspective change

*****

Was it because there were too many people dying? Was it because it was too tragic, too true? Gohan slammed his clenched hand into the earth. He didn’t want to see everybody dying! He didn’t want to be here! He didn’t want the world to end up like this! He didn’t want to die!

Gohan shivered, hugging his own body. He felt the androids attacking again, not too far away… he couldn’t go today, he was too weak.

But that was always the case, wasn’t it? He was too weak to save his dad against his uncle, he was too weak to challenge Nappa and Vegeta, he was too weak to save Namek, he was too weak when Frieza attacked Earth.

Even now, he was too weak to go back home and warn everybody about these androids, about this fate. He was stuck in these wastelands again, and could not leave until he was strong enough. He could not fly – what if those androids could sense him – he could not move – what if he ran into them?

Now he knew what Grandmother Lodi was talking about. Even though he had seen horrors in his life – he saw people dying, he saw a world as it was about to explode – there was nothing more terrifying than this place, this time. He was trapped in a cage of fear, unable to move, unable to do anything but hide. He was ruled by those androids with their evil, sadistic smirks…Yet, he had a fear that the old woman would never have guessed.

Gohan had to face them all over again. He had to face them with the knowledge that they will kill his friends, kill everybody he knows, that they will cause terror in every man, woman and child on Earth, that they will kill him.

How? How could Gohan face them with that knowledge?

Then, Trunks’ ki signalled in the distance. Gohan’s head shot up. He could feel the golden power of a Super Saiyajin, and yet… he could feel it waning. Gohan’s eyes closed as he entered the meditative state yet again.

He could feel the ki, he could sense the emotions. Anger, desperation, curiosity… shock? Pain.

Gohan broke out of it. What was going on over there? Why was Trunks so… emotional?

Yet, the ki continued to drop. It was slow… it was torturous. Was this what it meant to be stronger yet not strong enough? To have torture prolonged? To have the pain inflicted even harder?

Trunks’ ki continued to drop, and Gohan could not do anything about it. Fear had him glued to the spot. He was supposed to be Trunks’ mentor… he was supposed to train him…he was supposed to protect him…

Did he sacrifice himself for Trunks, like Piccolo had for him?

Then, images played out in his mind. Once again was he younger, watching as Nappa’s energy blast headed towards him. Then, the man whom he began to look up to, jumped in front of him, spoke words of hope.

And yet, Gohan couldn’t understand them at that moment. All that he knew was that Piccolo was going to die – die for his mistakes, die just like his dad did, and there wasn’t going to be any dragon balls to bring him back…

But that scene warped. Instead, it wasn’t Nappa, no it was the androids. They were toying with his beloved mentor, they were torturing him, and Piccolo’s ki was falling – just as Trunks’ was – slowly, gradually…

Then Seventeen approached him as Eighteen continued to play with Piccolo.

“Why aren’t you yellow?” He said with clear disappointment. “I told you to be yellow!”

The man had punched him across the jaw. And yet, Piccolo’s ki was still falling.

“Tch, you are pathetic.” He said as he charged the bolt that would surely be his death.

Piccolo’s ki had become almost zero. “Go-han…” The voice was Piccolo’s yet it was desperate, something his mentor was not.

“Then again.” The black-haired android said, turning towards Piccolo instead. “Maybe this’ll get you angry enough. How about I kill your father’s mentor like I killed him? Will that make you fun to play with?”

Gohan’s eyes widened. He didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t take his eyes off. The light grew before it flew towards Piccolo.

The ki disappeared.

Trunks knew that he was no match for them, yet he still tried. Some days he could hold his own against one, and other days he couldn’t. They always overpowered him in the end though. Why? Why was it always this way? And even now, with the knowledge of Gohan’s son driving him, he still could not defeat them. Was that the reason he kept feeling his old mentor’s ki? Was the rock, the mountainside all indicators that the child had lost? That the child had tried to defend himself?

And, as he fell to the ground, his hair losing the artificial tint, Trunks thought he sensed it again, thought that he felt Gohan’s ki sparking to life, shining golden just like before…

Gohan didn’t know the moment that he had closed his eyes, but when he opened them, he saw yellow. Reality and the twisted world in his mind had given rise to the anger that he pulled out from deep within him. And, even if he knew that Seventeen hadn’t killed Piccolo to rouse him (or perhaps he had, Gohan didn’t know, and didn’t want to know) he wanted to pummel the artificial human to the ground, destroy every piece into oblivion. But… but where was Trunks’ ki? Gohan’s eyes widened. No! They couldn’t have!

His heart raced before he took off towards the ruined city. His speed had increased and the moment he got there, he saw that they were leaving. He glanced down at the smoking metropolis and glared at them.

“Why, look it’s the brat.” Eighteen said with a smirk. “And his hair… it seems that you will get your fun as well Seventeen.”

“I’ll say… it’s almost as if I’m looking into the past. Don’t you remember that glare Eighteen? The one Gohan gave us when we killed all of his comrades? It’s such a pity his father died before we could kill him.” Seventeen responded with that evil smirk.

Gohan felt his blood boil. “As if you could have killed him.” He rumbled lowly.

“Aww, he even cares for the grandfather he never knew. How adorable.”

Gohan’s emotions were getting the better of him, and he charged blindly towards Seventeen.

“Tsk, tsk.” The android said as he held Gohan’s fists and dodged the flying kicks. “You really need some training.”

Yet, this was all Gohan knew. Charge at the enemy with as much rage as you can muster. When Gohan let his anger go, all strategy, all logic seemed to vanish. There was not enough time to hone the anger, not enough to keep a cool head with all of it in tow, not enough to learn to direct it in every punch, every kick.

“You’ve certainly gained strength and speed, but you’re just going berserk. This isn’t fun at all.” Seventeen said before kneeing Gohan in the stomach again and bringing his elbow down on his neck.

Everything else faded. Gohan didn’t even feel his body as it fell down into the rubble of the city.

Trunks pushed himself up from the street he fell on. Rocks and debris fell from his body as he rose. He coughed, dust escaping his lungs and he leaned against a street light. The sky was lit in twilight – the sun was setting, or perhaps rising, and he did a quick examination on his body. A few of his ribs were at least bruised – but probably broken if he knew Eighteen. His head was throbbing, and bruises littered his body. At least he had prevented further destruction of the city… usually after they had their fun with him, they left for a few days, perhaps a week or two if he was lucky.

It was almost depressing that he was so accustomed to this, that every time he woke up in the middle of a destroyed city, he didn’t panic. He just knew that he finished a battle with the androids. It took him a little while (especially even more so when he had a concussion) to remember what exactly had happened. And yet, all that he could pick up was that he finally managed to catch the androids this time, and that he was in Parsley City, after weeks of failed attempts.

Yet, there was something else that he knew he should remember, but his head felt foggy and it was full of pain. He’d remember it eventually.

As he reached into his jacket, he found a small box and remembered that he was to go training. He had the food, and he always carried a medical kit around with him. With a sigh, Trunks hobbled out of the city. The place that had become their training grounds – Gohan and his – was not too far away. If he could get there and find a place to rest near the river, he could manage recovery and begin his training.

Oh Kami… he felt like he was going to… Trunks leaned over and let out the meal his mother made from him earlier in the day… the sun was setting with the heat that was just starting to dissipate, not increase.

Ugh… he hated it when that happened… and his head just wouldn’t stop hurting…

As Gohan came to, he groaned. He glanced around, panicked at first before settling down. He was just getting accustomed to waking up in a post-apocalyptic world. But… where was he now? His stomach was hurting again, as did his head.

And the memories rushed back to him. He… he had become Super Saiyajin, he had come to Trunks’ rescue, yet where was Trunks? No! He couldn’t be dead! Gohan stood up and forced himself to fly, searching desperately for the unique ki signature, and he found it! There! Not too far away from him! It was weak, it was fluctuating, but it was there! Gohan flew down and landed behind Trunks, only to catch him as he toppled over. “Trunks!” He yelled out, his hand automatically looking for a pulse, and he relaxed once he felt it.

Yet, Gohan was still too weak to carry the other back to the training ground. (He had to avoid civilization, for he could not risk running into the androids right now) Perhaps… maybe…

“Kinto’un!” Gohan yelled and watched the skies. There was no response and Gohan sighed, looking down at the ground, this was going to be a long journey. Yet, just as he was about to lift off the ground, he felt a blast of air next to him. He glanced at the cloud, then at Trunks. Would the cloud let Trunks on? Trunks was Vegeta’s son…Gohan winced as he lifted Trunks onto the cloud… and he didn’t go through. Perhaps it could be that he’s asleep… Gohan thought with relief before joining the man on the cloud. “To the training grounds!” Gohan yelled and held onto the unconscious man as they flew through the skies.

Authors’ Notes: OoC is not a major part of the story and it is explained later.

thoughts
.+++. <-time/scene skip
.xxx. <-perspective change

*****

When Gohan woke up, he felt like he had just been beaten up by Vegeta… His head was killing him and everything hurt – especially his stomach. Gohan didn’t even have to check to know he had bruising.

It was hard to distinguish hunger from bruise though, and Gohan pulled himself out of the river. Somehow, he managed to grasp onto the land in semi-consciousness, or luck just was on his side. (Not on his front for sure though…)

He was soaking wet, cold, hungry and injured. He needed to get food, and then heal up. He wouldn’t dare to fly in this state.

There was heavy breathing above him, and a drop of large saliva slid down his shoulder. Gohan glanced up to see a very familiar face.

Apparently it recognized him too and panic filled its face. It picked the wrong prey today.

Gohan’s stomach growled and almost comically, the gigantic T-Rex turned tail (well, whatever was left of it anyway) and ran. Gohan let out a short laughter, but halting the once his stomach muscles protested before he ran after the dinosaur. He hasn’t had dinosaur tail in awhile…

.+++.

It took Gohan a few days to recover, but he was glad where he ended up. He knew this land like the back of his hand, it was the place Piccolo took him training after his dad died. And now was he ever glad that Piccolo left him alone for those six months. Today, he should continue on, go to where Trunks was. Yet… Gohan knew that he had to be cautious, for if he was caught by the androids again, he knew that he wouldn’t have a second chance. Seventeen wanted to face him as a Super Saiyajin, and yet, Gohan didn’t know if he could achieve it right now. It took Krillin’s death for his dad to become one, it took the death of everybody he knew for his future self to become one. What did it take for Trunks? Was it his future death? Gohan shuddered at the thought of his fate being absolute. He was going to lose his left arm… he was going to die… all at the hands of these androids. Gohan glanced down at his left limb and let his right arm caress it. What would it be like losing a limb? What would it be like dying? Gohan didn’t want to know, he didn’t want to find out.

Yet, it almost seemed that he would. The world, it felt so empty… before he could sense all of his father’s friends – Krillin, Yamcha, Vegeta… – his father, Piccolo, and now, all he could sense was Master Roshi and those that lived with him, his mother and grandfather, Bulma and weaker humans. There was a stronger force, a force that he remembered, but it seemed hidden. Very weak yet, Gohan knew that it could become stronger.

Gohan sighed as he drew random shapes in the ground beneath him. How could it have come down to this? Just him left, then this Trunks fellow? How could those androids be so powerful? He knew that he should get going, should try to get back to his own time, but he was afraid. What if he ran into the androids again? Gohan needed to get stronger, he knew that, but how? Every time he attempted to become stronger, he sparred with a friend, an ally. How could he do it on his own? His father had done it, he had traveled the lands facing enemies… he used gravity chambers… Yet what could Gohan do? He was out in the middle of nowhere, with nobody around, nobody strong enough that is, and completely clueless.

What would his father do?

He would train as hard as he could, he would reach the androids’ expectations and above, he would challenge them and then go back in time to do it all over again.

But Gohan wasn’t like his father. He didn’t like fighting. But what he liked to do and what he had to do didn’t always coincide with one another, that he did know, and it was proven by his future self. He fought for Earth, tried to protect it as best as he could… even with the distaste for fighting.

And Gohan knew that he needed to go home. His mother probably missed him, she probably was worried sick, and without him… Trunks would never even stand a chance against these androids, the one yet to be born. And in order to go home, he had to fly and risk running into the androids which meant he needed to achieve Super Saiyajin. He could do it, Gohan knew that, yet could he do it, right now, without the others dying?

It required anger… and anger was something that unlocked Gohan’s powers. He knew that. Anger and if something threatened his life. He unlocked it a few days ago, once he was angry at how Seventeen acted. He remembered his words: playing with you is like playing with those humans all those years ago… fun for a few minutes, but quickly boring.

He would use that. Gohan closed his eyes and entered the meditative state Piccolo taught him. In his mind he imagined the two androids. Then he imagined everybody. They were being beaten horribly, they were being played with – just as he was – and they were being mocked. The androids wore bored expressions as they taunted those who were obviously weaker than they. He tried to see it as if he were there, feeling their ki slowly diminish.

He felt the anger, he felt the dread. It was crawling up on him, coiling within him, filling his being. There was fear – horror – at observing their strength, their brutality, their boredom. He felt helpless, he felt weak. Sadness and sorrow crept up in the background, because he knew that they would never win, that eventually they would die.

And it was unfair! It was not right! It was… it was…

No! His eyes snapped open and he fell towards the ground on his hands and knees, his heart racing, his chest heaving.

It was too much!

.xxx.

Trunks felt that niggling again, he thought he felt that familiar ki twitch, he thought he felt a disturbance, but he had to ignore it. It wasn’t true, it wasn’t real. It was just his emotions getting in the way again. It could have been hunger too, for each time he thought the ki spiked into existence was when he had to eat.

Kami… I’m really out of it! His name can also mean rice, and here I am thinking about him when it’s time to eat! Trunks thought and groaned. Was he really that lovesick?

“Trunks! It’s time to eat!” Bulma yelled out from the kitchen. Trunks groaned. He really needed to stop this.

“Coming Mother.”

“So, Trunks, it seems that the charge is going to take while… it’s only one-sixth full.” Bulma said as she sat down. “Probably another five more months. Why don’t you go out to train? I mean… you’ll be facing the androids in the past…”

“But Mother… I can’t just leave you here!” Trunks said with wide eyes. “What if the androids attack? Who will protect you? What about the time machine?”

“I survived on Namek when Gohan and Krillin left me alone, I’m fairly certain that I, and the time machine, can find a safe enough hiding place until then.” Bulma said with a smile. “Besides, you need to train anyway, you need to keep up your body.”

Just as Trunks began to eat, he felt it. No, not Gohan’s ghostly ki, but others fading. They were close and the warrior’s head snapped up. “Mother, I need to go.” He said and stood up, running to where his sword was.

“Trunks! Wait!” Bulma called after her son before tossing a square box of capsules at him. “A month’s worth of food.”

Trunks gave a soft smile. “You always know what I’ll say, don’t you?” He said before disappearing into his room to grab the weapon and flying off to Parsley City.

.+++.

“Why, look who’s here…” Seventeen said with a smirk as they floated above the wreckage they caused.

“Indeed, maybe this time I can have some fun.” Eighteen responded pompously.

“Tch.” Seventeen spat out. “Just ‘cause I got to play with the brat doesn’t mean you can have the pupil! It was hardly a fight!”

“You know the rules Seventeen! We always take turns. Don’t worry, you’ll get him next round.”

Trunks glared at the two artificial humans who were clearly mocking him. From what he could tell, he was going to be facing Eighteen. Why? He didn’t know, and he really didn’t care. He just wanted to get this over with. He let the power of a Super Saiyajin out and charged at the woman, who quite easily blocked his attack.

“Talk about rude. I thought Gohan had pounded some manners into you.” She said. “We were in the middle of a conversation you know.”

“Does it look like I give a damn?” Trunks countered with a smirk, firing a blast towards her as she held his sword.

“Why do you get the yellow hair!” Seventeen seemed spiteful almost. “Hey! Eighteen! Don’t kill him! Maybe he can teach the brat to do that!”

Eighteen kicked away the ki blast with the tip of her boot before letting it connect to Trunks’ head, sending him flying in recoil. “Are you stupid or something? We killed Gohan for a reason! Or are we going to do away with this one once he lives out his usefulness too?” She said, turning her back to Trunks.

As Trunks collided into the building he stared up at them. What…. What were they talking about? Curiosity almost got the better of him as he moved to sheath his sword. No! It didn’t matter! They had to die! Now! He charged towards Eighteen with the blade.

“Maybe we should let this guy breed as well, then his kid will try to exact revenge on us too.” Seventeen said as he relaxed in the air.

“Ugh!” Eighteen said in disgust as she blocked Trunks’ sword with her forearm. “You disgust me Seventeen!”

However, Trunks’ eyes widened in shock, and he didn’t even attempt to dodge the blow aimed at his stomach. What did Seventeen just say? Too? As well?

“Oh dear, I think you just spilled a secret brother… he didn’t even try to protect himself from my punch.” Eighteen said with a laugh. “Apparently he didn’t know his mentor had a kid.”

Gohan had… no way, that’s impossible! Trunks thought and held his stomach in physical and emotional pain.

Seventeen joined in on the laughter. “Look at that expression! It almost makes me want to cry! He looks like you just crushed his heart, not his stomach!”

“Technically, that was your doing Seventeen. I just reinforced it.”

“I suppose.” The black-haired android said before he floated down in front of Trunks. “The brat even acknowledged it. He’s the spitting image of Gohan. In fact, he almost looks exactly like Gohan did when we killed all of his friends.”

“And… you left him alive?” Trunks grunted out, but this time the pain was metaphorical and not literal.

“What use is a toy if you break it early on? I told him to learn that funny skill you Saiyajins have to change your hair colour before he sees me next, or else I’m going to kill him. He’s stronger than the rest of the humans though, I’ll give you that.”

Trunks was filled with mixed emotions. He was hurt, torn, and heartbroken. He didn’t know what was more painful – the fact that Gohan had… betrayed him, or the fact that Gohan hadn’t told him. Yet, regardless of all of this, Trunks felt the need to protect Gohan’s son, to train him, to raise him. If Gohan had really left something in this world, then it was his job as his pupil to protect it! And it… it was something of his mentor’s…

“Now…” Trunks didn’t notice that Seventeen had backed up, and Eighteen took his place. She lifted his head with her index finger. “Are you going to continue our fight or just float there in your own head?”

Trunks’ eyes hardened. If he could defeat them now, then perhaps Gohan’s son could live the rest of his life in peace!

He charged once again.

Authors’ Notes: OoC is not a major part of the story and it is explained later.

thoughts
.+++. <-time/scene skip
.xxx. <-perspective change

*****

Trunk hated waiting, he hated watching. Every time that he heard news of the androids, he was too late, every time the ki was disrupted, they were gone by the time he got there. More and more people were dying and he could do nothing about it! And all the while, there was something niggling in the back of his mind, it was as if it was on the tip of his tongue and he couldn’t identify it. The time machine was taking too long to charge!

Often, he also thought back to when he went into the past. Will his killing Frieza change things? Will he have screwed things over?

All Trunks knew that he could do was wait and see how it turned out.

.+++.

The androids were particularly sadistic today, Trunks noticed as ki after ki vanished. However, there was that niggling again, but Trunks didn’t pay attention to it. Instead, he concentrated on where the androids were. If he could calculate their next move, he might be able to prevent some deaths. It was almost like meditation, what Gohan taught him, what Piccolo taught Gohan. Often would his mother come out to check on him, and just as Trunks was honing in, something flared, that niggling sensation burst into life and it blew Trunks out of his state.

What was Gohan’s ki doing here!

Trunks snapped his eyes open and charged towards the mountain city that was currently under attack. Something wasn’t right here!

.xxx.

Gohan’s aura flowed about him as he stared at Seventeen. He was still fearful of his life, but hopefully he could be up to their standards. Gohan couldn’t – wouldn’t – die.

Seventeen, however, seemed disappointed. “Aw, none of that yellow stuff? Ah, well you’re just a brat. Well, let’s see how much you can withstand. Come on, I’ll give you the first shot.”

They were mocking him, they were underestimating him, but Gohan already knew that he couldn’t defeat them as he was now. He had to give it all though, unless he wanted to die. So he took the bait and sent a leg towards the android’s head.

The reaction was more instinctual than a defence. An arm shot up to take his kick easily. “Hmm…Not bad for a brat.” Seventeen said before his hand wrapped around Gohan’s ankle and flung Gohan into the rock he hid behind. “Let’s see how long you can amuse me before you become a ragdoll. If you can last, then I’ll keep that promise. But you better turn yellow the next time we meet, because playing with you is like playing with those humans all those years ago… fun for a few minutes, but quickly boring.”

Gohan pushed himself up. This is child’s play to him… I’m nothing compared to him… The boy thought. But I need to hold on… I need to live… I need to warn everybody. He charged at Seventeen again, this time disappearing before reappearing behind him and landing a blow at his lower back. Next, he swung around to the front and flew up, punching the mechanical person in the chin. His feet kicked, and then he was grabbed in mid-air before tossed off to a mountain side.

From wincing eyes, Gohan could see Seventeen cracking his neck.

“He packs quite a punch.” He said with a smirk. “It’ll be interesting to see what he can do in the future.”

“Why wait?” Eighteen said, deciding to comment again. “Isn’t it stupid to let the kid grow up and challenge us?”

Seventeen laughed. “It’s not as if he can get stronger than his father. You saw how easily I defeated him. Although, I guess it was unfair to take off his arm beforehand.”

Gohan glared at them, fisting his hands. Was this all a game to them? Killing people? Torturing them? Terrifying them? Something untapped appeared deep within him, like that time when he thought Frieza killed Krillin, when his henchmen killed the Nameks, when Nappa killed Piccolo, when his uncle hurt his dad. Energy appeared at his hands and he shot it at Seventeen. He charged at him, throwing kicks and punches wherever there was a body. More energy waves. How could somebody be so… so cruel!

Then he was plucked by his shirt. “Aww, did talking about your daddy make you mad Chibi Gohan?” Seventeen said with a sickly mocking tone. “But it does make you more powerful. How about I tell you how we ripped out his arm, scarred his body, how we killed him? Would that make you more fun to play with?”

Gohan was glaring at him, his breathing heavy from his recent exertion.

“Aw, isn’t he cute Eighteen? Look at that little glare, it’s as if he thinks he’s a threat to us.”

The girl turned her head. “I never get you sometimes Seventeen.”

Seventeen punched him in the stomach, and Gohan, even in the pain, knew that this wasn’t even half, perhaps even a quarter of his real strength. It was no wonder why everybody died fighting them. His vision began to darken around the edges.

No! I can’t! I need to warn! I need to! Gohan said as he forced his consciousness to regain itself. Just as it did, there was another blow to his stomach – this time a knee.

“Look at him, clinging on, trying to remain awake.” Seventeen said as he shook Gohan.

All Gohan could do was groan. There were more stars in his vision than in the sky. (He knew that wasn’t the case, but logic really didn’t play a huge role in his mind at the moment)

“You still awake kid?”

Gohan forced himself to blink and he winced and saw the man who killed his future self.

Seventeen was smirking maliciously again. “Heh, you’re pretty tough kid.”

“Seventeen, can you wrap it up? I’m getting bored watch you play with your boy toy.” Eighteen said and yawned.

The male android laughed. “Alright, alright sis. Guess it’s nighty-night for you brat. You got a passing grade. Have fun.” He said before kneeing Gohan in the stomach again. This time, to knock him out.

As Gohan’s world turned black he felt as if he were flying.

.xxx.

The time traveller landed down in the ruined city in the mountains. The damage was done, and there was no sign of the androids. “Fuck…” He cursed and wandered through the still-flaming city. He glanced from left to right, following the disaster. But, unlike the typical destructions, it moved sharply to the right, following a house that had been blasted through. Did they follow somebody they were playing with? Trunks thought and floated over the rubble.

He saw a man, kicked over on his side – as Eighteen tended to do once somebody died. There was damage here as well… the rock the dead man was reaching for had appeared as if somebody, or something, was smashed into it, and a circle of impact was blown into the mountainside. Were there more people here? Did the androids decide to vaporize them instead of leaving corpses for him to find? Yet, there was no sign of his mentor, no sign of where the androids flew off to. Nothing.

Was he being driven mad by these artificial humans? Were they pushing at his wits, making him hallucinate, making him imagine, making him hope? Trunks swore that he felt Gohan’s ki spike here, yet it couldn’t be. Gohan was dead, Gohan would have left more damage than a rock and a mountain side, Gohan would have went Super Saiyajin.

And Gohan would have been disappointed in him. He had failed humanity yet again, he let the androids go on a rampage, and he did nothing to stop them! He was always too late, always saw just the aftermath, the scared humans, the corpses littering the ground, and always failed.

“Damn it all!” Trunks yelled as he punched the rock, shattering it. Why did he have to be so weak? If only… if only Goku had still lived! If only his time had a miracle antidote from the future! Why did Piccolo have to go die? Why couldn’t he have had enough wisdom to stay away, to save his life for others! They would have had the dragon balls, would have had a chance! Then Gohan would have really been here again, instead of in the afterlife where he could do nothing but watch… watch as he failed over and over and over again.

“Agh!” He screamed in frustration, his ki sparking to its peak, his hair turning golden, his eyes gaining a green tinge, and he flew. Anywhere, anyplace. He just needed to be away from this massive destruction, the sorrow, the fear.

And he landed in a forest, where life seemed to go on as normal, where those creatures of lesser intelligence continued on obliviously.

Then Trunks laughed, it was dark, it was sardonic. The ant was fearful of those things bigger than it, and the chain continued. Humans were once at the top… but then came the androids. There was always something bigger, something badder out there, and humans had only just realized it. It shook them out of their comfortable life and it reverted them back to nature, fearing their predator.

Where would mankind be without the Saiyajins? Dead?

No… Goku was the start of this all. Without Goku, Dr. Gero would not have created the androids to defeat him, there would be no Raditz, no Vegeta, no Frieza… perhaps the world would have been run by the Red Ribbon Army…

But this was not the time for what-ifs. This was not the life with second chances, or even thirds. Trunks had one life, and he had to use it well. He could not die… even if it meant that he couldn’t meet Gohan until much later. Earth needed him… and even though he needed Gohan, he would have to do without. He had to deal with two enemies far stronger than he was. If only Gohan was here now… perhaps they could deal with the androids together.

“Damnit Gohan!” Trunks sobbed, his energy levels reverting to normal as he fell to the grass. “Why did you have to die…?”