Spectres

by mei0023

A lonely warrior, a young girl, a desolate world- and a backwards glance at humanity.

LEGAL DISCLAIMERS;

DragonballZ, Mirai Trunks, Bulma, Son Gohan, Androids 17&18, etc., are all copyright Akira Toriyama, Toei Animation (God bless them all!), Bandai, and Funimation Inc. I claim no ownership of any character in this whatsoever outside of Mei. Mei is copyright me, 1999.

Alright, people, all that aside now. This fic (aside from being the first in my Aldebaran series) is about as light as one can get while being set in Mirai Trunks' world. Some elements are dark, I'll admit that, but, once again, this is in Mirai Trunks' timeline. I had a blast writing this, and watch for cameos by my friends Andrea (Andy) and Abby (aka Gail [Abagail]), as well as one by myself that shouldn't be too hard to miss... Take a wild guess. ^.~ My e-mail buddy Jess makes her own (albeit incessantly breif) cameo.

Before you go on, some elements of this might be a little unnerving or disturbing to some (though why, I don't know.). If you find yourself queazy at mention of a hug, kiss, etc., two questions- 1.) why are you reading this fic? and 2.) WHY ARE YOU ON MY PAGE AT ALL?! Ah, whatever.

This isn't particularly a darkfic, and I've tried to keep it as clean and reader-friendly as possible while keeping the tradgey and emotion of Mirai Trunks' world dominant. Overall, this is a love story about- oh, why am I telling you? It'll spoil it all! Go on and read it yourself! =P Sillies. o.O

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"Faith can be shattered as if with a feather, friendship crushed with a single word, love ended with one crushing blow. He who can destroy these three- he is a god. He who can preserve it- he is something beyond." -Anonymous

----------

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Mei, gimme a break-"

"I'm going to sleep and I'm catching my plane to China tomorrow at 5:00 in the morning. There's nothing you can do to keep me up any longer."

"Please?"

"Both of you, goodnight."

I heard two distinctive moans from the other end of the conference call. I glanced lazily at my digital alarm clock. 11:30 PM. I was gonna oversleep and catch hell from my folks.

One voice butted in. "Mei-"

"Gail, please? Lemme sleep!"

"Well, fine. Be that way." I heard a click as her part of the line went dead.

I sighed. "Andy, please...."

"I know, Mei, I know. You go and sleep. Write me a postcard, okay?"

I smiled wearily to myself. Good ol' Andy. "I will. Be careful while I'm gone, okay? It's only two weeks and I don't want you gettin' hurt."

"Yeah, yeah, I will." I could hear Andy's 11-year-old little sister begin to yank her away from the phone. "You won't have to come back and save my butt. Your folks would probably make you swim back if you decided to pull something like that."

I chuckled. That comment had a slight ring of truth to it. "Just let Sam take the fall for anything dumb you do."

Andy laughed. "That's not a new idea. Anyways, you have a great time, you hear? Tell me if it's any different over there from this hell-hole."

I sighed and cranked "Stoned" on my Smash Mouth CD louder. "I'll let you know. Later, Andy. Luv ya."

"Ditto. Later! Call me when you get back, 'kay?"

"I will. Adios."

With that, I sighed and hung up. Andy had to be the best friend I'd ever had. She was one of the few.

Pulling the faded comforter up around my neck, I reached over and turned off my boom box. I pulled my hair out of its usual low ponytail and let the golden brown locks lazily flop on the pillow before I did. I glanced at my headboard. An alarm clock glowed annoyingly at me standing next to a row of books and a plastic figurine that was supposedly a good-luck charm to guard you while you sleep. I was fairly superstitious myself- besides, I had thought it was kinda cute.

I rolled over and clicked off the light. Closing my eyes, I yawned and muttered to myself. "Tomorrow's a big day, Mei," I murmured to myself. "Get some rest."

----------

I yanked my duffel bag higher onto my shoulder and dodged quickly between two ruined buildings. Lucky me, my plane had to make an emergency landing in Japan.

I shook my head. Gotta find some place to hide. I glanced up at the sky. A speck was scooting across the bland gray like there was no tomorrow.

'There probably isn't.'

I shook my head to clear my senses. This had been the site of the android's first attack, hadn't it? I bit my tounge and swore silently to myself.

Resolving that I had to find someplace to hide, I ducked quickly into an abandoned building. Pushing the shattered glass doors aside, I threw my duffel bag into a corner and slumped against the wall. I let my head fall back against the concrete wall and took a deep breath. The ceiling looked like it was going to cave in at a moment's notice.

"Let it," I muttered. "Better than being stuck here." I pulled my hair down and let it fall limply halfway down my back. Pulling it back up, I wound it into a loose knot and tied it up again.

I tapped my fingers on the floor impatiently, waiting for my mind to conjure up some odd plan or another to get me home- or at least away from here. I thought it was hell back in the states... Was I far off...

My head jerked upward as a I heard footsteps above me. I sucked in a breath and tried to stop my heart from pounding.

Two voices were debating something. I listened closely and felt blood pumping almost straight into my throat. One male, one female... They were directly above me.

I slid my hands forward, trying to steady myself so I could get up. Maybe run. Maybe hide. I honestly didn't know at this point. Sliding them further, I suddenly stopped and twitched my nose. No... not dust.. not now...!

"A-choo!"

The voices above me stopped. I clamped my hand to my mouth and frantically pressed my back against the wall. My heart pounded violently, and for a moment I was afraid that the sheer sound of it throbbing in my ears would give me away. Too late for that.

After a moment of deathly silence, one in which you could almost hear the hair on the back of my neck snap to attention, I screamed as the ceiling above me gave way.

I sat, coughing against the plaster dust, before hearing a woman's voice laugh mockingly at me.

"Well, well, brother, what do we have here?"

I gasped and my head shot up. Through the fine cloud of plaster dust, I could make out two figures. One was female, short blonde hair, about average height. The other was a male, his sister's size, with long black hair. The male turned to me, and I recoiled from his gaze.

"Seems we missed one." The young man began towards me. I, now frightened to the brink of collapse, huddled myself against the wall, trembling violently. Thoughts raced through my head. 'Leave me alone...'

He laughed. "Fat chance," he taunted, seeing the fear in my eyes. I felt myself being grabbed by the collar, and lifted a few inches off the ground. I screamed and kicked and yanked at his wrists.

"LET ME DOWN!" I screamed. I landed a few furious kicks at his midsection- enough to take down my 250 lb older brother- but he didn't even flinch. Instead, he just chuckled.

"I love it when they try to fight back," he mused, then tightened his arm and, turning, hurled me into the opposite wall. I slammed into the wall and felt the plaster crack behind me, along with a few of my ribs. Tears began pouring down my face, half from fear, the other half from sheer pain.

"Why don't you just finish her off now?" the female interjected. "She's not going to be much sport."

The male cracked his knuckles and shrugged, grinning insanely. "But it's so much more fun to see them die in pain." Raising his palm towards me, I felt an incredible surge of heat and pain and felt my entire body reel from the blast. I felt myself slipping rapidly into unconciousness.

"Sayonara," he laughed, and I blacked out from the second hit.

----------

"Guys, I think she's coming to."

I moaned as I felt myself slipping into conciousness. 'No, no, no... Let me be...'

I briefly opened one eye and immediately closed it again because of the intensity of the light.

"Hey? Can you hear me?" a soft woman's voice asked.

I moaned again. "Ye... yeah..." I tried to sit up, only to feel a stabbing pain in my ribs. Crying out, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Easy, now. You had a really bad ordeal back there. Just lay down." Obeying, I slowly laid back down.

"Bulma?" Another voice, this time male, joined in. "How is she?"

"As fine as she can be going up against the androids." The woman sighed.

I muttered and opened one eye, then closed it again. I swore to myself about the light.

"Lucky thing I found her when I did," the male voice added.

I opened my eye again. Blinking, it adjusted to the light, as did my other one. Turning my head slightly, I looked over to see a smiling blue-haired woman sitting next to the cot I had been layed on.

"Hey there," she said cheerfully, yet quietly enough so that my ears wouldn't start throbbing again. "You gave us quite a scare back there. I thought you'd never come around."

I smiled weakly. I saw a young, dark-haired man walk over and kneel down next to the woman. "I hate to sound rude, miss, but what were you thinking going up against 17?"

I shook my head and coughed. "It wasn't really by choice. I was hiding in this building, and they were a level above me. I sneezed and they came down through the roof..." I stopped there and realized I could barely move any of my limbs.

The blue-haired woman noticed my frightened expression. "You got quite beaten up back there. Don't worry, in time you'll be back on your feet again. This is all just temporary."

I blinked weakly. "Can I sit up?"

The woman nodded and put her hand to my back. I slowly righted myself, biting my lower lip at the pain.

"You sure are a tough one," the man smiled. "You've got three cracked ribs."

I blinked.

He nodded. "Also a broken left arm, sprained right wrist, and nearly-destroyed right ankle, not to mention some pretty bad burns on your arms and left side and a good-sized whack on the head." He chuckled slightly. "Taken like a true fighter."

"Funny," I said quietly, as I couldn't raise my voice yet, "I can't feel a thing."

"No surprise," the woman said. "I gave you a heavy pain-killer, coupled with a bone and cartilage regenerative agent. If all goes as planned, you should be back on your feet in under a week."

I smiled. "Thank you."

The woman turned to the man. "Gohan-kun, can you go find Trunks? He wanted to know when our friend here woke up."

"No problem," he said with a smile. He stood up and strode out of the room.

I sat there silently for a moment before the woman introduced herself.

"Sorry for the lack of introductions- my name's Bulma." She extended her hand and brushed a strand of hair out of her face with the other.

"My name's Mei." I shook her hand as well as I could with the layer of bandages wrapped around it.

"So," Bulma began, "am I correct in assuming that you're not from around here?"

I looked down at my lap. "Yeah, but I'd really rather not talk about it."

"Oh. Gomen nasai." Bulma's face dropped a bit.

"No, it's alright." I looked back up at her.

Bulma studied me. "You're a big one," she said with a smile. "How old are you?"

I smiled. "13." She was right- I was by no means a fragile girl. I may have been tall, but I was far from willowry. I found it more attractive to be a girl with some meat on her.

"Hey, my son Trunks is your age." She smiled. "About your height, too- maybe a half-inch taller. I don't know where he got it from. Certainly not his father nor myself. Dende only knows how genetics get stirred." I chuckled slightly.

"So, do you have any family, Mei?" She looked at me, concerned. "Because if you do, I think we should find them."

I paused and looked down in my lap. "No, I don't. Not anymore, anyway."

"Gomen nasai."

"It's okay." I looked around. The room I was in was mostly gray, no windows, but with a desk in the far corner and a halogen lamp above my bed. There was a faded red and brown shag rug on the floor, and a radiator at the wall near the foot of the bed. "So, where am I?"

Bulma smiled slightly. "This is the Capsule Corporation headquarters. It's not much now, but it used to be beautiful. I grew up here."

I looked around. "I'm guessing you're a doctor."

She shook her head. "No, an inventor, actually. Although lately I've fallen behind a bit."

I smiled. "You remind me of an old friend of mine... David, his name was. Always inventing stuff." I chuckled slightly and shook my head. "Strange guy, but I'd known him for so long..."

"Kaasan?"

Bulma and I looked up and saw a figure standing in the doorway. Bulma smiled warmly.

"I was wondering when you'd get here," she joked. She turned to me as he strode over. "Mei, this is my son, Trunks. Trunks, this is Mei."

I smiled at him as he knelt down next to Bulma and smiled back at me. He was enough to turn a few young lady's heads, that was easily visible. His lavender hair hung straight to his ears, and his blue eyes were change enough from the typical black. He was about my height, and fairly well-built. He was, at a rough estimate, around my age- maybe a year older, possibly a year younger. He wore a pair of faded jeans, a faded T-shirt, and a denim jacket that was a few sizes too big for him.

"Compliments to you, Mei-san," he said with a grin. "You train?"

I shook my head. "Not unless you count a second tier yellow belt at the local YMCA." I blushed slightly.

Trunks chuckled. "You certainly took a beating back there. Good thing Gohan-san heard the blasts and found you. The androids thought you were dead, obviously."

I rubbed the back of my head. "I can't blame them. Sure felt like it."

"Well, it's a good thing you're not. They don't take any prisoners." Trunks' expression turned serious. "What happened back there, anyway?"

I glanced at my wrist and silenced inexplicabley. I saw Bulma give Trunks a look that shut him up. He was polite but obviously a little careless when he got agitated about something.

"Mei-san, you should stay here. Out there in the open is no place for somebody who hasn't been trained. Even then, it's pretty rough."

I glanced at Trunks. "Are you sure?"

He waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. At least here you're safe."

I smiled. "Thank you."

----------

I woke up the next morning to the sound of battle cries not too far off. Startled, I shot up in bed. I briefly noticed that I could sit up without disturbing my ribs, and gave silent thanks to Bulma.

Standing, I crossed the room and shuffled through my duffel bag, pulling out a pair of baggy, dingy jeans and an oversized white teeshirt. Yanking on my sneakers and neglecting the laces, I attempted to run, and felt a sharp, crushing feeling in my right ankle. 'Right,' I mentally grumbled, bending down and rubbing my ankle painfully through the bandages. I set out again- this time jogging- towards the yelling.

I slowed as I neared an open archway that, as far as I could see, opened onto a wide area that was obviously once a courtyard. I walked carefully and as silently as I could until I reached the wall. Pressing my back against the cool sandstone, I shifted my gaze inward as my heart began pounding rapidly. I turned my head slightly.

I let out my breath as I saw Gohan and Trunks exchanging rapid-fire kicks and punches inside. The only thing was- I did a double-take as soon as I noticed this- they were a good 8-10 feet in the air. Now there's something you don't learn at the Y.

The two jumped back as the air sparked with electricity. Trunks noticed me in the archway.

"Hey, Mei-san, you up this early?" He smiled at me.

I nodded. "Yeah. Force of habit, I suppose." I stole a sideways glance at Gohan, who motioned for me to be quiet. I grinned as Gohan suddenly blurred and disappeared. I turned back to Trunks. "Well, I'll leave you two." I turned and began walking away, and gave a backhand wave without turning. "Enjoy your spar!"

Laughing, I heard Trunks cry out as Gohan yelled a war cry- from behind him.

----------

I trotted around for a bit, all the while feeling a bit more comfortable with having all these bandages on. The Corporation headquarters itself was huge- it took up about two square city blocks by an estimate, and finding myself lost wasn't too hard. I tried not to wander too far from the courtyard where I had seen Gohan and Trunks sparring, but I eventually found myself lost in a seemingly endless maze of corridors and rooms.

"I wonder how many people this place could hold anyways," I asked myself. I stopped and leaned against the wall to catch my breath. I must have wandered into the cellar by that point, because the corridors were narrow and built with some sort of odd, brown rock illuminated only by a few dim gas lights that dangled from the ceiling every so often. Rooms were scattered randomly along the maze of hallways, most empty, a few holding old cardboard boxes that were growing mildew with age and the musty air.

I glanced around, attempting to gather my bearings. "This is hopeless," I muttered, and continued walking in the direction I had been heading. More rooms, more lamps, more STUFF...

Losing my resolve, I sat down and wearily leaned back against the damp wall. "Great," I muttered. "Now I'm lost in this rat maze and there's no way to get out."

"There's always the option of this way."

I jumped slightly and turned toward the source. I saw Trunks step into the light. He had obviously just finished sparring, as he had a towel around the back of his neck and his smile, albeit tired, was genuine.

I put a hand to my chest and breathed a sigh of relief. "You scared me."

"Oh." He blushed slightly. "Gomen nasai, Mei-san."

I waved my hand. "No, no, it's alright." I looked up at him. "And you don't have to call me Mei-san. Too formal."

"Gomen nasai."

"Do you like to apologize for everything?"

He blushed again and opened his mouth to reply with yet another 'gomen nasai', then caught himself and laughed. "I guess I've got to work on that."

I smiled. "It's not your fault- you're just a very polite person. That's more than I can claim." I stood up and brushed myself off. "I've always been 'that loudmouth kid who can't stop shooting her mouth off.'"

Trunks chuckled. "You sound like kaasan describing my tousan."

"Who? Gohan?"

Trunks shook his head. "No, Gohan-san's just an old friend of kaasan's. My tousan was killed by the androids a while ago, when I was still an infant."

"Oh." I stopped. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Trunks shook his head. "No, no, it's okay." He looked at me. "What are you doing down here anyway?"

I blushed. "I dunno. I just went off to explore and... well, ended up here. How did you find me?"

He grinned, as if I'd just asked the million dollar question. "I could sense your ki down here."

My face turned blank. "My what?"

"Your ki. It's like an energy- an aura, if you will- that everybody gives off. Gohan-san's been training me to use mine against the androids- its can be used in attacks and such. It's also what lets Gohan-san and I fly. Usually we spar in the city, but the androids have been prowling around lately."

"Ah." I nodded, pretending I knew what he was talking about.

He could obviously tell I was still confused, because he chuckled. "Hey, do you want to go eat?"

I nodded as I heard my stomach growl. "Sure. I don't want to stay down here any longer."

----------

We walked for a bit, mostly in silence, with some random conversation breaking the tension when needed. Trunks knew his way around the cellar well- something, when I noted it, he attributed to frequently getting lost as a child.

"Then at my rate I should know this place inside out within a week," I said.

"It's not the easiest place to find your way through, that's for sure." He pulled a few cobwebs out of the way and stepped up onto a set of stairs. Ever the young gentleman, he stepped aside to let me through.

I smiled and began up the stairs, having half a mind to lift my skirts off the ground- even though I wasn't wearing any at the moment. I laughed slightly at myself. Usually chivalry was something I percieved as being saved for those who can't help themselves- although at this moment I was feeling slightly helpless with all these bandages.

"I feel like a walking mummy," I commented sarcastically as I made it to the top of the stairs and found myself on the other side of the courtyard from where I had started. I blushed as I heard my stomach growl.

Trunks laughed. "Come on, kaasan's probably cooking breakfast."

---------

I sat back in the chair. "That was great, Bulma," I thanked her. "Thank you."

She waved her hand. "Don't mention it." She opened her mouth to say more when a belch came from across the table. I looked over and saw Gohan sitting there, patting his stomach.

"Gomen," he said as we laughed.

"Gohan-san," Trunks began lecturing, "that was rather-" He stopped and sat there for a second, then belched.

"And what were you saying?" Gohan asked, leaning over the table.

"Nothing," Trunks replied, and I giggled. He turned to me. "Hey, what's so funny?"

I waved my hand. "Nothing," I said, and began to laugh as he blushed.

"So, Trunks, where were you before?" Gohan looked Trunks in the eyes, dead serious. "Your kaasan here was starting to worry."

Trunks looked around cooly, although a bit skiddishly, I noticed. "I..."

I decided to jump in. "I had wandered into the cellar and gotten lost." I looked at Trunks. "Trunks here was kind enough to come find me and help me out."

Gohan glanced at the both of us, nodded, and sat back. I thought I caught a hint of a smile as he nodded, but I dismissed it as the painkillers playing tricks on me.

----------

I smiled at the familiar click and hum of my modem connection. I had mail. Whoopy.

The computer itself was virtually ancient- an old laptop that had to have been a foot across, a foot long, and an inch thick. The only upside to it was that it had a LRM, also known as a Long Range Modem. It worked on the same principles of cellular phones and two-way radios. The data would basically "fly" through the air to anywhere around the world- without such unnecessary accessories like telephone lines. Pretty simple concept, when you think about it.

I clicked on my mailbox and a slew of messages appeared. I hadn't checked it in weeks. I flipped through them randomly, mentally noting each as I went. 'Ads, ads, ads, pornography, ads, more pornography-'

I stopped as I reached one e-mail. Jessy, my old buddy. I hadn't talked to her in a while. I read it.

"Mei-chan,

"Are you okay? This is just to make sure you've made it to China safe and sound. I've been trying to reach you for a clear week. How long is that flight of yours taking anyway?

"Bad news. The androids have hit us again- hard."

I stopped. This was some sort of sick joke, right...?

"Casualties are racking up by the thousands. The only survivors are presumed to be the ones like you and I who were out of the country at the time. Everyone else is missing or presumed dead."

I shook my head as my eyes began to well with tears. 'No, this is all a practical joke...!'

"I've tried to reach Andrea and Abagail. If they're still alive, they're in hiding somewhere and are probably afraid to send any e-mail because of the androids intercepting data."

I shook my head frantically, not taking my eyes off the screen. "No, this can't be happening... Andy...! Gail...!"

"I have to go. I think the androids have intercepted this message. They'll be coming after me soon."

My eyes were burning. I began to cry outloud. "No, no no no no... Jess... Not you too..."

"Godspeed, Mei-chan. God be with you.

"-Jes"

An inexplicable feeling of deathly calm swept over me, freezing my insides, pain shooting through the pit of my stomach. My eyes strained at the light of the computer screen, the words losing all shape, blurring as my eyes unfocused, and after a moment, slowly, gradually began to fill with tears. It was then I felt myself internally collapse. Not collapse like after being yelled at by my parents, or fighting with my friends, or in fear of a report card. This collapse was complete, a painful crumbling of years of denying the inevitable. I bent over and slowly began sobbing, quietly, feeling with each tear a life slip through my fingers, with each sob growing slowly in volume. Everyone I'd ever known or loved was gone now... Everyone... My family, my friends, my teachers, even Sara and Garrett... I sat there, cross-legged, doubled over, my face in my hands, tears pouring, burning against my cheeks. I saw so many images, faces come back to me... Licking the beaters while my mother baked me cookies... my father picking me up after I'd won my first game... My brothers helping me ride my first bike... Andrea and I crashing into each other for the first time... Gail and I sitting in the back of Chorus and making fun of the teacher... my teachers and I laughing at the broken PA system... and Sara and Garrett and I sitting and playing together...

My shoulders burned from supporting my weight against my knees. I couldn't stop the tears, as if all my crying could somehow, by some miracle of God, bring them back... Bring back my life, my friends, my hope... what little innocence I had clung to so desperately for all these years, burying myself in my tiny world of cookies and games and bicycles and friends... and hope... and the poems my mother used to sing to me to put me to sleep... About birds and trees and angels, and old mother west wind and her merry little breezes that would come and tickle you when you felt sad... Andrea's perpetual belief that whenever the wind blew and the blossoms floated off the trees, her guardian angel was with her. I had buried myself in a tiny little halucinogenic world where dreams and wishes could come true, given time. A place where if you made a wish on a firefly or on a cherry blossom and released it into the wind, it could carry all the happiness in the world back to you, if you waited long enough. I had resigned myself to childish beliefs, foolish daydreams, fairytales where good always won over evil, and the belief that good would come to those who waited. I had waited since I was three years old, when I first made a wish on a cherry blossom, for the world to be happy like my mommy and daddy had said it used to be, and set it off into the wind... I had waited, and waited, and had refused to make any wishes since... I had waited for years... Nine years.... The longest years where I found my innocent little world shrinking and shrinking as the realities of horror and death and destruction attacked at the gates of my imaginary palace, steadily gaining ground. My armies of hope and faith lead by my friends and families couldn't stop any of it.

And if they couldn't, I didn't stand a chance.

I felt my body shake with sobbing at all this, at how I had deluded myself into thinking I was strong and beautiful and a force to be reckoned with, when in the broad scale of things I was just I statistic waiting to be put on the growing list of casualties. Names, stories, *people*- all slapped with a number and put on a graph. I was just as good or bad as everyone else as far as they cared. I was a number. And so was everybody I had come to rely on.

My shoulders heaved with sobbing as I heard the door creak open. Looking up with my back to the door, I saw a shadow cast on the opposite wall overlapping mine.

"Mei-san?"

I curled up into a ball and sat there, tears silently streaming down my face. I couldn't let Trunks see me like this. I've gotta be some kind of weakling to him. I rested my forehead on my knees and spoke quietly.

"They got everybody. There was nothing anybody could do to stop them- it all happened so fast." My voice was soft, so soft that I wondered if had heard me at all, if any sound actually reverberated from my throat.

"Oh Jesus..." His voice trailed off, and I could feel the air grow dense as the final whisps of sound faded.

I let my shoulders rise and fall, now regular and shallow. The sobbing stopped, and the tears just trickled down my face, gently burning my eyes. In my shallow breaths I could faintly smell the wet denim under my face. For a moment I lost all feeling of where I was, who I was, what had happened... I could almost feel Garret laying soundly beside me, his breathing regular and deep, his hair falling in loose waves over his eyes.

I was shaken back to reality by the sound of footsteps coming over. I didn't look up- I never let anybody see me this broken besides Andy... And she wasn't there.

"Mei, are you alright?" Trunks' voice was softer than usual, with less of its usual edge.

I laughed ironically through my tears. 'Alright? Does it really look like I'm alright? Here he is, a kid whose been training himself to go up against two undefeatable enemies, to watch his back at all times, and he's still blind enough to wonder if I'm alright? If this is somebody's joke, then they've got a pretty damned sick sense of humor.' I put one hand to my forehead, letting my hair fall between my fingers. What was the point in hiding it all? I'd be dead soon anyway- we all would. Maybe not Gohan, because Gohan seemed strong enough to survive for a few more years... But we were all doomed to death because of overly-ambitious scientist and a sick thing he called his 'dream.' Dreams were things of beauty- this was a nightmare. This was Hell.

I felt tears continue to fall. I shook my head, not even bothering to look up and note Trunks' reaction. "The funny part is- Nobody thought it would happen to them. Everybody was so damn foolish and self-centered that they tricked themselves. They never even saw it coming."

I felt a hand rest on my arm. I looked up slowly, my face a mix of pain and complete hopelessness. Trunks looked surprised. His hand slowly moved up to my face, resting on my cheek, almost like he was studying the tear lines. It suddenly snapped to me.

'He's never seen tears, has he? Somebody who expects to go up against the androids and he's *never seen anybody cry*!'

Before I knew what was happening, I found myself with my head leaning on Trunks' shoulder. I needed to cry...

He sat there awkwardly for a moment, arms slighty out to the side from surprise. After a moment of awkward silence, he slowly put his arms loosely around me, his hands on my back. It was then that I noticed for the first time how small he really was- his hands were bony, his shoulders were as small as my own, his voice hadn't even cracked yet.

Yet, for a moment, I wondered if I had really lost anything at all.

----------

I don't know how long we sat there like that. Trunks was a bit rigid- I could tell he was uncomfortable. After a while the tears stopped, and I slowly sat back up again. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.

"God, Trunks, I'm sorry..." I sniffled a bit and rubbed my eyes.

Trunks shook his head. "It's okay. I guess, well, anybody would have reacted like that." I could tell from his voice that the 'guess' part of it was probably the only truth in his words.

I curled up again, my eyes reddened, and wrapped my arms around my legs. "It's just... Even Garrett... Of all people..."

Trunks paused for a bit, and looked at me, somehwat quizically, I noticed. "Garrett....?"

I let out a quick puff of breath, like a child does before it bursts into tears. "There's an old saying... 'A simple child, that lightly draws its breath, and feels its life in every limb...'" -here I stopped and rested my head on my knees- "'what should it know of death?'"

Trunks blinked. "Jesus, you mean-"

I nodded slightly. "Garrett was five years old. His sister Sara was only three." I felt my eyes begin to well up again, and frustratedly rubbed the back of my hand across my eyes. "I would babysit them all the time... I remember, every time I walked in the door, Garrett would run up and wrap his arms around my knees, and start blabbering about how he hadn't seen me in five million bagillion zillion years, and Sara would run up and try to hug me and Garrett but ended up only being able to reach around Garrett. We'd play for hours on end, little imagination games where we lived in this magical kingdom and we would fight off all the bad guys for the king and queen. And they'd evenutally just lay down and fall asleep, Garrett curled up into this little ball, his legs tucked inside this big oversized sweatshirt he had..." I felt myself chukling slightly at the memory of his little naked bottom sticking out from under the covers after he'd managed to wiggle out of his shorts. "And Sara would sleep right next to me with her head on my shoulder, one arm around her teddy bear and the other stretched over my stomach like I was her mother..." I sniffled slightly and my eyes began to well up. "Sara once told me about a dream she'd had. It was a little girl's dream, the same kind I used to have when I was her age... Where she rode a magical pony into a place where the grass was sugar and the lake was apple juice, and everything was candy and ice cream and cookies, and the sky was this incredible blue that she had never seen before..." I blinked and a tear rolled down my cheek. "Neither of them ever did anything wrong... They were just angels with disheveled halos and tiny wings." I laughed ironically and felt another tear go way of the first. "And yet, here I am, this kid who everybody in school hated, who everybody knew was a freak... Here I am, breathing, alive and as well as one can be in this hell of a world, and Sara and Garrett, and my mom and my dad, my brothers, my teachers, Andrea and Gail... Dammit, what the hell is going on?"

----------

The next few days passed uneventfully. I stayed in my room a lot, mostly in bed, crying and sleeping. I had fallen into bouts of depression before- when Bulma became worried, I reassured her that I'd be fine after a couple of days. I just needed to be left alone.

It took more than just a few days, though. Days stretched on, and soon I found myself edging on a weeks' worth of lost appetite and little energy. I had eaten very little, which I suppose wasn't really noticed by Trunks or Gohan- the two were too busy sparring 24-7. Bulma was steadily becoming worried, and I was more frequently replying, "I'll be fine- it's happened before."

One day I finally woke up with a pang of severe hunger- it was so painful and I was so weak that I could barely get out of bed. Eventually I somehow mustered the strength to half-stagger into the kitchen, only to find a typical blue worker-robot hovering around. It turned its top lens towards me, beeped a few times, and a monotonous voice began spitting out at me.

"SUBJECT APPROVED. PROFESSOR NOTIFIED." It swerved around behind a chair, and two robotic arms deployed themselves from its sides, pulling out the chair. I weakly flopped into it, bending over with my hair falling in my face. I sat like that and heard the robot float over next to me, stopping beside the chair and making more beeping, clicking, and whirring sounds while its lens scanned me from top to bottom.

"LIQUID INTAKE BELOW NORMAL; SATURATED FAT INTAKE BELOW NORMAL; CALORIC VALUE IN ZONE BLUE. MADAM, YOU ARE SEVERELY UNDER-NOURISHED. SUGGEST FOOD IMMEDIATELY."

I blinked somewhat at the degree to which it could use free speech. It spun around, scooted out of the kitchen, and returned a moment later with a tray of fruit and milk.

I picked up a peice of what appeared to be some sort of deranged watermelon. "No pastries?"

It paused for a moment processing my reply. "PASTRIES TOO HIGH IN FAT AND CHOLESTERAL CONTENT. NOT APPROVED FOR SUFFICIENT RECOVERY."

I sighed. Studying the melon, I tasted a bit. Not bad, considering I hadn't eaten in nearly a week. I turned to the robot. "So what's *your* name, anyway?" Leave it to me to try to carry on a conversation with a robot.

It processed this for quite some time. "MY PROTOCOL NUMBER IS AX-572." Stupid question.

I sighed. "How about I just call you... Spek?" I noted the one large lens that it swiveled around its upside-down-bowl-shaped head, and took another bite of the melon.

Once again a long pause, interrupted solely by the beeping of its processors.

"NO UNPROCESSABLE DATA RECIEVED- 'SPEK' IT IS." It bobbed in the air slightly. I giggled somewhat at the fact it almost seemed like it was attempting to be human.

"So you're finally up, Mei?"

I turned to the doorway and saw a smiling Bulma leaning against the doorframe. "I'm glad you're okay," she said. "You had me worried back there." She walked over and pulled up a chair beside me. "So are you feeling better?"

I nodded. "I guess I finally got hungry enough to snap back to my porker self."

Bulma smiled slightly, and then glanced at Spek. "AX-572, I think Trunks is taking a break. Go check up on him, will you?"

The robot processed this for quite a while, while Bulma looked on curiously. "What's with AX-572?"

I giggled slightly. "I think it's picked up a nickname from me." I turned to the robot. "Spek?"

The processing noises ceased. "YES?"

Bulma laughed. "Go and check on Trunks, 'Spek.' He's taking a break." The robot obediently turned and careened out the door.

Bulma smiled. "Cute name."

I nodded and smiled. "It's what I used to call my brother Greg. I nicknamed him 'specs' because of the coke-bottle frames he always wore."

Bulma's faced turned noticibly serious. "Trunks told me about..." Her voice trailed off.

I sat there silently for a moment. I wondered how much he had told her...

"I'm okay, really." I waved my hand. "I have nothing to complain about, I guess..." I looked at Bulma with a sense of pity.

Bulma shook her head. "My family was all getting old, and my friends died fighting. Trunks' father was a strong warrior with a good heart, despite the fact that his ego could swell up and his head wasn't screwed on straight all the time. The more Trunks trains, the more and more I see his father there instead of him..." She sighed. "I'm just afraid how much farther it will go. Trunks' father would push himself to the breaking point, always straining his limitations, pushing himself until he couldn't physically take any more. Even then, he refused to stop- his pride blinded him, I suppose. He had a will of tempered steel, and was probably the most stubborn man I'd ever met." She scratched her head. "It's just... Trunks is pushing himself way past his level, and I'm beginning to wonder if Gohan-kun sees that. I mean, I know working harder is the only way to really improve, but Trunks is testing his physical limitations so much that he's almost pushing his *father's* limits. Trunks is less than half his father's age and has only half the experience- I'm just worried that he's trying to go too far too fast."

I sat there silently for a moment. Bulma was quickly becoming like a surregate mother to me. She reminded me so much of my own mother- strong, hard-working, supportive, worrying, proud. And yet, there was something there that I couldn't seem to grasp existing in such a woman- the softness, the proneness, the general openness of spirit. For lack of a better analogy, it was like a liquer-filled chocolate- the strong, hard-to-crack, sweet outside, and the warm, delicate, bittersweet sherry inside. It took a lot of strength to get through the outer layers, and, in most cases, a lot of time.

----------

Yet another few weeks passed. I recieved no more e-mails from Jessy, or anyone else, for that matter. I suppose the attack had been inevitable, really. The androids were created to be superhuman, jumping a rung in the evolutionary ladder. The were pure mechanical perfection- I had remembered David and his obsession over the "flawless" design.

I smirked ironically as the Astrolounge CD shuffled to "Defeat you", a personal favorite of mine. I paused for a moment, the lyrics forcing my brain back to Trunks, and for a moment I considered giving him the CD later. Shrugging, I hummed along to the opening bars and found myself singing along.

"Born is a human with a kungfu spine

equipped with a detector of what's on your mind

you jive you shuck you bob you weave

and when you're down you've got something up your sleeve

And you've got it good as bad as it gets

you make your own incisions that come with regrets

you're in to win and make every minute count

you put it all together and dish it out

Hey, I know where you're from

it makes it that much nicer to meet you

yeah, I know what you've done

it makes it that much better to defeat you

All that knowledge all those skills

all the gas it takes to get up top of the hill

and while others try to take your spot

you wanna make 'em stop but you gotta make 'em stop

Would you do anything whatever it takes

jacks in the road yeah fix the brakes

it's the instinct that's got us locked up tight

and it's the madness that's keeping us up all night

Hey, I know where you're from

it makes it that much nicer to meet you

yeah, I know what you've done

it makes it that much better to defeat you.

it's what we are

it's what we are

it's what we are

Born is a human with mechanics to win

born is a machine with a human tucked in

you jive you shuck you jab you stick

you're calling out for help when it gets too thick

your honor your honor it's not me

it's the invisible visible evil powers that be

untraceable insatiable having to feed

yeah you cry when you're wounded and you laugh when they bleed

Hey, I know where you're from

it makes it that much nicer to meet you

yeah, I know what you've done

it makes it that much better to defeat you...."

----------

I sat patiently with my back against a pillar, facing away from the courtyard. I suppose I was subconciously waiting for Trunks and Gohan to finish up their sparring- Trunks had somewhat grown on me, particularly considering he was the only person my age and was becoming a close friend. I wasn't sure what exactly it was about Trunks that made me feel a certain connection to him. We were two kids stuck in a volatile world, where nothing was ever really sure on a day-to-day basis. He seemed to have adapted to life in a place where the only two others alive were his mother and his trainer- I was somewhat amazed by the sense of self-supportiveness that he carried. He could take care of himself, and he knew it full well. I admired the way he could accept things- sort of like that old prayer, "give me the strength to alter that which I can change, the serenity to accept that which I cannot, and the wisdom to know the difference." Despite all this, I still had a nagging feeling that his "serenity" was only superficial, partially reinforced by his utter determination, coupled with his unusual reaction to tears. In the broad scale of things, he was certainly no innocent, but there was something beneath the skin that he kept very well hidden away.

I felt a drop of rain splash on my head, matting a small pat of hair. The temperature had lowered a few degrees from before as the rain began to fall lazily toward earth.

A small breeze cooled my shoulders temporarily and sent a few thin strands of hair blowing across my face. I brushed them away and turned to see how Gohan and Trunks were doing. Still fighting, even through the rain. I laughed, somewhat to myself. By now Trunks had completely tuned out everything in his surroundings save Gohan. The intensity in the eyes of both combatants was overwhelming- whatever kind of concentration they were mustering was beyond human boundaries.

Showing my typical grace equal to that of a three-legged frog, I stood halfway up, slipped on a damp spot, and fell back down into my original spot. I sighed. This was going nowhere. Muttering beneath my breath, I noted that this frog needed to turn back into a princess.

----------

I rolled over in bed. I couldn't sleep.

I really should have said something. I somehow knew that Gohan wasn't coming back from his "trip". Trunks had gone out after him some time ago, and neither Bulma nor I had heard from either of them. Bulma's rhythmic footsteps echoed down the hallway from her room. She was pacing. I knew it.

I closed my eyes and must have drifted off for quite some time, as I awoke to what sounded like sobbing. My eyes widened. No...!

I climbed out of bed and pulled a pair of shorts on under my oversized t-shirt. My feet numbed on the cold floor as I silently made my way to the door. The door creaked open with a gentle tap.

Slipping into the hallway, I barely noticed the sudden chill that made its way through the corridor. My feet carried me on their own will down the hall until I reached a door close to the end. The sobbing was coming from inside.

I went to kock on the door when I did a double-take. "Trunks?" I asked quietly. "Are you okay?"

The sobbing stopped. I heard him come to the door, pause a moment, and the door creaked open.

We stood there quietly for a moment, just looking at each other, each waiting for the other to say something. I didn't really have much I *could* say.

I noticed his reddened eyes. Their normally fiery look had been replaced with something that resembled total dissarray- like when you try to look and act like something doesn't phase you. Even his hair was overly mussed, like he had been sleeping fitfully, full of nightmares and visions of the turmoil that would eventually come.

I felt my body act on its own. My hand slowly reached out and touched his. I gazed down at the floor for a moment, then up at him again with a look of understanding. Gohan hadn't come back. Gohan would never come back. It was just the three of us now, alone in a psychotic world of androids and ki blasts and fighting.

Trunks closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. I felt his hand wrap around mine. He opened his lost, reddened eyes and gazed back at me. The only difference was a small hint of some distant, far-off emotion that I hadn't experienced for so long that I had completely forgotten what it was like.

It was hope.

And yet, in his tired gaze, the warmth of his hand around mine, and the soft silence of the moment, Trunks saw something that I hadn't. Bulma would almost surely never live to see the end of the terrible, lonely battle that lay ahead.

For now, it was just the two of us.

----------

Time passed. Days dragged into weeks. Weeks into months, months edging on a year. Trunks pushed himself harder and harder, often until he collapsed, unconcious from physical strain.

Bulma began work on *something*- whatever it was, I couldn't really be sure. From the technical babble and a few intellegable words stuck in randomly, it operated somewhat like a time machine- Trunks would have to go back to the past and give heart medicine to a man whose name I had heard only in legend.

"Son Gokou?!" I cried. "You *knew* him?!"

Bulma laughed and nodded. "Since I was about 13. We traveled around collecting dragon balls. Those were the best years of my life. Unfortunately, he died of some sort of strange degenerative heart disease that took me years upon years to understand. There was no medicine for it at the time, so nobody could save him. That-" she said with a hint of pride, digging through a drawer- "is where this little baby comes in." She grinned and pulled out a small bottle, no bigger than a large capsule. "Medicine. I cracked the disease a few weeks before you came."

"Wow," I said as she handed me the bottle. I gently turned it over in my hands, studying it intently, being careful not to shake it- after all, this *was* the only hope any of us really had. I handed it back to her. "So what exactly is your plan?"

She put the bottle back in its respective drawer. "Originally I was going to send Gohan back to before the attack, but quite obviously that hasn't worked out." I recoiled slightly at the calmness with which she brought the subject up. "Now I hope to send Trunks back. The machine won't be ready for at least another year. At that point I hope to send Trunks back to three years before the attack, to warn everybody and give Gokou the medicine. He'll come back, hopefully not mention to his father or my younger self that he's our son, and that's the end of it." By now her mouth was moving on its own and her eyes and brain were preoccupied with blueprints. "Realize, though, this is all in theory and based on no machanical trouble."

"PROFESSOR."

I turned at the now quite familiar voice. Spek bobbed in the air a few times and Bulma eventually turned her attention to him.

"What's up, Spek?" Bulma slid her glasses back into her hair and turned with a friendly smile towards the robot.

"CODE H-3.5.21.20."

Bulma and I sighed and glanced at each other. This one we were getting to know all too well.

Walking briskly beside her, I turned to Bulma. "Do you think that it'll ever reach a code blue?"

"3.21.21.22? At this rate, any day now."

"Let's pray it doesn't go past yellow for now. I'm just afraid-" I stopped there, not daring to mention what was past blue- 'H-31.3.21.4,1', aka code black. Nobody cared to bring that one up.

Turning my thoughts away from codes and stats, I found myself standing in front of the gravity chamber. I placed my hand in my pocket nervously as Bulma punched away at a small keypad next to the door. Spek hovered over next to me.

"READY?"

I nodded, exasperated. This was the fourth time in the past week we'd been through this. I felt a sharp puff of air in my eyes, and raised a hand infront of my face as the door slid open. With one hand fingering the small black box in my pocket and the other on the doorframe, I glanced around as Bulma walked over to the central unit and checked a few of the screens. Suddenly realizing I was still standing in the doorway, She glanced up at me and, with what I thought to be a roll of the eyes, pointed her thumb over to the distant end of the oval-shaped G-room.

I stepped inside as Bulma continued fiddling with the controls. I glanced around for a brief moment before scooting over to the end of the room and kneeling beside the unconcious Trunks. I checked his pulse. He was fine. Just pushed himself too hard, that was all.

Bulma trotted over, her ponytail flowing behind her. She knelt down next to me.

"The usual?"

"Yep."

She sighed and brushed a few strands of hair out of Trunks' face. "By now he's probably sound asleep. I get the head, you take the feet." I positioned myself at his feet, and, after of moment of great effort, the two of us were able to lift his limp- albeit heavy- form off the floor. It took us another five minutes to get him out the door, and two more to get him to the futon which was only about three meters from the door of the gravity chamber. Bulma had placed it there for just such an incident- something that was becoming all too frequent.

I looked at the sleeping Trunks. He wasn't pushing himself this hard and this fast to fight the androids now. I knew he was going to try and fight the androids in the past, and Bulma was completely oblivious. His keeper, his own mother had no clue.

After practically dropping him on the bed, I flopped into a chair across from the sleeping Trunks and attempted to catch my breath. "He's gotten- heavier- since the last- time." I sighed.

Bulma walked over in front of me. "Come on, you're young. Let the old lady have a seat." With a chuckle, I got up and positioned myself on the floor as Bulma took the chair.

"At this rate I'm going to be a hunchback before I reach 15." I rubbed my back.

Bulma smiled. "When you get old and tired and have kids then maybe I'll let you have the chair. Until then, it's sacred territory."

I laughed. "Speaking of which, isn't Trunks' birthday coming up?"

Bulma nodded. "Yeah, pretty soon. Shouldn't your birthday be coming up as well?"

I shook my head. "Actually, no. Mine was a while ago. I guess I just forgot about it, what with everything that's happening."

Bulma's smile disappeared. "You should've told me. When was your birthday, anyway?"

"February."

Bulma sighed. "So you're 14 already, huh? Time sure does fly when you're having fun." She rolled her eyes somewhat at the last remark.

I shook my head. "Actually, I turned 13 in Febraury. I guess I sort of lied to you when we first met. I always add a year on when I'm talking to somebody I don't really know. Stupid trick I picked up off my brother Greg. By now it's force of habit, I suppose."

Bulma's serious expression broke into a half-smile. "I used to do the same thing, actually. My papa was always on my case about it."

I sighed and leaned back. "See, the only problem I have is that I feel bad about not having anything to give Trunks. I guess I could try and make something, but I somehow doubt he'd have a use for anything I *could* make."

Bulma shook her head. "I don't think he really wants much." She began strumming her fingers on the arm of the chair. "All he wants to do is train. There's nothing we can do about it. I suppose I could up the gravity capacity in the G-chamber, but he's already reached 100x, and under that this keeps happening." She glanced in her son's direction and sighed. "I'm afraid he'll jump at the highest level and slip into a code blue- or worse."

I noddeed in agreement and flipped the few codes I knew in my mind. H-3.5.21.20, H-3.21.21.22, and H-3,1.3.21.4,1. The number were simply subsititues for letters according to their position in the alphabet. H-3.5.21.20 was basically *H*ealth- *C*ollapse *E*xhaustion *T*runks *S*table. First was the problem, then the cause or type, subject, and finally the condition.

H-3.21.21.22 was one we were positive he'd reach before his birthday. *H*ealth- *C*ollapse *T*otal *T*runks *U*nstable.

Then there was the final one, which neither of us ever brought up. Code black. H-3,1.3.21.4,1. *H*ealth- *C*ardiac *A*rrest *C*omplete *T*runks *D*ead on *A*rrival.

That would come, eventually.

----------

Trunks' birthday came and went. Bulma had upped the gravity capacity in the G-room, and I had sat quietly without much to give or say. Bulma had reassured me that it was okay, but the only comfort I got that day was a genuine smile from Trunks at the power scouter which I had, with much help from Bulma, roughly fixed up and patched back together. As far as Trunks himself went, it pretty much became routine for him to train all day, neglecting sleep or food. He collapsed quite literally every other day and got minute amounts of rest from it.

And, even though I was sure Bulma would try to discourage it if she knew, I would frequently sneek a look through the scouter that Trunks would someimes carelessly leave outside the G-room. At several points I had to turn it off at a moment's notice because of the rapid increase in power. Those times were becoming more and more daily.

The numbers shot up for the third time that day. I swore under my breath as they skyrocketed before I could lift my hand to the side button. I felt a burning sensation in my ear, and, before I had a chance to suck in my breath, it exploded. I swore rather loudly that time. In fact, I barely recall having a day in the week afterwards where my throat didn't burn heartily from the strain.

My hand immediately shot up to my ear, and I grabbed my wrist with my left hand, squeezing it. Maybe I was trying to draw the stinging, burning sensation out of my ear and into my wrist. By that point I didn't really know. I doubled over and glued my eyes shut. That thing had, quite literally, blown up on my ear.

After a while, I glanced over at the piece of garbage that lay on the floor a few feet away. The main box had blown itself open, and a few chips had blown themselves various distances from the old scouter. Hopefully, it was nothing I couldn't piece back together before anybody noticed. My technical skills were, at best, novice, but I had learned a thing or two from Bulma.

"MEI?"

I didn't even bother glancing over. "How long have you been sitting over there, exactly?"

"FIVE MINUTES, 24 SECONDS."

I sighed. I was nailed. "None of this ever took place, okay? Now can you get me an ice pack or something for my ear?"

Spek obediently beeped, turned, and scooted across the lab and out the door. Little thing was getting quicker at processing, and could recognize any of us by voice or reaction time, not to mention having gotten used to call Trunks and I by name, as opposed to 'madam' or 'sir'.

I reached over and pulled a chair out from Bulma's cluttered desk, my hand still cupping my ear painfully. Blueprints, papers, charts, graphs, pens, pencils, gadgets, pictures-

I stopped. Right there, poking out from behind unrolled blueprints and a practical plethora of half-empty pencil cases, was the corner of a wooden frame, dulled with age. I reached out, then stopped, as if I was reaching for a sacred talismen. Maybe a cursed one, I didn't know. But I felt my hand start again, brushing the frame with my fingertips, wrapping my hand around the wood and worn felt backing, feeling the full weight of glass and wood and paper as I gently picked it up.

I looked at it- it was one of those three-fold frames, sectioned and hinged so you could fold it and carry it. I had had one back at home- Andy and Gail on the outside and my school picture in the middle. It hadn't been the handsomest thing, and between the three of us nobody had been healthy or in high spirits that day. So we had joked about it, promising to get better pictures next year.

Next year.

This frame was different- it could hold three full-sized 5x6 photos. It held photos, but beneath the surface, it concealed a lot more than it revealed.

The first picture on the right was a decent-sized group picture. In the center-front of the group was a fairly young man, sitting on the grass with one arm around a dark-haired woman in a Chinese dress and a young boy- only about 6 or 7 years old- in his lap, who I presumed to be his son. His other arm was resting on the shoulder of a short, bald-headed man, grinning from ear to ear, to the right of him. Standing behind the young man was an old, bearded character with sunglasses, a tee-shirt, shorts, and a walking stick, who gave a nearly-toothless grin. On his right was a handsome fellow with long, curled hair, a few good-sized scars across his face, waving a victory sign while his floating cat companion hovered contently beside him. On his right was an odd character, a tall man with three eyes, a small, but genuine, smile, and an odd little clown-child bobbing happily next to him. Behind the old man, with his back to the camera, was an excessively tall, green Namek thats race I had recognized while reading up on biology back in school.

To the left of the old hermit there were yet more people. A young, pretty blonde-haired woman stood with a quiet smile and a somewhat bizarre look on her face (not to mention a pig standing next to her who seemed absolutely terrified of her). On her left was an older, violet-haired man who, for a moment, reminded me of an older Trunks with glasses. His arm was around a giggling woman with teased-blonde hair, who seemed like she had been giggling for quite some time before the picture and would be for quite some time after.

And, next to the dark-haired woman on the grass, sitting in front of the violet-haired man and his wife, was a young, smiling, blue-haired girl whose energetic smile almost seemed contagious. Her eyes had a sparkle of life to them that I hadn't seen in over a year. The woman in the picture knew of all the possibilities that lay ahead- both good and bad. She knew she would have many more adventures, many more laughs, and a good long time before she was ready to just sit back and observe life go by.

Of course, I recognized the girl- it was Bulma. Quite some time ago, though- by a guesstimate a good time before Trunks was born. Maybe eighteen years ago, or thereabouts.

I moved on to the next picture. There was Bulma again, a sleeping Trunks clinging on her back. Trunks himself was only about 3- still a cute, tiny little innocent. My, how times had flown.

I recognized Gohan fairly quickly. He was leaning against the wall of what I figured was the lab before things had gotten- well, hectic- particularly considering the room behind him was large, clean, and respectively empty aside from a few desks, cabinets, and tool shelves. He had a tired smile on his face, his arms folded, his jeans and shirt dingy and well-worn.

Next to Bulma was somebody I didn't recognize, and who hadn't been in the last picture. Though he wasn't particularly tall, he was very well-built, and his spiked hair seemed to make up for the difference in height. His brow was furrowed, and from the creases in his forehead, I figured it had to have been for quite some time. His eyes were intense, and shone with what an old friend had once called "the gleam of a warrior." The comment of my friend had been in reference to a blade, but the eyes on this man- if you could really call him that, for he seemed almost super-human- were blade enough as far as I was concerned. He was pretty much with his back to the camera, though I could see his folded arms and muscular build fairly clearly. Whoever he was, he was familiar in a way- almost like I knew him.

Shaking it off, I looked at the third picture- and stopped.

A girl sat there, her chair pushed out from her desk, bending over and reaching for something just barely out of her grasp. He head was turned somewhat towards the camera, and her mouth was open in what seemed to be a laughing yell at somebody off-camera. Her dirty blonde hair hung loosely, half of it still behind her shoulder, the other half falling lazily, tucked behind her ear. Her eyes held a look of temporary relief, not only from the insanity of the world around her, but also from herself.

It was me.

I blinked for a second. Here was a frame that was practically sacred- pictures of her friends, her family, all of whom save one were gone. And there I was, put in with them as if I, this confused kid, were somehow equal.

I knew the picture was me, and I didn't bother trying to convince myself otherwise. I had remembered Bulma taking it of me, while I had been reaching for a pencil to throw at Trunks after he had teased me about being a neat freak. It had been to get a laugh out of me, since both of us knew perfectly well that I was just about the messiest person on the face of the earth. I chuckled slightly to myself at the pencil-war that had ensued between Trunks and I, flinging pencils and pens and random junk at each other, trying to see who would run out or give up first. I had eventually given up and collapsed back in the chair from laughter.

I was jolted from my reverie by a loud beep in my ear. I jumped and spun to see Spek there, an ice pack in one of his "hands".

I sighed and put the picture frame back. "Thanks, Spek," I muttered half-heartedly, and took the ice pack.

Spek beeped a few times while I pressed the compress to my ear. "IS SOMETHING WRONG? YOU SEEMED DISTRACTED."

The robot was turning into a regular human. I shook my head. "No, Spek, I'm fine. Thank you."

I turned as I heard the steam locks on the G-room open. Something had to be wrong- Trunks never came out voluntarily. I stood, somewhat shakily.

Nothing happened.

I blinked. That was bizarre. Walking over, I felt a hint of fear rush through me. I put one hand back in my pocket and tossed the ice pack back on Bulma's desk. I nervously fingered the small black box that still sat in my jeans pocket. If he had finally slipped...

I took my hand out temporarily and knocked on the door. "Trunks?" I called. "Trunks? Are you okay?" No response. Silence.

I tested the door. Not locked, but still shut tight. I put my shoulder against the door and pushed. Nothing. I strained harder, my feet slipping against the tile floor. It wouldn't budge. If he was stuck in there...

I stepped back as I heard a low, half-concious mutter. Silence followed.

"Trunks?" I called through the door. "You okay?"

A few seconds of dazed silence followed, and then Trunks' voice came back. "Oh, Mei. Sorry about that. Hang on." He sounded fine, chipper as ever.

The door opened, and I, releaved, took my hand out of my pocket and away from the box. Trunks stepped out, tired as I think I'd ever seen him, but still concious and acting fine.

I forced a frown. "You scared me back there. I thought you had passed out again, or worse."

Trunks waved his hand. "I'm fine, I'm fine. I just took a nap. Don't get all worked up about it."

I sighed and felt a smile creep back onto my face. Trunks *was* my friend, after all. Not much I could do.

"Try to take a nap out here next time, okay? That thing's programmed to open the steam locks and notify Spek whenever you lose conciousness- be it from passing out or sleeping."

He shrugged and nodded. "Sure. But in the meantime, can I get something to eat?"

"Only if you can cook."

"That was below the belt, Mei."

"It was intended to be."

I smirked and Trunks shook his head, though a small smile did cross his face. He glanced at the picture frame that now sat on Bulma's chair. I bit my lower lip and cursed at myself. So much for being descreet.

To my surprise, Trunks smiled a bit. "You got to look at that?" I nodded numbly. "My tousan is in the one with me and kaasan and Gohan. I never really knew him." He shrugged inadvertantly and moved towards the door.

"You sure you're not gonna join me for lunch?" He asked, his smile suddenly returning. He could sure change moods quickly.

I shook my head. "No, not right now. If you destroy anything in the kitchen, though, it's your problem." I smirked somewhat at the last comment.

"Keep this up and you'll be a lousy wife," he teased.

I grabbed a pencil and flung it at him. He dodged. "That was low, Trunks!"

"It was intended to be!" With a satisfied smirk, he ducked out the door.

I sighed and shook my head. These moments were getting to resemble Andy and I in the cafeteria. I felt a smile creep across my face. I know Trunks never meant anything in the wife jokes, but Bulma hated hearing them anyway. Reminded her too much of Trunks' father. We always laughed about it, though.

I felt my stomach growl. I glanced at the broken scouter laying a few feet away. Descisions, desicisions...

Without another thought, I picked up the scouter and threw it onto Bulma's desk on my way out the door.

----------

Trunks glanced at me again. "Your ear's red," he finally said.

I nodded. "Yeah, I banged the side of my head against the lab door frame this morning and put an ice pack on it." Ah, little white lies were sweet...

Trunks didn't break his gaze for another moment, then turned his attention back to his food. Okay, so he didn't believe me. At least he had the courtesy not to bring it up again. There was a quality I always lacked.

Bulma impatiently tapped the end of her pencil against the table. The blueprints for the master cell of the time machine were gathering a coffee ring from the mug that held its corner. Bulma was incessently muttering to herself- technical babble, mostly. I heard a few pieces of what I figured, for lack of a better guess, was a strand of binary code slip themselves in every now and then. Trunks and I sat in silence, although Trunks had the luxury of putting his undivided attention into eating. I, however bottomless my stomach might have seemed, had eaten my share and tilted back in my chair, watching Bulma's internal calculator handle problems that my math teachers would have collapsed at the thought of.

"Kuso!" I looked up and saw Bulma bang her fist on the table. "I can't figure out what's clogging the damn thing up!"

I let my chair fall back to the ground. "What's the problem with the core?"

She sighed and removed her glasses from their nose-high perch. She exasperatedly rubbed her eyes. "A loose part is gunking the central core. The vaccuums haven't been able to pick it up, and I just can't figure out where it is, what it is, let alone how to get to it!"

I glanced at the blueprints. "That *is* weird. Couldn't you send Spek in the core and have him probe around in there?"

Bulma shook her head and looked up at me. "No, Spek's too large to fit into the core. His arms wouldn't be able to maneuver around the circuitry."

"Manual?"

"Possibly. I'd have to work on his reciever unit, though, and updating it like that will set us back a good two months."

Trunks glanced up. "Two months? You're kidding, right?"

Bulma shook her head. "I wish I were. If we don't find out what's gunking up the core, then you're not going back at all. It's two months or another two years to pull that thing apart and rebuild it."

Trunks opened his mouth to protest, but I cut in. "So how wide, exactly, is the core?"

Bulma sighed and glanced at the blueprints. "It's got a diameter of 40.2561 inches."

I waved my hand. "No, not the total core- the core minus the master cell. How big is the margin between the two?"

Bulma blinked slightly. "I don't know..." She glanced at the blueprints again, did some quick calculations in her head, and glanced back up again. "Roughly 9 inches. Why?"

I pulled a strand of hair out of my face. "So, in theory, the margin is large enough for, say, a pair of human arms to fit through?"

Bulma shook her head. "Oh no. I know what you're getting at, Mei, and it's a noble attempt, but-"

"BUT nobody here has arms that are both long enough and thin enough, and knows how to operate it." I folded my arms. "I could stick a mini-flashlight down there with a camera probe attached to it and see if we find anything. You'd be watching on a vid screen and telling me where to move."

Bulma sighed. "Mei-"

"I'm serious, Bulma. If you decide not to do this, then fine, but it's an extra two months of time that I can fairly say is more than needed."

Bulma sighed. "You're just as stubborn as he is." She glanced at Trunks, and I grinned somewhat. "The only problem will be getting around the circuitry." She looked up at me. "You think you're up to it?"

I grinned. "If I'm not then I will personally rebuild the central core."

"Let's hope it never comes to that." Bulma shook her head. "Now, if you two wil excuse me, I've got work to do." Lifting her coffee mug off the corner of the blueprints, she rolled the papers in one hand and walked out with a coffee cup in the other.

I turned to Trunks. "You SO owe me."

Trunks grinned. "I've got to admit, though, that was a tough one. Risking an appendage in the name of science."

"In the name of life, in our case." I crossed my eyes upward and studied the cieling.

"If you screw up then you're not only gonna hear it from kaasan."

I smirked. I knew it full well.

----------

I glanced up from my work at Bulma, who was busily tinkering away at something which my untrained eye classified as scrap. My brain kicked in rudely and insisted that it had to have been something useful, but my eyes merely reported what they saw.

Bulma sighed and looked up for a moment, letting her eyes relax. "Mei, can you bring me-"

I extended her coffee mug to her. She looked up and smiled.

"Am I really that predictable?" She took the mug and leaned back in her chair.

I nodded. "True genuis is measured by how much your thoughts surprise people, not how much coffee you drink."

"Deep," she said, and took a sip.

"Mark that one up to my brother Greg," I chuckled. "Oh, by the way, I almost forgot to give this to you." I plucked up the flashlight and tossed it to Bulma. She caught it. "I taped a camera on it. No sense in building a whole new one."

Bulma looked over it, glanced at what she had been tinkering with, and shook her head. She smiled somewhat. "I've gotta learn to think simpler."

----------

I sucked in a sharp breath and froze.

Bulma let out a sigh of relief. "Thank Dende- you nearly caught the main power cables. Now move around to the right, *very* slowly."

I gently maneuvered the flashlight to the right, making sure to avoid various cables and circuits. I barely avoided several cables that would've easily taken off my arm, had the current been flowing at maximum capacity. As they were, though, I would've been lucky to escape connecting with one of those with a third-degree burn and a scar the length of my forearm and the depth of a pencil point.

Bulma sat a few meters away, her gaze intently fixed on a fiber-optic monitor about the size of a computer screen. The picture's sharpness revealed the inner circuitry of the central core as I slowly wove my way around.

"Okay, I think I see something. Just a bit farther to the right." Bulma narrowed her eyes at the screen.

I stretched a bit more on my stomach and turned the light obediently. I twisted my foot sideways so the sole of my sneaker kept me from slipping down the curved edge of the time machine. Spek hovered a few feet in front of me, working solely as a transmitter for the picture, the rest of his circuitry shut down for the time being. Trunks sat next to me, watching me intently to make sure I didn't slip, and to catch me if I did.

Bulma banged her fist against her desk. "TRUNKS!"

"Nani?"

Bulma's eyes narrowed as she spun on her son. "Let me guess- the shoulder strap to your sword is missing." Trunks sat quietly, and as I turned my head, I thought I saw him flush a bit.

Bulma's eyes narrowed and her face flushed with anger. "I found it."

I sighed and let my head fall against the metallic surface of the machine, I restraining the urge to repeatedly bang my forehead. Trunks laughed nervously.

"Gomen," he forced, and scratched his head. "I... guess I should've brought it up earlier."

Bulma spun back to the screen, and pulled a keyboard in front of her from the side of her desk. "Mei, I'm turning the vaccuums on in reverse. It should blow it far enough so you can reach it."

Sure enough, I felt blasts of air stab my hand, and the cool brush of leather against my fingers. I shifted the flashlight in my hand and plucked the strap inbetween my first two fingers. After a few seconds of delicate maeuvering, I pulled the brown leather strap out of the core and held it in the air. Bulma turned to me, saw the strap, glared at Trunks, and turned back to her computer.

I sighed and was able to shift myself into a sitting position. I absentmindedly let myself fall backwards- then realized there wasn't anything to fall back on. I cried out, felt myself falling back, back-

I suddenly felt an arm around my back. I realized I must have been laying completely horizontal by then, because I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was the ceiling.

"You okay?"

I turned to see Trunks with one arm around my back, his other hand on my shoulder. "I guess..." I sat up again.

"If you have to space out, space out while you're on the ground," he said, somewhat seriously.

I glanced down. We were a good 20-30 feet in the air on top of this thing. I had sort of piggybacked up here, hanging on to Trunks for dear life as he flew to the top of the machine. Okay, so flying wasn't my thing. Not much choice there since Bulma had taken the scaffolding down for fear of the heat from the machine burning the wooden boards.

"Okay, guys, you can come back down. The core's clear," Bulma muttered agitatedly. She punched a few more keys and put her chin in her hands and her elbows on the desktop.

"Ready?" Trunks shifted himself so his back was to me. I obediently put my arms around his neck and scooted closer.

"Yep," I replied, and felt myself lift off the metal. My heart raced as I glanced at the floor below. It was really an exhilerating feeling to be suspended by nothing this high off the ground.

Although I wasn't sure if it was completely the hieght making me feel that way, I tried to keep my mind off it. But there came the thought again. He *was* my best friend- the only real soul who I had learned to trust. I had an affection for Bulma, obviously, being as she had become a mother figure to me- but she was always busy working on something-or-other, and I had so much time to myself that it was dizzying.

But Trunks was different. Trunks was the object of a deep-rooted affection- something I couldn't explain. Maybe it was because he was a kindred soul, somewhere under all those different layers of smiles and determination. Maybe he was such a good friend because it was a challenge to figure out what he was going to do next- or what really was down beneath the external contradictions.

But my affection had gotten stronger for him over time. He had quite a while ago told me about his bizarre heritage and reaching Super-Saiya-jin level, and now I fretted constantly while he was in the G-room. He was still my closest friend, the only person who I could honestly say I would trust with my life- and, somehow, I wondered if I was beginning to trust him with more.

----------

"What the-?!" I jumped out of my chair and ran over to the door. Bulma's air car pulled to a screeching halt and I ran outside through the rain. "Bulma, what happened?!"

Bulma turned to me. Her face was soaked, and though the weather hid it well, it wasn't from the rain. Tears ran down her face. "It's Trunks," she called back over the pound of the rain. Her hair was matted firmly to her face and she pulled a few strands away from her eyes.

My eyes widened. No... I knew he had left for something, but I never thought it had been this-!

Without a second thought, I opened the back door of the aircar to see an unconcious and badly bleeding Trunks sprawled listlessly across the backseat. I swore loudly, almost like I was shouting at the heavens for doing this. I would have sworn even more- if there had been time.

Bulma took hold of the collar on Trunks' shirt and began to pull. I stood next to the door, ready to take him by the feet when he got out. Bulma strained under his weight for a moment, and, as she was hit with a pang of determination and sheer maternal instincts, gave one final pull on his collar. He slid out of the backseat, and Bulma put her arms under his as I lifted him by the feet. His strength was a double-edged sword- it also made him nearly impossible to carry. He was a good hundred kilos- but that didn't seem to stop Bulma.

I looked up at her through the rain. Her eyes were clamped shut in pure determination, and I felt Trunks straigten a bit as she began moving towards the door. I followed, and, after a minute of strain and internal panic on my part, we finally got him indoors and to his room. Neither of us spoke apart from curses stuck in randomly, shifted between being directed at the androids, Trunks, ourselves, and anything that happened to be unfortunate enough to be in our way.

I finally let go of his feet as Spek careened into Trunks' room. The robot scanned Trunks, who was now laying flat on his bed, and immediately zipped over to Bulma.

"Spek, bring me gauze, bandages, and the calcinine." Bulma was calming somewhat, though her voice was still tense. She knew now we had bought Trunks some time, but if nothing was done within the next hour, then he was gone.

Spek obediently zipped out of the room. I looked at Bulma, then at Trunks. Bulma was bent over Trunks, trying to asess the wounds. I followed her gaze. Trunks had been beaten, alright- badly. I found myself questioning for a moment if he was actually going to live through it. He had deep gashes all over his arms, legs, and torso, not to mention blood pouring from an open wound on his head. What wasn't bleeding was burned, and Bulma knew the extent of the damage deeper than I ever could.

Spek returned with the gauze, bandages, and a small white bottle that looked more like a food capsule than anything else. Bulma took the bottle, and, without another word, opened it and took out two tiny white tablets. She opened Trunks' mouth and put them in.

"Come on, swallow..." She bit her lower lip and Trunks weakly swallowed. He was slipping in and out of conciousness at the drop of a hat. I knew from personal experience that it was never a good thing to have happening.

I stood there awkwardly for a moment. Bulma, noticing my idlness, handed me a piece of gauze and motioned to a large wound on Trunks' arm. I obediently pressed the pad on the wound to try and slow the bleeding while Bulma set herself steadily about patching him up further.

After a few minutes of dead silence, I opened my mouth. "Shouldn't we take care of the one on his head?"

Bulma didn't even look up while she bandaged Trunks' leg. "That's only a surface wound. If he had cracked his skull open then he wouldn't be alive."

I sucked in a sharp breath. Bulma's voice was cold, deathly cold. I knew her well enough to be able to tell that she was internally collapsing. The *was* her only son, and he was chosen by some sick cosmic plan to go out and risk his life to beat a mechanical monstrosity that nobody had ever dreamt of challenging.

I looked up as she gently pushed my hand aside and changed the gauze. She bandaged his arm tightly. I watched her closely, worrying. She must have noticed my reaction, because as she finished, she turned to me and smiled.

"You did a good job to stop the bleeding," she commented. With that, she silently excused herself and walked out.

I watched her go as I reeled from her smile. It wasn't a real smile. It was cold, empty, bitter.

And I suddenly realized why.

Nobody had ever survived meeting the androids. Nobody she had ever held dear had survived. Nobody she had ever *known* had survived.

Except me.

Trunks was her only son, dying while trying to fight off the androids, and here was this teenage girl who just happened to have a stroke of bad luck on a trip to China. A girl who had lived a perfectly happy life. And she had survived.

But she just didn't deserve to.

Then there was her son, Trunks, a boy who had struggled most of his life, had lost his innocence, all to go up against the androids and win. To survive. And he was the one laying helplessly, slowly dying because of a cosmic coincidence of bad luck.

I looked at Trunks. He deserved to pull through this more than I had deserved to live through my own breif encounter. He was great, the example of something I had secretly wished to be but had never quite gotten to be. He was a fighter. If something stood in his way, he attacked it with everything he had. Me? I just gave up and tried to find a way around it.

Trunks stirred slightly. I jumped and looked at the digital alarm clock by his headboard. I had been thinking by myself for quite a while- nearly an hour. It was almost 6 in the morning. Lucky for all of us I had been too edgy to sleep.

Trunks stirred again and began mumbling. Spek hovered in.

"Spek, go get Bulma. Tell her Trunks is coming to," I told him, and he obediently skidded out the door. I turned back to Trunks.

"Trunks?" I asked quietly. "Trunks? Can you hear me?"

He mumbled a few more times, and, before I knew it, Bulma was walking over beside me. She knelt down next to his bed.

"Trunks? Trunks..." Bulma's face twisted into a restrained mixture of joy and terror.

"Huh...? Whe... what the...?" Trunks opened one of his eyes. "Kaasan?"

Bulma smiled. By now I was out the door, smiling through my tears.

----------

"Mei?"

I looked up from my laptop to see Bulma standing in my doorway. I forced a smile. "Oh, hey. What's up?"

Bulma sighed. "I'm sorry... about this morning. I didn't mean to snap at you like that."

I shook my head. "Don't be. You were justified."

She folded her arms and tapped her upper arm. "It's fine with me if you want to keep on believing that," she said, breaking into a weak smile, "but I've apologized. I'm too stubborn to do this again."

I chuckled. "You remind me of my brother. He didn't really dislike apologizing- he just didn't like it when people expected it."

Bulma smiled. "Sounds like we would have had a lot in common."

I winced. "Please, don't say that. It was sickening how many girls said that about him. I was surprised he didn't collect a harem."

Bulma laughed slightly. "Sounds like Trunks' father. Girls liked him because of his looks."

"So did he just live with a bunch of women following him around?"

"No. Eventually they got to know him."

I laughed. "Sounds like my brother alright. Perhaps we're related."

Bulma shook her head. "Were you born with a tail?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Not to my knowledge."

She laughed. "I love it when people react like that. The tail is a Saiya-jin race characteristic. That and sheer stubbornness."

I smiled. "Some have a will of tempered steel, I've got one of pre-chewed bubblegum."

Bulma chuckled. "Now you're beginning to sound like Yamucha. He was my boyfriend before I met Vegeta. Couldn't do anything from beginning to end."

"Now *that*," I began, "sounds more like my brother."

----------

"Can you pass me those pliers?"

Jolted from my light nap, I glanced around. Bulma had her head inside the core, fussing over some wires that had been strained during my probing a week back. She extended her hand and I glanced over at the pile of tools that lay next to me. I plucked up a pair of pliers and handed them to her. She took them without ever taking her head out of the core. There was a good foot worth of wire-free space from the top down, but I still didn't think it was the smartest idea in the world to stick your head in there. I had suggested letting Spek do the repairs, but, Bulma being- well, Bulma- she had insisted on doing it herself, and Spek had been set about tidying up the lab.

I sighed lightly and glanced off the edge of the scaffolding. It had been put back up since the source of the- ahem- problem in the core had been fixed.

Bulma began toiling away with the circuitry, and, realizing it was going to take at least half an hour, I laid back down for another nap.

Sleeping was rare lately- a luxury that was, in Bulma's and Trunks' case, ignored, and, in my case, simply done without. I had taught myself to sleep lightly, very lightly, and to fall asleep quickly. I could catch a few half-hour naps inbetween helping Bulma and/or Trunks, which in itself did me some good, considering I got about an hour's worth of decent sleep on average. Put that with my scattered, 15-minute naps every now and then, and overall I got maybe 4 hours of real sleep in a day.

Even when I tried to sleep, though, I just couldn't. Plagued by horrible nightmares when I slept too deeply, I tried to occupy myself as much as possible- though, at this point, there was nothing more I could do.

Though a few people would obviously have frowned on this, I thought that everybody followed their dreams, in one way or another. Good dreams often came before good things. Bad dreams, though, nightmares...

Even when my recurring nightmares were pushed aside, I had an odd feeling, like everything around me was reaching some sort of cosmic breaking point. Not that I was scared, or tense- in fact, I was rather calmed by the thing. It was like everything was out of my control now, that my tiny little world of fairies and sugar and self-controlled happiness was completely gone, like it had really been gone for longer than I could reach back. Everything was out of my hands now. The breaking point would be reached, whether I tagged along or not. My world was no longer my responsibility, partially because it didn't exist anymore.

One thing that bothered me strongly was the fact that Bulma still didn't seem to know about Trunks' personal agenda while back in the past. He was definately planning to go up against the androids again at one point or another in the past, and his mother sat and worked through it. Maybe she knew, and the work was her way of keeping her mind off it. I didn't know, but it disturbed me nonetheless.

Though I was relatively calm about all of that, I was still terrified- no, terrified is too strong. Just scared. Frightened, somewhat. Frightened that everything around me, if it ever did reach its breaking point, would crumble when it did so.

And I would be left.

Alone.

Again.

----------

I heard Bulma's voice- I felt my shoulder being gently shaken. Though it wasn't a strange feeling in itself, something was in Bulma's voice.

Or rather, was gone from her voice.

I opened my eyes and sat up. I was almost completely concious, though things were still slightly blurred. I had learned to wake up quickly and when needed.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, and turned to her.

Bulma nodded half-heartedly. "Trunks is leaving today."

I blinked. Already? I pulled my watch off my bedpost and looked at the date. She was right. Today was it.

I got out of bed and Bulma left to go make everybody some breakfast. I sat and watched her sympathetically as the light caught her glistening eyes. She needed to be alone.

So did I.

I got up and got dressed. I pulled on my jeans, my shirt, my sneakers- but all mechanically. There was nothing enthusiastic in my movement like there had been before. My mind was wandering while my body robotically followed its routine. It had been three long years since I had arrived here- three summers, three springs, three falls, three winters, three Christmases, and nine birthdays.

All had past without me ever seeing them.

I was fifteen now- I had made it this far without high school, or dances, or boyfriends- wht was considered "necessary" for a girl my age.

At least, neccessary for a normal life.

I wasn't ashamed to admit that I'd lamented about such things routinely- crying, dreaming, just *thinking* about what it would all be like.

And there were those who would never even be able to dream about it. Sara and Garrett, Samantha, Thomas, Pat.... Young siblings of my friends that I had come to love dearly and who had never bothered thinking so far ahead.

And then there was Trunks...

I stopped.

He was my only real friend left, and my "affection" for him had grown deeper and deeper, until-

Until I wasn't even sure if it was really affection any more.

I shook my head and snapped back to full conciousness. I was acting like a little kid, developing a crush on somebody I knew was unreachable.

But that didn't change things. The fact was, he was leaving. He might never come back, and I would never see him again. I had to do something... before I lost another friend...

I blinked, and suddenly brought my mind back to my surroundings. I suddenly realized what I had to do, and my heart jumped into my throat. I half-heartedly swallowed it back down and finished pulling on my shirt. I ran out of my room. My heart was racing, and I felt a tear form in my eye. There was something I had to do before he left... I wasn't going to lose another friend....

I slowed as I found myself reaching the lab. I stopped in the doorway. The scaffolding had been taken down, and the machine stood there, silent, ominus-

Mocking.

It laughed at me, taunting me about how it would take from me my friend, how it had shredded him up and spit him out again, leaving me with nothing besides a faded memory and a broken heart. How it was stronger- oh, so much more powerful than I was. How machine had tempered the human will, had crushed any remnents of humanity that everybody, in their own little way, had desperately clung to. Trunks wasn't doing this for hope of a changed future.

He was doing it because this piece of metal, this *machine*- it could let him do it.

It stood there, ready to crush me at will, slap me with reality and send me back to my little fantasy world. Machines were controlling our minds, our bodies, and what little was left of our spirits. We had sold our souls to everything mechanical, and every step forward had been nothing more than a giant leap back in the evolution of the human race. And now, the one person with the most determination to stop mechanical monsters was relying on one. Siding with everything he was fighting against. If that was what anybody called "hope," then it was just as worthless as what a human life had become.

My eyes flooded with tears. I was alone with the knowledge of what Trunks was planning to do, and this, this *machine* that was going to help him. Spinning, my hair whipped in my face as I ran out of the lab. Things became a blur- I saw the door flinging open, Bulma standing there, confused, the walls of the hallway rushing past in a confused blur... Before I knew what had happened or where I was, I found myself curled up against a wall, crying into my knees.

I honestly don't know how long I sat there, crying and trying in one last desperate attempt to find out where my life, my friends, my *family* had all gone.

My tears eventually stopped, and I looked up. I was alone- for that I considered myself lucky, since I didn't feel able to confront anybody like this, with my hair falling in my face, my eyes red, my face flushed.

I gradually stumbled up, keeping my hands against the wall as to protect myself from collapsing completely. I staggered a few times, slowly regaining my composure and, after a minute or two, walking steadily down the hall. The breaking point had been reached, and there was still something I had to do.

I walked back to the lab. Inside, Trunks and Bulma stood in front of the time machine, talking so quietly that I couldn't hear them from my distance. Trunks looked over Bulma's shoulder at me- Bulma noticed the action, turned, saw me, turned back to Trunks, said a few more words, and turned to leave. I stood to the side as she pushed the door open and walked out with her head hanging low and her heart scraping the ground. He had finally told her.

I looked over at Trunks, who just looked back at me. I began to walk over, and he started to occupy himself with adjusting the strap on his sword. I stopped in front of him. He turned to me and gave a half-hearted smile.

"Don't look so enthusiastic," he joked. I sighed.

"So, this is it, huh?" I asked quietly. Trunks didn't seem phased by my response- he had anticipated it.

He shook his head. "No, 'it' is three years from now. Until then, everything is just a bump in the road."

"But it's a bump in the road that you might not come back from," I said, raising my voice slightly and blinking back a tear. "I'm not ready to lose another friend..."

I felt his hands weigh down on my shoulders reassuringly. He put his hand under my chin and gently guided my face back up to look him in the eyes. "Look," he began, his voice losing the edge I had only seen him take down on rare moments before, "you're the only friend I have left. You're practically my sister. If I have anything to live through this for, it's you and kaasan." He smiled somewhat. "Motochan."

I tried to smile at his rare display of affection, but I somehow couldn't bring myself to do so. I just looked into his eyes. They were so blue...

"Trunks, I know that this is my informal goodbye for now, but..." I swallowed as my heart leaped into my throat. I knew what I had to do. And before I knew it, I closed my eyes and felt my lips brush his, just a short, sweet memory of what it felt like before everything had begun... Two people, in their own world, where everything was fine and nothing could change for the worse... And my heart slowed down to its normal pace, perhaps even slower, as if the moment were frozen in time.

I heard the doors to the lab open, and I gently pulled away, opening my eyes only to see the same, shining azure eyes gazing back at me. I took a few steps back. Followed by a few more. I thought I saw Trunks make a half-move to stop me as I turned and quickly walked out the lab doors. Bulma walked by me, barely noticing my retreat. I pushed the door aside with my shoulder, my hands gripping my upper arms tightly. I found my way to my room.

There I cried.

Because I knew that Trunks- *my* Trunks- would never return.

----------

Spek bobbled next to me, watching my every move intently and recording it for future reference.

I shoved the last piece of laundery under my bed and flopped back on the floor. I needed something to do or I would shortly find myself wondering where my mind went. The lab was ready, the medical supplies were ready if we needed them... There was nothing left to do but wait.

I felt a huge grin spread across my face. This was it- Trunks wouuld be home before nightfall. Bulma had tried to explain to me about how time can sparatically speed up and slow down, so Trunks was only in the past for maybe a few days in their time. It had been over a week and a half here, and seeing him home and well was the only thing that either Bulma or I cared to think about.

I sat back up again, the grin never flickering. I felt like a little girl on Christmas Eve. I couldn't sleep, I could barely eat- I somehow *knew* Trunks would return as well as he had when he left. Despite this, I had no plans to let him see me this excited- I would have to calm down before he got back.

I stopped, and the grin suddenly faded, remembering what had happened between us before he left. It hadn't been a silly crush-kiss- there had been a seriousness, a sweet yet serious innocence in it, something I had felt but couldn't quite explain.

Spek intruded into my thoughts as he beeped. "YOU SEEM DISTRACTED. ARE YOU FEELING WELL?"

I shook my head and grinned again, but this time not as big, not as wide, not as meant as before. "I'm just excited, that's all."

Spek bobbled and beeped a few more times. "TRUNKS SHOULD ARRIVE IN A FEW MOMENTS."

My grin never budged. I stood up. "Well, then, I suppose the welcoming commitee should be there, shouldn't we?" Spek followed as I jogged out the door and down the hall towards the lab.

My steps were unusally fast, beating the ground in time with my racing heart. I couldn't- *wouldn't* calm down, and knew it full well. By this point I didn't care how Trunks saw me- I would still see him.

I walked in the lab. According to Bulma, the time machine should, for lack of a better word, re-materialize in the spot it had been in before. The area had been cleared, and most of the lab itself tidied.

But none of that was of my concern now. The only thing of my concern was Trunks, and that he got back safe and sound.

I rested my hand against the pocket of my jeans. The tiny black box still resided there, just in case- but I knew I wasn't going to need it. My grin widened.

Sure enough, Bulma sat in front of her computer, plugging away at a game of solitaire. She was just as wound as I was- only maternal instincts implied a constant sense of worry.

"How much longer, Bulma?"

She jumped slightly and turned the chair to face me, breathing a sigh of relief. "You scared me there, Mei. He should be arriving right about-" she glanced at her watch and smiled- "now!"

As if on cue, the air where the machine had been suddenly sparked with electricity. It sparked again, only larger, as if a giant discharge of static had occured between two unseen objects. It sparked again, and again, and again. Before I could lift a hand to shield my eyes, the air was crackling with thousands of volts of electricity, creating a blindingly beautiful display of light that jumped to and fro.

I closed my eyes, and my ears were invaded with a deafening roar of mechanical power. A small wind whipped violently at my face, forcing me to raise my hands. I thought I heard Bulma gasp next to me, but the roar made it impossible to tell. Keeping my hands up, I opened one eye to try and see what was happening.

The wind stopped.

The roar stopped.

The light faded.

And there stood the machine.

My mouth widened into an open-mouthed grin as the steam locks on the door to the machine opened. I heard Bulma gasp and laugh happily.

The door opened, and there stood Trunks.

Bulma leaped up and jogged to her son before the two embraced happily. I smiled, but stood where I was.

"You had me scared," Bulma said, hugging him tightly.

Trunks smiled wearily. "Gomen, kaasan."

I smiled. Bulma reminded me of my own mother when I was a child. How she would always hug me and act like I was the most important being on the face of the Earth.

Because to her, I was.

After a few moments of unspoken thanks between the two, Bulma pulled away and excused herself, saying she'd made lunch for him, and it would be ready in a minute.

I stood there quietly, facing Trunks from halfway across the lab. He looked at me, and smiled somewhat.

"Don't look so enthusiastic," he joked. He had remembered.

I shook my head. "You gave us both quite a scare back there."

"Gomen, motochan."

I sighed. "Please, Trunks, don't call me that. It just..." My voice trailed off.

"Hm?"

I sighed. "I was never your sister. I never will be. It just bothers me that you think of me as one."

His grin faded and a look of quiet seriousness took over. "You thought of Andrea as a sister, didn't you?"

I blinked. He knew about Andrea... but how...?

I stopped.

From when I had found out about the attack- and was laying in his arms.

"Well?"

I snapped out of it. "Trunks, I..."

He shook his head. "I don't blame you. In your mind..." His voice trailed off.

'In my mind, they're all dead,' I thought. I knew what he was getting at, and he could see it in my eyes.

"I understand," he replied. "Nobody can replace something like that."

I shook my head. He knew what he wanted to say, so why didn't he just come right out and say it? I knew full well what he was leaving silent. That everybody I had ever been close to... had just...

I stirred out of my thoughts to see him walking to me. I stuck my hands in my pockets. I had been such an idiot... For all this time...

I felt his hands on my shoulders, gentle, reassuring. I looked at him, tilting my eyes upwards slightly as he had, when I wasn't looking, grown past me by a few centimeters.

"You know," he started, "I never got to repay your favor." I looked into his eyes, and realized that they were suddenly vulnerable, open, with layers peeled away that I had thought too deep to try and penetrate. I felt his hand rest gently under my chin, and his lips slowly meet mine. My heart steadily pounded, the rhythm echoing in my mind. There was a deepness there that I couldn't explain, couldn't understand but by one word, by four letters that I had written off as something that would never happen to me.

And yet, here I was, being held by somebody who I would trust with anything, our lips met in a silent exchange of a single phrase that I had never honestly comprehended.

I love you.

----------

I felt one of us slowly pull away from the other- thought which one it was, it wasn't clear.

I looked down for a moment, then up at him, my chest rising and falling in deep breaths. "Trunks..."

He rested his finger on my lips. "Please, Mei... Just hear me out..." His voice was soft, and the words he spoke were meant for my ears only. I quieted myself.

He took a deep breath before he spoke again. "When I first met you, I suppose I was excited- excited that somewhere in the world, there was a place that still lived in relative peace. Now I know that I was wrong, but there's more to it.

"I thought of you as a possible friend, somebody I could honestly talk to without having to hear the same responses over and over again, the same reassurances from Gohan or kaasan. I thought of you as this wonderful disruptive force, something to break the usual pace of life. Something *different.*

"But the more I got to know you, the more I realized that you were more than just something to break routine. You were like me, only you were looking for something that *was* routine. I found out why when you told me about the attack. And when you sat there, crying, I was completely amazed at how open you were with what you felt. I couldn't believe you were crying openly. I had seen kaasan cry before, but she had always tried to hide it and bury herself in her work."

I blinked. It wasn't the tears after all... It had been sitting in front of me and I hadn't even realized it...

"And the longer and longer I knew you, the more and more I learned about- well, about everything I had missed because of my preoccupation with training. And when Gohan died, I wondered how anybody could really try and make me feel better, instead of just giving sympathy.

"Mei, you've saved my butt more times than I can remember. For that, I'm grateful. But there's more than just gratefulness. I can't explain it. And, before I left..." He broke into a gentle smile. "I was amazed that you actually did that on your own free will. You have no idea how I had been waiting for that. But you left before I could say anything."

A silence ensued, somewhat awkward in its timing. I shook my head.

"God, Trunks, I'm sorry." I stood there, on the verge of collapse. Too much had happened today.

"For what?"

"Just... everything. I put myself so far out from everybody, and didn't even realize I was losing touch with reality. I'm sorry, and just hope you'll accept an honest apology." I looked down- I couldn't meet his gaze any longer. It was too deep, uncomfortable for me.

Once again, there came a silence. My remark had sounded like an insult- a pure, calculated insult. I wanted to apologize again, but couldn't bring myself to it. It wouldn't change anything. My brother had once told me that though words of the present can ease the pain of the past, they could never close the wound.

As though my thoughts were taking shape, I began to look up again, when I suddenly noticed a tear in Trunks' jacket that was stained red around its perimeter. "You're hurt," I said quietly.

Trunks looked at his arm. "This? I just took a spill back in the past. I'm fine." I gently reached up and attempted to brush away strands of the denim, only to find that they were stuck to the drying blood. Though Trunks tried to keep it as low as possible, I heard a sharp intake of breath, a quiet stab of air. Pride and a definate hint of testosterone made it unthinkable for him show pain. I gave a quick smirk to myself at actually hearing what would be considered a sign of weakness.

I looked at the wound again. "It's pretty deep," I commented. He shook his head stubbornly. I looked up at him. "At least let Bulma or I clean it out. An infection in a wound this deep could make your arm swell pretty badly. You'd have a lump the size of a grapefruit on your arm. You wouldn't be able to train until the fluid drained."

The last remark caught his attention. After a moment of thinking, he sighed. "Fine, clean it out." He smirked somewhat. "You and kaasan are overprotective."

Bulma walked into the doorframe and stood there, smiling. "It's my job. Now lets' get you cleaned up and have some lunch."

Trunks' face fell. "Kaasan-"

Bulma folded her arms and cleared her throat loudly. I giggled. Trunks put his hands up in a sign of defeat and we started to walk towards the door.

"You two still treat me like I'm a five-year-old," he said with a roll of his eyes.

I smiled. "So you *do* have a brain knocking about in that blue-haired head of yours. I was beginning to wonder."

Trunks blinked and turned to me. "Well aren't we feeling lucky today?"

I folded my arms. "Don't need to. Besides, you wouldn't dare lay a hand on me." I tilted my head downwards and glanced up at him from the corner of my eye.

He stopped. "Oh really?"

I turned to face him and laughed. "Yes, really. I know you too well." I began walking backwards.

Trunks rested his hands on his hips. "Oh-*ho*! Do I hear a *challenge*?"

I grinned. "You're just cocky because you've never seen me get angry. Get me at the wrong time of the month and those two overgrown buckets of bolts have no chance."

His eyes glimmered slightly. "Is that so?" he jogged up and fell into step beside me. "I somehow doubt it, considering you can't even throw a pencil straight."

I stopped and put my arms to my sides. "Okay, that does it!" I took a few big steps, caught up to him in the doorway, and pushed him- the action itself had virtually no power, but he hadn't expected it- and he ended up hitting the doorframe.

He blinked a second, in a slight state of shock. I rested my hands on my hips. "And what were you saying about the pencil?"

He snapped himself back to reality, and, with a laugh, pushed me back. There was no force in it, just a playful shove that made me take half a step to the side to keep my balance. I broke into laughter and tried to push him back. He smirked and watched me hopelessly put my weight against him, eventually breaking down in laughter and falling against his side, keeping with him stride for stride the entire way. I felt his arm wrap itself around my waist, and I just smiled. This day was better than I had expected.

----------

Of course, days were fleeting, and after Bulma was sure his wound had healed without infection, Trunks reverted back to 24-7 training. As before, food and sleep were completely forgotten. While Bulma tinkered away endlessly to fix up the time machine- as it had been slightly damaged during the trip back- I would spend hours on end just sleeping. For a while, I honestly enjoyed it- it reminded me of my weekend regime at home. Wake up, eat, sleep, wake up, see if anything needs to be done, toy around on computer, sleep, wake up, eat, sleep.

When I did go to eat, I made it a point to make Trunks a sandwich or two. On my way back, I'd leave it outside on the step to the G-room. For the first few weeks, they were gone by the next day, but after that they just began piling up. Flies, being the only real prevelent form of life around the death and decay, found a home nestled temporarily in the bad mayo and rotting ham. Saiya-jin constitutions were obviously meant to handle strain... But I was worrying that this was just too much.

I idly wrapped my hands around a half-empty mug of lukewarm coco and stared at the wall. Not much to do... Bulma didn't want to be disturbed, and Trunks...

I shook my head as my thoughts inadvertantly shifted back to my lavender-haired friend who was bound to get himself killed. He wasn't taking defeat lightly. I suppose it was more of a matter of pride than of necessity by this point. Not much I could do there. All that was possible for me at this point was to sit back and pray for the best.

My train of though was brought to a screeching halt as Spek zipped into the room. I turned to him.

"Is it Trunks?"

"NO. I JUST THOUGHT YOU NEEDED COMPANY."

I blinked. Spek was beginning to change from a loyal puppy to a distant best friend. Bulma had upgraded his free speech component- I figured by now he was smarter than I was. He had practically developed into something that resembled a human. But he wasn't smart enough to read human emotions. He wasn't there. Not yet, at least.

I smiled somewhat. "Trunks sent you, didn't he?"

Spek bobbled with a hint of mechanical glee. "NO."

I raised an eyebrow. "Bulma?"

"NO."

I leaned back in my chair. Something was off. "So you came here on your own free will?"

Spek turned his lens in mid-air. "IN A WAY."

"Okay, okay," I began, and leaned forward again. "So nobody sent you, and you didn't come here on your own free will? You're beginning to scare me, Spek."

"COME AND I WILL SHOW YOU." With that he turned and careened out the door. I obediently stood and followed him.

He zipped down the few halls that lead to the lab. I narrowed my eyes in concentration. "Spek," I began, "what exactly is going on?"

He didn't respond. Instead he hovered for a second in front of the lab doors, which were, for once, closed. Spek's arms deployed from his sides, and he easily pushed the door open.

I stepped inside. Nobody was there. Odd.

"Hello?" I called into the empty lab. The time machine stood there in front of me, silent and knowing. I glanced at it. Not much to see...

From some uncontrollable impulse, I ducked. It was sudden, without warning, just a sudden urge to snap down. Though I couldn't explain my choice of timing, I heard a sharp ring against the time machine's metallic surface, and oened my eyes to see a pencil rolling towards me. I spun around.

Trunks smirked. "You're getting fast," he said.

I glared somewhat at him in agitation. "That wasn't funny."

"Not meant to be, really." He stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "I just wanted to see how you would react."

I twisted and let myself fall to the floor, landing in a sitting position as he walked over. "What is it with you and throwing pencils anyway?"

I saw a smile snake across his face. "I guess it's just a sign of affection." He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a tiny box. "Happy Birthday."

I blinked. Already...?

He noticed my stalled reaction and smiled again. "February 23rd, right? Hope I didn't get the date wrong."

I shook my head to snap out of it. "No, no, you're right..." I accepted the box and he sat down next to me. "I totally forgot..." My voice trailed off and I just sat there, gently turning the box over in my hands.

Trunks put one arm behind him and leaned back. He smiled. "Well are you going to open it or just look at it all day?"

I nodded and quietly found the seam in the paper. It was a tiny box, no more than an inch square and half an inch high. As I delicately pulled the paper off, I noticed it was black. It was then it hit me- the box was identical to my box, the tiny one I always kept near me. Even so, I was positive that the resemblence was only superficial. As I opened the box, my eyes must have widened a bit, as I saw Trunks' smile deepen at my reaction.

I gently lifted out the delicate necklace. It was a fine gold chain, with a small pendant at the end. The pendant was the white half of a yin-yan, but the white caught the light and shone it back in a thousand colors of the spectrum. The fine golden edge around it was delicately crafted and made the white seem to catch all the light in everything imaginable.

I felt Trunks give me a delicate kiss on the forehead. He smiled. "I thought you'd like it."

"It's so beautiful," I said in a humbled awe. I turned to him, my eyes still widened slightly. "Where did you find it?"

He smiled. "Kaasan gave it to me when I was still pretty young. It had been a present to her from my tousan. She told me to save it as a present for when I found the girl of my dreams." He smiled. "I found her."

I smiled and let my head fall on his shoulder. "Trunks?"

He put his arm around my shoulders. "Hm?"

"Next time you want to spoil me like this, remind me to hide all the pencils."

He chuckled. "I'll try. No garauntees, though."

I let myself relax, losing all sense of where I was or what was going on in the outside world. For the moment, I was in his arms, safe and warm and blissfully oblivious. I stayed as close to him as I could, breathing in the warm, musty scent of denim.

I smiled and layed there, feeling his arm around me. "That's okay," I said whistfully.

And it was. It really was.

----------

I growled and kicked my laptop across the room. Stupid thing had caused me enough problems already.

Then there was the matter of e-mail. Though the human race was teetering on the verge of extinction, people found enough lively spirit to down a few beers and spam some porn mail. Viva la internet.

The computer had locked up when I tried to open a disk that Andy had given me a long time ago. It had notes and some pictures on it- we computer nerds were high-tech note passers. Screw paper and pencil- give us floppies and some bitmaps any old day.

I sighed and flopped back on the floor. This was some sort of cosmic message from God. It had to be. Every time I tried to open the disk, it froze. Nearly pulled the cover off it a few times. I went through this frustration just to try and have a laugh. Cruel cycle. Maybe somebody was trying to tell me something about leaving the past behind. It was a million miles behind me as far as I was concerned. Okay, nix that idea. One thing was sure- whatever it was, it didn't like me very much.

Spek hovered into my room. "YOU CALLED?"

I turned and nodded. "Not a moment too soon, Spek. I was wondering if you could open this disk for me." I crawled over to my crippled laptop, popped the disk out, and extended it to him.

Spek beeped a few times, took it, and a tiny compartment that I had failed to notice before popped out. He placed the disk in it and it slid shut. A grinding sound followed as he processed.

I leaned back and tapped the floor impatiently. "Well?"

"FILENAME?"

I scratched my head idly. "AndyMei1," I replied. "A-n-d-y-m-e-i-1."

Spek whirred a few more times before a beam of intense light shone through his lens. It projected almost like a slide against the far wall, and a few dozen lines of written text appeared. I grinned and began to read it.

"'Mei,

I hearby christen this the sacred slam-disk. Leave those books and binders behind, ladies- we're upgrading! LOL.

NEwayz, 'sup with you? Not much here. Thomas got trampled by the dog and Sam's trying to peel him off the tile. Grandpa's just standing by and yelling at the dog in Italian. (And this, ladies and gents, is what I refer to as 'my life.' Thank you, thank you. No applause, just throw money. =) ) So are you still upset about the whole deal with Gail and the dreaded b-word? I don't like it much either. You and Suzi are right for being upset. It's out of my hands, though. If it were me I would've asked you first. Goddesses gotta stick together, right? I AM WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR!! GRRR!!! Hehehehe.... =)

Well I gtg. Take care. Luv ya, Andy.'"

I smiled. My friends had been such gems. Okay, so we had all been jerks at some point or another. By now I probably would've given anything even to hear one of them complain.

I glanced at the space under my bed. As usual, my tiny black box lay there, poised and ready if it was needed. I frowned. I shouldn't be thinking about this stuff.

"MEI?" I looked up at Spek. Okay, so I had spaced out a bit. I shook my head.

"I'm okay, Spek. File MeiAndy1. M-e-i-a-n-d-y-1." I stretched slightly on the floor and waited paitently while he called up the file. The text changed to a slightly longer note.

"'Andy,

Yeah, so I'm upset. Not as much as before, but I'm still pretty PO. Not much I can do from here on in.

I'm actually excited for once. Sensei asked me about replacing Jen as his assitant since she moved. He says I was giving Jen and Liz a run for their money (and they're three levels- not to mention years- higher than I am. Go me!!!) I'd love it! (This is so cool!!) Sensei said something about my 'ki' being strong. I think it's like your lifeforce or something. He says I can use it for new moves and stuff- I really can't wait to learn. But he sounded kinda weird because he said he couldn't teach me under supervision of the YMCA. He'd have to take me as a private student. He says it's some sort of fighter's secret. Whatever. I'm willing to learn! =) (If it means I can take on Greg, lemme at it!)'"

I stopped and actually laughed. I had been pretty naive back then, before everything started. I felt myself laughing out loud at the irony of me questioning what a ki was, and over four years later watching my only remaining friend slowly destroy himself with it. It was so ironic...

I suddenly noticed the laughter growing in strength as my mind examined the irony of the situation. I couldn't help it. It wasn't even funny- just unbearably ironic. But I laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

"MEI?" Spek noticed my continual laughter and abruptly pulled the image from the wall.

I felt my body shake. Here was this tiny little machine, pretending he knew about human emotions-! I couldn't restrain myself, and I bent over from a sharp pain in my stomach.

I tried to stop laughing- I really did. But I just couldn't. I was turning into a basketcase, and I knew it full well. And there was another point- I had thought I was messed up before! Yet here I was, knowing I had completely lost it, laughing hysterically over a stupid note that had triggered morbid recollections.

"MEI? SHOULD I NOTIFY THE PROFESSOR?"

I shook my head and felt my body shudder as I laughed. "Isn't this great?! I'm turning into a nutcase and there's nowhere to go to try and get away from it! This is great!" I clutched my stomach. The pain was deepening. This wasn't my normal hysterics- something was wrong. I closed my mouth, clamped my eyes shut- but tears began pouring down my face. I couldn't stop. I just kept laughing, and laughing, and laughing...

I tried to stand, but only suceeded in wavering and shakily propping myself up against the wall. My mind screamed for my body to stop, and my throat tightened. I didn't know what was going on- had I screamed? The pain slashed across my stomach, and I tightened my arm around my midsection as I attempted to walk. My steps threw me from side to side, crossing legs, tripping over my own two feet. And through it all my laughing continued, growing stronger, and louder...

By some miracle of God I made it into the hallway and against the opposite wall. Tears poured down my face, mixing pain and confusion as the insane laughter took over completely. In a desperate attempt to stay standing, I put my hand against the cool, smooth surface of the wall and locked my elbow out.

"Mei? Are you alright?" I could faintly hear Trunks through my laughter. I opened my eyes, but couldn't see anything- the tears distorted it even less than the abrupt feeling of weakness as my knees began to buckle, and the hall began to rock sickeningly back and forth.

"Trunks..." The laughter, the insane, foreign laughter began to, ever so slightly, subside. "Thank God you're-" I felt my throat tighten as if I was about to vomit. A feeling of woozyness suddenly swept over me, and everything began to turn black around the edges. "Here..." The blackness swept inward and I could feel my knees give way. I thought I could feel a sharp bang against the back of my head as I distantly heard Trunks yelling my name.

----------

Vomit.

I distinctly remember that one command going through my head. I didn't have the energy to try and stop it. Even though it repeated itself, I knew I had nothing in my stomach. There probably wasn't anything left anymore.

I heard Andrea first. Her voice was clear, distinct- familiar and worried.

"Mei? God, Mei, what happened?" Though the sheer worry in her tone should have made me fear whatever it was she was referring to, it instead gave me a perverse sense of comfort and warmth. "Can you talk?"

I saw her, then. She was next to me, squatting next to the leather cot in the nurse's office. I saw her, but oddly enough, I felt no sense of relief, or urge to jump up and hug her and tell her I was never going to leave home again, no matter how bad it was. None. Instead I just watched her, looked at her, as if she had always been there forever, just a piece of the scenery.

"The nurse says you had a pretty nasty accident back there. Ferry opened her locker door and hit you hard. You've been out cold straight through second period." She smiled. "No Civics today, huh? Lucky dog."

I thought I smiled- but things were just off. Too warm, too bright. Nothing seemed as real as it should have been. That and the fact it was just me and Andy. No nurse, no office staff coming through, no xerox machine grinding away, no ambulence that they called in for stuff like this. The sound of a locker being slammed in the hallway outside was too blunt, the sharp ring of the lock lost. I blinked and sat up. No pain in my stomach. No actual strength used to prop myself up. I felt Andy's hand on my back, warm. Warmer than anything around- warmer than my own skin.

It was then I saw Gail walk in. She looked concerned. "Mei, how ya doin'? I finally got out of second period and came to check on you. What happened back there, anyway? I hear you got hit with a locker door."

Andy turned to Gail and nodded. I faintly felt my head bob up and down in a numb agreement.

Then there was everybody. All my friends came in the office in one large cluster, asking how I was and what had happened. They came in, made sure I was alright, and, after a few minutes, begrudingly shuffled out as the bell rang. I turned, and Andy and Gail were still there.

"Hey, Mei, I gotta go. You know how PO Miss Smith can get when people are late." Gail walked over, and, to my surprise, leaned over and hugged me. It was a tight embrace, though not suffocating- one friends give when they're saying goodbye for a considerable amount of time. She rocked back and forth slightly, and I could faintly hear her whisper, "G'bye." With that she stood, yanked the straps tighter on her backpack, and made her way out the door.

"Andy..." I finally found the strength to open my mouth and say something, but only her name came out. She blinked, and I saw her eyes glisten slightly. She, like Gail, leaned over and hugged me, with the same warmth that had built between us over so many years. I opened my mouth, but couldn't find the will to move my arms and hug her back. She was warm, comforting, a familiar entity who I honestly felt safe with. But still she sat there, hugging me, holding me like she never wanted to let go, never wanted to lose all those years we had spent together, all the secrets, all the gossip, all the laughter, and all the hugs. It felt like she was clinging not only to me, but to everything between us- even the tears were her savior now.

She stood after a while, and pulled her backpack out from the corner. She stepped back until she was about three meters away, and stood there. She didn't move for a moment, didn't speak. But I did.

"Andy, what's going on?" I shifted myself so I was sitting with my legs over the side of the couch. Even so, I couldn't bring myself to stand- for the first time in my memory, I was humbled by Andrea's presence. Not frightened- merely quieted, compelled to silence by some other existance in the room.

She took a long, deep breath before speaking, trying to compose herself. "I've never lied to you, Mei, and I won't now. You're not supposed to be here yet."

I needed no answers; I had no questions. "What about the others...?"

Andy smiled warmly. "They're all fine. I honestly don't think I've ever seen any of us happier. Even Jessy is having a blast. She can write all she wants and never get nagged at about homework."

I felt a smile cross my face as everything save Andrea and myself faded into a warm yellow glow. I saw Sara and Garrett run over to me, warp themselves around my knees, laugh and stare up at me with their big, sparkling eyes.

"Mei! I thought I'd never get to see you again!" Garrett's grin riveled the width of his face- had it had more room it probably would've been a mile long.

"Yeah! I missed you too!" Sara jumped up and down excitedly and her shining brown hair fell over her porceline face. I bent down and loosely hugged the two, feeling their fading warmth as they happily bid me "Bye!"

I looked back up to Andy. Her smile was still warm, somewhat sympathetic. "As you can see, Sara and Garrett are also doing fine." Her smile turned into a mischevious smirk as she winked. "I also hear you've got a boyfriend."

I felt a slight warmth come to my cheeks- not a blush, just a comforting warmth that happened whenever I thought about Trunks. "I guess."

Andy laughed and placed her hands on her hips. "I honestly wish you would admit it. The two of you are such a cute couple."

I rolled my eyes. "Not much to do in the way of dating."

Andy chuckled. "I'd figure. Greg and Pete say to keep up the good work, your dad says that Trunks is OK, your mom wishes you the best of luck, and the rest of us say, when you two get hitched, throw an invitation into the wind. We'll get it. But everybody, most of all, gives you their blessings and wants you to know how happy we are for you."

"You never give up on trying to spot a future husband, do you?"

"Never. It's against my religion, remember? I have to see my best friend married sooner or later." Her smile faded. "Mei, I don't have much time left. I'm lucky King Emma granted me this long."

I didn't make a move to stop her. I just nodded. "Luv ya, Andrea. Andy. Mi mejor amiga."

Her smile returned. "Ditto." I saw things begin to turn black again, starting in at the edges. I sat there calmly, knowing it was out of my power now.

Right before she disappeared completely from my view, I heard her again.

"Love you too, Mei. Amistad es para siempre!"

The blackness folded over on itself. I wanted to scream, to make it stop, to bring them all back, but I didn't. It wouldn't do any good. Not now.

Vomit.

There it was again. I could feel my arms, my legs, but, worst of all, my stomach. It churned emptily, sending a wave of uncontrollable nausia over me again. The worst part was, there was nothing I could do.

I couldn't open my eyes- maybe I couldn't simply because of will power to keep them shut, or lack thereof to open them. I remember moaning- I was startled to hear my voice, deep, painful. More painful than I had ever heard as far as I could remember.

I half-opened one eye. The light, wherever it was, was blinding to me. I closed both eyes and let a faint glow seep in through my lids. It was a sufficient aid- I opened my eye again and, after a few blinks, was able to see again. I saw the ceiling. I laid there dumbly for a few moments, trying to figure out through my squint where I was and what had happened. Eventually I rolled my head to the side.

Trunks sat there, his eyes closed, head bowed, arms folded and legs crossed. I didn't immediately recognize him- though what made the connection so distant, I couldn't understand. Yet there he was, his face slightly reddened, his long, lavender hair a loose muss.

I blinked and opened both eyes, squinting weakly. "Trunks?"

My voice had been meek, a scratchy sound uttered from the back of my throat, but he obviously heard. I saw his eyes open, and his head raise. A half-hearted smile crossed his face, and he got out of his chair and knelt down next to me.

"Look who decided to come back." It was then I noticed his eyes, reddened around the edges. I tried to clear the thought out of my head, but it stubbornly returned- there were damp spots under his eyes, shining ever so slightly, just tiny spots where moisture had been wiped away.

"What happened...?" I rolled onto my side and lifted my hand to try and brush his bangs out of his face, so I could really see what he was trying to hide. I was too weak, though- I almost let my hand fall before he gently wrapped his hands around it.

"Kaasan said you had an emotional breakdown and collapsed. You hit your head on the way down," he explained quietly, a needed attempt not to impose on my ears.

"You've been crying," I responded bluntly. He blinked and recoiled ever so slightly. He had definately shed a few tears, or else he would have tried to deny it. "If you were crying then it's more serious than just a breakdown." I wasn't trying to be tactful- I needed to hear the truth.

Trunks shook his head. "Mei, you'll be fine..."

"No I won't." He looked back up at me and I hardened my gaze. "Trunks, I know you're not telling me something."

"Mei, it was just an emotional bre-"

"That's a bunch of bullshit and you know it." My gaze fixed itself on him. I was already seventeen years old and could hear whatever he was trying to hide. Still he sat there in silence, putting up a wall that I knew was reserved for the fiercest of battles- and I knew he was fighting one right now.

At that moment, I heard Bulma walk in. Or, rather, start in and stop in the doorframe. "Mei?" she asked, near silence. I nodded, still weakened, never breaking my gaze from Trunks. She ran over to the other side of my bed and began speaking. "Heart rate normal, blood sugar within normal range, brain active..." Her voice trailed off for a moment, and I could hear her turn and face Trunks. "Jesus..."

I closed my eyes as a wave of exhaustion swept over me. I had been talking for a while, and I was obviously still weak from whatever had happened.

"Bulma?" I asked quietly. She paused for a moment, then walked around next to Trunks and knelt down. "What really happened?"

She smiled distantly. "You had an emotional break-"

"Bull."

Bulma blinked. I could tell she knew what I was thinking, and she sighed. "You know how different emotions are triggered by chemicals in your brain, right?" I nodded. "Well, your brain was producing a hormone that I had never seen before, and, as a result, you just started laughing. It became, quite literally, a physical impossibility for you to stop."

"So in other words I went completely pschitso."

Bulma nodded. "In a way, yeah. But the pain in your stomach was caused, I think, from a bizarrely high level of digestive acids being produced. They were literally eating away at the wall of your stomach, which, in itself, is not unheard of. I don't know whether the two were related or not, but..." Her voice dropped to near silence. "When Trunks finally got you here, the acids had almost completely destroyed the wall of your stomach. You had some pretty bad hemmorhaging. You went completely comatose. Then..." She took a deep breath. "We lost you, Mei. The internal bleeding was so bad that your body couldn't sustain you any longer, and we lost you. Completely."

I sat there numbly for a while. I had really died, and maybe I really *had* seen Andrea, and Gail, and all the others again... Andrea's words returned to me.

'You're not supposed to be here yet.' She had sent me back. She had to have. Or maybe it was just a dream, something conjured by a confused mind and a body plagued by hemorrhaging. But there was something else that she had said... Amistad es para siempre... Friendship is forever. The one thing I somehow forced myself to believe couldn't have been triggered by a hallucination

Bulma sighed. "It's the strangest thing- you were gone, and then you suddenly just- just revived completely." She scratched her head and smiled weakly. From the color of her eyes I knew that she, too, had been crying. "It's really a miracle." I just nodded, growing more and more tired with every passing moment.

Bulma stood and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "You're going to have to stay in bed for at *least* three weeks to a month."

I smiled exhaustedly. "Hey, I haven't *been* in bed for three weeks. It'll be my pleasure." Vomit...

Bulma smiled back and excused herself. I rolled back onto my back and looked up at the ceiling, not able to look Trunks in the eyes any more. I wasn't angry, but- it was like there was a wall between us.

"You brought me back, didn't you?" I asked flatly. He sighed. "You used your ki and brought me back." A few moments of silence ensued. I blinked back a tear as I heard him stand and begin to walk out the door. I raised my hand slightly.

"Thank you," I whispered, and he heard. He paused a moment, then continued on his way. He had used to much of his ki today.

Now he needed to train.

----------

I followed Bulma's orders, of course. I was on an IV line to substitute for normal food- which would've poisoned me easily- but it still didn't help the uncontrollable nausea. Every night I went to sleep feeling sick, every morning I woke up feeling even sicker than the night before.

Despite this, Bulma had told me one day, as she was flipping through some graphs that Spek had spit out, that I was recovering at a rapid speed. She had absent-mindedly informed me that after another week in bed, it was a phsyical possibility and relatively safe for me to be up and about again- but I was too excited to think and brought the subject up again, at which point I was ordered to stay bed-ridden for at least another two weeks.

Those two weeks were definately the longest weeks I had had in known memory. Nothing was left to do but sleep and read through the disk Andy had given me. It was actually a decently long disk- it covered about six months of notes and pictures. I was positive there had been a more recent disk- but then I realized that I had left it with Andrea before my "trip." Oh joyous day.

Spek kept me company, if you could really call it that. He actually knew how to play chess- and I didn't. Naturally, he beat me four out of the five times we played. Chess never had been my thing- but luckily Spek could also play checkers.

So we played checkers, a few games a day for the entire time I was bed-ridden. Spek had informed me that he had noticed an increasing pattern in the frequency of my winning and in the moves I made. I smiled as I realized he was trying to tell me that I was recovering. Robots with tact. When Spek couldn't keep me company, I had told him to bring me the busted scouter. It had been laying somewhere on Bulma's desk for just over two years now. I had completely pushed it from my mind- but boredom brings up memories best left forgotten.

Even when I was playing checkers, I felt distant. I couldn't keep my mind from wandering to Trunks. I knew he had reacted to my knowing that he had brought me back- and his reactions were anything but positive. When Bulma came to check on me, I asked her.

She turned slightly. "I had thought so.. I guess I just didn't really bel-" She cut herself off and glanced at me. I smiled.

"Didn't believe he would go to that length for me and not for Gohan?" I shook my head. "Join the club. I just have this sinking feeling that I should have left it alone this time."

Bulma sat down and nodded. Her body was limper than usual, weaker- I could tell she had been spending at least the past 24 hours hunched over the time machine. "I know what you mean. It's like he's retreated into a shell and won't come out."

I shook my head. "He hasn't retreated to anywhere- it's not his style. We're the ones who've retreated."

Bulma nodded. "I guess it's one of those things that you keep to yourself." She leaned over and hugged me quickly. "It's not your fault. I'm sure you understand."

I nodded and leaned back. I understood too well.

----------

I stood. Shakily at first, but I stood. Just one foot in front of the other. Before I knew it, I was clear across my room with a smile on my face but a crick in my neck.

"Thank God I finally got out of bed," I muttered, and stretched. I had been ready to get out for a week- but my legs had been cramped from sitting for so long. Right now I had one desire, one uncontrollable urge that swept over me like a tide and drowned me in the undertow. I grinned at Spek. "Race ya!" I turned and bolted out of my room, wavering slightly at first, then catching my pace and feeling the air rush aside as I took off down the hallway, Spek in hot pursuit.

I grinned and closed my eyes, running blindly. I hadn't felt this relaxed in so long- my legs pumping with all my strength, my breathing shaking but regular, my face flushing with the surge of adrenoline. My hair whipped behind me, letting the cool air run along the back of my neck. I wasn't running from anything in particular, let alone my problems.

I felt my feet involuntarily slow themselves, and I stood in front of the G-room. I was running *to* my problems after all.

"Trunks?" I called inside. "Trunks? It's me, Mei." No response whatsoever. It was then I realized- no hints of a battle cry, no explosions, nothing. Silence.

I stood there awkwardly for a moment, reflexively reaching into my pocket for the tiny, smooth, black box. I could feel the lid smudging with my fingerprints, temporarily ruining the shining finish.

I relaxed just noticibly as I heard a shuffling sound inside. "What?" It was Trunks- irritated, but it was him.

I cleared my throat slightly. "Trunks, we have to talk."

A pause. "What about?"

I narrowed my eyes slightly- he had his own right to be perturbed, but I shared that right. "Nothing that's so unimportant as to have to be talked about through closed doors." I stepped back and smirked with satisfaction as I heard him grumble a reply, and, after a brief pause, the steam locks on the doors begin to operate.

The door slid open obliviously on its hinges, humming as it always did, blissfully ignorant in its lack of mental process. I shook my head and waited, staring at the empty doorway.

"Well, you said we had to talk." A challenge, direct, blunt. Trunks' voice came from inside- I found myself flushing angrily at his obvious opinion that whatever this was wasn't worth getting up for. I found myself storming towards the door in frustration, grabbing onto the doorframe, and spinning my head towards him.

'What is WRONG with you?!' I wanted to scream, to reach down the core of his precious time machine and rip it all out, to show it all to him. 'See this?! This is exactly like my life! It may have had a purpose once, but now it's just a useless pile of junk! I had dreams and hopes and fantasies about the boy next to me in math class- and now it's all just junk!' And then I wanted to throw it all in his face, and break down crying, and wake up from this horrible nightmare.

But I couldn't.

Instead, I just stood there, my knuckles whitening around the doorframe, watching him with more fury than I had ever mustered in my entire life.

He sat at the end of the room, leaning back against the far wall, knees bent up casually in front of him, arms folded. He had finished training a while ago- the sweat on his face was almost dried, and his long hair was only slightly ruffled. "You wanted to talk?" He focused his eyes on me- the same intense look I saw him use back when Gohan was still alive, when the two were sparring- not a glare, but an angry focus that nearly made me step back.

Instead I tightened my grip around the doorframe and held my ground. Not even God himself could have moved me from that spot, at that moment. "What's wrong with you?" I asked, letting just enough anger seep into my voice so he knew how much I was holding back.

He shrugged casually. "Depends on who you're really referring to by 'you.' For all I know, you're trying to find out what's wrong with yourself."

"Cut the bullshit, Trunks," I responded. "You haven't talked to Bulma or me since you stormed out three weeks ago." I narrowed my eyes.

"Maybe I just don't want to anymore." I forced myself not to budge as he stood without wavering. "Did you ever think of that, Mei? Maybe, just maybe, I've got my own agenda to take care of, where you're not the primadonna any more." He walked over towards me, and I glued my feet to the spot, titling my head back defiantly to meet his gaze. "Maybe you've just got to learn to be on your own." He shoved past me and through the doorway, and I spun. The lock mechanism on the door had been digging into my hand- my palm bled freely, a tiny streak shaped by the creases in my skin. I ignored it and watched him make his way towards the hallway.

"Learn?" I yelled back, and he stopped. "Oh, I've learned alright- more than you ever think a person can. About everything from how to try and cope, and how people can't be trusted, and *especially* how to be on my own!" I swallowed and the scenery shimmered as my eyes filled with tears, which I blinked back. "And especially how not to cry."

"MEI!" He spun, a fury in his voice that finally made me step back and grasp the doorframe again, the mechanism digging back into my palm. He glared at me- a final, fiery, free glare. "There's a WAR going on out there! A WAR, DAMMIT! It's man versus machine and the loser DIES! And you're sitting here concerned about yourself while others are out DYING! You should be content that you're still ALIVE!"

I couldn't hold it back any longer, and I burst into tears. "I should be CONTENT I'm still alive, huh?! You know what- when you're stuck with two people, one of whom pays no attention to you, while the other, your only friend, is slowly destroying himself, and you can't do anything about it, you ENVY those who are dying!" I leaned back as the tears streamed down my face as steadily as the blood from my palm, which was now trickling down the doorframe. "Death is less painful than this, Trunks! Little by little, you're killing yourself, and I just don't know what to do anymore!" I let myself fall to the ground. My thoughts were turned away from destroying him, and now all I could see through blurred eyes was Trunks. I wanted to run up and hug him, tell him I was sorry, just holding eachother and never having to see the time machine, or the gravity room, or the androids, or anything ever again... I wanted my old life back, but this time with Trunks, and no death or destruction or pain. I never broke my gaze from him. "You were born in a world where you were used to only two other people beside yourself around. You don't remember anybody but your mother and Gohan. I grew up around so many people, so many faces, so many hearts that I buried myself in and clung to for so long- and then I didn't have anything to cling to anymore! EVERYBODY I EVER LOVED IS DEAD. My family, friends, teachers, classmates- well over a hundred people who I was secure around, who I felt safe with- they're all gone in an instant. You lost Gohan, and you lost one. Imagine loosing a hundred people who you were just as attached to, who you loved just as much, who you relied on and were relied on by? Do you even have a clue as to how much that is, a hundred people to know and love and dream of growing old with?" I felt my chest heave once. "Do you even understand?" He stood silently, and I felt my shirt soaking up my tears, almost as if it were trying to offer me some small comfort.

I felt my breath stagger as I continued. "Trunks, you've always had some sense of purpose to your life- you *know* what you're here for, who you are, what you're going to do. You've known since you were old enough to understand the word 'fight.' I never had a clue as to where I was going- never a purpose, just experiences left and right that looked so promising. And now I've just hit a dead-end." I sat there pathetically, legs in front of me, hand still squeezing the doorframe, hair limp and the ends tear-soaked. I found no more strength- I lowered my voice. "I don't know where to go from here." I looked at him, standing with his back to me, his muscles tensed, never wavering. I felt as if I were yelling at a brick wall. He was silent, deathly silent- though whether the silence was one of comtemplation, emotion, or fury, only the air knew.

Finally, I though I saw his shoulders relax, just untensing the muscles, never budging. "Mei," he started, quietly, "I'm sorry about your family, and what's happened to you. I may not know what it feels like to lose so many people, but..." He took a deep breath before continuing. "But if I don't try and do something about it, try to stop them, then more people will go through what you did." I sat there silently, trying to stop tears- I didn't even need to question who 'them' was. Instead I just sat there, pulling my legs towards me, trying to hide how vulnerable I felt.

"Wars are fought with armies and tanks and thousands of people..." I finally released my grip on the doorframe. I ran my hand through my hair, feeling the sting as strands of hair got stuck in the open mess in my palm. I may have winced- I couldn't tell through the sickening wavering of the scenery- but I took a deep breath and kept talking, letting my head fall some, along with my voice. "You're fighting all alone."

"Everybody has their own battles to fight and their own wars to wage. I'm just fighting against an enemy I can see." I froze as he turned, his expression, though still hardened, losing its edge. "Not every war can be won with tanks and guns and thousands of people. Sometimes your only enemy is yourself."

I felt the tears lessen, and, as soon as they had started, stop. Not to say that I was okay- I sat, half-curled, blood in my hair and under my palm on my jeans, eyes reddened, cheeks flushed. I was in a pathetic and dilapidated state- and that's what I hated most.

My own vulnerability.

I almost felt a sense of realization at that moment- that the only reason I had clung to so many for so long was to hide behind them, have them be with me, so I would never have to be prone to fear and pain and death. Once they were all gone, I was open, exposed to all the torment of the real world- and there was nobody left to hide behind. I hated it, my openness and sensitivity- it had brought me so far down that I doubted I would ever be able to get back up. I understood why Trunks had hardened himself to emotion from others- it was a blockade that every mortal put up, so they would never have to deal with pain or fear. Some learned to hide from death- others learned to live by it. But, by some way or another, we all found a way to try and numb ourselves to everything around us.

Some succeeded, others failed.

And I had failed miserably.

I realized all of this in a fleeting instant, as Trunks began over to me. I forced my self to get up, to stand, to not look so vulnerable anymore. But it was useless- I couldn't bring myself to get off the ground. Trunks just walked over and sat next to me. I had lost my wall of protection years ago, and nothing could get it back.

"Trunks," I choked under my breath. "I'm sorry." I felt him next to me, though he made no move to touch me, to try and comfort me. His voice and eyes were here, but his mind was elsewhere.

"Don't be," he said. "It's hard losing somebody you love, even after all these years."

I turned my head and looked him in his distant, azure eyes. "I just don't want to lose you too."

He didn't turn to face me- his gaze was focused on something so far off that I wondered if it ever existed in the mortal realm. I followed his gaze, looking, hoping, praying to see something to offer me comfort, to reassure me. All I saw was a wall, something I had run into so many times that it was like my home to have my back against.

We sat there in silence, no words being needed, gazing off at the distance, at the future.

And at God.

----------

I woke up the next morning with a sharp pain in my side. I winced, not so much from the pain, but from a nagging sense in my head, that screamed for me to run, to hide as soon as I could.

I, being as stubborn as I was, ignored it.

I trotted down the hall and into the kitchen, where I was greeted by Spek, who bobbed blissfully in the air as I sat down. I wasn't hungry- I just needed to see somebody.

I caught myself and laughed at the thought of Spek being a somebody and not a something. He had grown on me, like a loyal puppy usually does. He follwed me around when Bulma didn't need him for something, opened files for me, and was the only person I could remember beating me 2 out of 3 in checkers.

"Hey, Spek," I asked, rather quietly. "Where's Bulma? I haven't seen her..." My voice trailed off and I bit my tounge at what I wanted to say. 'I haven't seen her in a week.' I was true- I was beginning to worry about her again. My mind flashed endlessly with images of her toiling over the time machine, then collapsing suddenly from exhaustion- or worse. I really only had myself to blame- I hadn't volunteered my help since before my 'breakdown.'

"RESTING, I BELIEVE." Spek paused for a moment, frozen in mid-air, then bobbed once as if nodding.

I blinked, confused, until my suprised expression finally melted into a grateful smile. She was done, and she had spent years upon years waiting for a moment to rest. If anybody deserved to take time off, it was her.

"Spek," I asked, standing up again, "do you know if we have any tea left?" I was already shuffling around in the cabinet with the cans of coffee and assorted beverage capsules.

Spek flew over next to me. "I BELIEVE SO. ON THE TOP SHELF." Without me asking, Spek raised himself to lens-level with the top shelf, and, after a moment of scanning, extended his 'arms' and came down with a small box of tea bags.

I took them from him and examined them- they had been up there since I had arrived, probably longer. A fine layer of dust covered the box itself, but as I brushed it off, I saw the label "ORIENTAL GREEN TEA" clear in faded yellow letters. I lifted the box top and saw that it was still a full box of tea, with six tiny bags nestled snugly in their places, as if they had just been put there the previous day. Without a thought, I walked over to the sink, pulled the kettle off the stove, and began to fill it up with water. The sound from the faucet relaxed me, and I turned to Spek with a smile.

"GREEN TEA?" Spek noted the box. "FOR BULMA?"

I nodded. "Yeah- it always used to help me calm my nerves. Especially when I was still pretty young." 'Pretty young,' of course, had come to refer to the times before I had arrived here. "I just think she deserves some time off." I turned off the faucet and placed the kettle back on its burner, twisting the old handle on the front of the stove to ignite the flame beneath it. I brought two mugs out from the end cabinet, and put a tea bag in each. When I was done, I leaned back in my chair and looked over at Spek.

"So, how's the countdown until D-Day?" I strummed my fingers lazily on the tabletop while I waited, briefly, for an answer. 'D-Day' was our abbreviation of 'Departure Day', Trunks' last day in our time. By my estimate it was nearly a year away.

Spek's lens dropped slightly. "ONE DAY."

I stopped strumming and let my chair fall forward in disbelief. My eyes must have widened, for things suddenly got slightly wavy. "One day?! He's leaving TOMORROW?!"

Spek didn't move other than a steady hover. "AS SCHEDULED, YES. TODAY IS HIS LAST FULL DAY."

I put my hand on the side of my head and grasped some of my hair, disbelieving. Already? I thought... Oh, who was I kidding? I had no clue as to what I thought. With all that had been happening, in the past month alone...

"MEI? YOU SEEM A BIT PALE." I snapped out of my reverie and looked at Spek. He was probably right, and my face had drained of some of its color. I nodded.

"I'm okay," I responded distantly. I sat there in silence, desperately trying to sort out where the extra year had gone. Had it just passed without me noticing the time? Was he leaving a year early? What?

I shook my head and thanked God for the sound of the kettle whistling. I stood and made my way to the stove quietly, concentrating on the task at hand. I poured the hot water into a cup, watching it fall from the kettle's spout to the ceramic bottom of the mug. My mind wasn't on the water, just on where the time had gone... Maybe Spek was wrong, and Trunks wasn't leaving for another year...

I cried out, more in surprise than pain, as the steaming water spilled over the rim of the mug and onto my hand. I reflexively reeled, stepping back slightly, and, after a moment, standing there dumbly and rubbing my hand. I could hear Spek behind me, hovering concernedly.

"MEI? ARE YOU SURE YOU'RE FEELING WELL?"

I nodded wearily, picked up the kettle again, and finished pouring the two cups full of water in silence. I let the tea bags float around for a moment, then plucked them out and threw them in the sink. I wrapped my hands around the larger of the two mugs- a blue one with the Capsule Corporation logo borne proudly on the front- and silently made my way out of the kitchen.

My mind wandered aimlessly as my feet instinctively guided me towards Bulma's room. Trunks was leaving already... He couldn't be, he wasn't for another year. Spek could have accidentally been told the wrong date, or the wrong year... No, he was definately leaving. I was afraid of him leaving, of being here for an entire year with nobody but Bulma and Spek to help if the androids found us. It was a year to be lived in fear, for Trunks' life and our own.

What if he suceeded, though? What if the androids were defeated in the past- and nothing of our world would exist? I would have never met Trunks, or Bulma, but I would have all my friends... Was it really worth the sacrifice...?

My thoughts silenced themselves as I found myself face to face with Bulma's door. I reluctantly released one hand from the burning warmth of the mug and reached for the doorknob. Though I tried to touch the brass knob, something so simple that it was almost sickening, I couldn't. I clenched my fist, beside myself with frustration, and reached out again to turn the knob. This time, I succeeded, though not without a bizarre internal struggle, and turned my head as to see around the doorframe.

The lights were off, but from the light in the hall and my own adjusting vision, I could see Bulma curled up on the queen-sized bed that resided against the wall a few feet from the door. The sheets were crumpled up around her waist and her hair was strewn listlessly over her pillow. Her side rose and fell steadily, a good sign that she was finally asleep.

I quietly tiptoed over to her nightstand and gently placed the steaming drink on its wooden surface. Bulma remained asleep, blissfully unawares of the world around her.

I smiled wearily as I sat down on the edge of her bed, the matress dipping under my weight. She had been such a strong force since fate had chanced to bring me to her and Trunks, I doubted if I ever wanted to leave her side. We hadn't always seen eye-to-eye on things, but such was the consequence of having somebody who cared about you so much. I smiled at the last thought and stood slowly, careful not to disturb her, and made my way to the door.

"I love you, mama," I murmured, barely above a whisper, and closed the door behind me.

----------

It didn't take me long to find Trunks- I had slept in that day, and it was edging on dusk by the time I finished my laundry and ate. I knew that even Saiya-jins had to get hungry at some point or another, but his timing surprised me.

I glanced up from my plate and saw Trunks standing in the doorway to the kitchen, exhausted but smiling. I smiled back.

"So that bottomless pit you call a stomach finally forced you out of the G-room, huh?" I grinned as he walked over and bent down to give me a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I guess you could say that. A man's gotta eat, you know." By this point he was in the refridgerator, digging around. I raised an eyebrow and watched him. After a minute or so, it was apparent he wasn't looking for a snack.

"How much do you plan on eating anyway?" I slapped my forehead and rested my elbow on the table as he turned, finished, with a week's worth of bread, meat, and various other foods piled in his arms. "You're gonna eat until you explode, aren't you?"

He blinked and gave me a blank, innocent expression. "What? It's not *that* much food."

At this point I began laughing. He could be such an innocent at times, it was hard to stay mad at him. "And my parents complained about *me* eating a lot." I scratched my head and smiled as he sat next to me and immediately began eating away at a bowl of rice.

"You don't eat *that* much," he responded between mouthfulls. "Gohan could sit here for an hour just stuffing his face. The guy barely breathed inbetween mouthfuls."

I laughed and he stopped for a moment, his long hair falling in his face. "What?" he asked, and blinked innocently.

I waved my hand. "You look like a puppy dog. Just sitting there eating with you hair falling in you face like that."

"I do not."

"Do to."

"Do not."

"Do to."

"Do *not*!"

"Do *to*!"

I leaned back in my chair. "Try holding your point without any pencils around."

He rolled his eyes. "Very funny. Not my fault I haven't had time to take a shower."

"Oh, jees- Trunks!" I stood up. "That's nasty! When *was* the last time you actually showered?!"

He paused, counting. "Maybe... About two months ago."

"Ew...! That's unhealthy- not to mention gross. Come on, up ya go." I grabbed his ponytail and yanked on it.

"Ow, hey, leave my hair out of this!" He reached back to try and grab back his hair but I tugged on it another time and he obediently got up.

"I hate to sound like a drill seargent, but you *need* to go take a shower! Trust me on this one." I pinched my nose. "I thought something smelled funky."

He rolled his eyes. "Very funny."

"I'm serious!"

I laughed as he made a pouty face. "Do I have to?"

I put my hands on my hips and nodded. "If you don't want any remaining life within a half-mile to up and whither."

He shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed. "Never thought I'd actually be taking orders from you someday." He smirked slightly and bent over to give me a quick peck. I waved my hands in front of him.

"After the shower, Trunks- AFTER the shower! Now shoo!" I laughed and shook my head as he trudged out the door towards the bathroom. For now, I could wait until he was dry.

He came back into the kitchen a few minutes later, his hair dripping but ultimately clean. I grinned and stood up, wrapping my arms around him as he came over to me. He had neglected a shirt, his wet muscles shimmering under the light. He smiled back at me as he wrapped his arms around me tightly and rocked back and forth slightly.

"I think I could get used to you taking showers more often," I mused as he bent down and kissed me. My heart pounded slowly and I smirked as our lips parted briefly before meeting again, slowly sliding against each other.

Trunks made a deep, pleased sound in the back of his throat, and smiled slightly. "You know you're going to be dripping wet."

I smiled back and our lips slid back against each other again. "And you see that as a bad thing?" I gently pulled back, though our lips never parted, and giggled in the back of my throat as I felt something stiff brush against my stomach. I broke into a smile and slowly pulled my lips back, though just for a moment. "Trunks," I giggled.

"You know... my control only goes... so far..." I heard a smile in his voice and he spoke in fragments, as I knew it was also beyond his control to pull himself away for long enough to form a complete sentence. "You shouldn't have... said anything... about being dripping wet... It's a hard image... to push away..."

I giggled and finally pulled away from him. He made a pouty face again.

"Aw, come on, Mei. It was fun for a minute."

I shook my head. "As much as I'd love to, Trunks, I'm just not in the mood." His face dropped noticibly, and I grinned. "Calm down. Some day, Trunks, some day."

----------

I knew it was him- I knew before he even announced his presence. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his shoulder, as usual. He knew what I was thinking.

I turned and forced a smile. He was standing just as I had thought- right shoulder against the doorframe, hands in the pockets of his jeans, lavender hair hanging loosely to the crook of his neck, brushing against his white tee-shirt.

Despite the casual exterior, for the first time I felt intimidated by Trunks' very presence. I couldn't bring myself to honestly smile, I just stood rigid in fear- not fear of him, for I knew he would never purposely harm me- but fear of news. A fear of what would happen if he said anything, if I heard of what was going to happen.

We stood in silence for a moment, tensed, each waiting for the other to strike the first blow. I doubted either of us was willing to step forward and try to grasp what was happening, but Trunks' proud spirit eventually won.

"I guess I just came to say goodbye," he said quietly. Though his voice was soft, it was as if all the secrets, all the hidden stories between us poured out openly, flooding the wall between us and screaming at both of us.

He wasn't coming back.

I don't know who moved first, he or I, but I found myself in his arms, my face buried in his shoulder. There were no tears, just a dry sort of sob that ached as it echoed in the back of my throat. I had cried, wasted all my tears on things so petty that I could barely grasp what they had been- and now there were none left. I had wanted to be strong, so I cried- but now I wanted to be weak, just like I had been before.

It's strange, how we long for things only when they're gone.

Trunks' arms were around me tightly, his face in the crook of my neck. I could feel his breath stagger as it warmed my skin. We were steadily losing each other, and he needed to hold me just as much as I did him.

"Trunks," I finally murmured, a sort of choking hum as the word caught itself in the back of my throat. What I said next, I had prepared myself for for years, mustering the last of my strength to choke it out.

"I'm scared," I whispered, closing my eyes as if for tears, though I knew there were none to come.

He lifted his head and looked me in the eyes. I looked back at him, finding a gaze so deep and full of sadness that I couldn't pull back and save myself.

"I'm scared too."

I couldn't blink- I saw it in his eyes, though my ears refused to believe it.

"I'm terrified, Mei," he said again, moving his hand to the side of my face. "Terrified of losing you. Of coming back and having everything changed, or coming back and finding you hurt, or worse. You and kaasan are all I have left." He gently pulled me closer.

I looked down and rested my head against his shoulder. "Trunks..." A long silence followed, allowing me to compose myself, and brace for whatever reaction was coming. I took a deep breath. "Trunks, when I first came here, I had been on a trip to China. I was on the plane, when the captain came over the intercom and said that they would have to be making an emergency landing in Japan. Those who knew about the androids being around panicked, and most of the plane was in a state of chaos when the warning lights began flashing. I felt my mom grab me and hold me, and I could just barely see out the window. Something had blown half the left wing of the plane off, and everything began tilting. My mom was crying and I saw... I saw one of the androids laughing from what was left of the wing. I don't remember much after that, just screaming and a falling sensation... I woke up still in the plane, but there were only a few people in the cabin..." I took a deep breath and felt my voice stagger. "Everybody left in the cabin had died on impact. I remember sitting there, crying, for only God knows how long. Eventually I was able to get out through a hole in the side of the wall, but all I saw was bodies. They were everywhere. The androids had taken the survivors and slaughtered them. I was so hysterical that I just ran. Ran, and ran, and ran. Like I was trying to run from everything. I found an alleyway and just sat and cried. I don't know how long I sat there sobbing, but by some miracle of God I forced myself to go back to the crash and get my duffel bag. I ran away from the site again, and sat down in a building. I heard the androids on the floor above me, and I sneezed by accident... 17 attacked, and I blacked out. That's when Gohan found me." I didn't even look up at him, but I could feel him breath in sharply.

"Mei..." He slid his hand under my chin and lifted my face to meet his. That's when I felt the tears flood my eyes, a welcome savior. I kissed him, deeply, with more feeling than I had ever experienced. My emotions swirled around me in a torrent, and I was drowning in the flood. He was my only hope, and he was leaving like the rest of them.

Slowly, I felt the innocence in the embrace, in the kiss, leave, melting into a passion that I could barely grasp. It was a passion, a desire repressed for years that finally lept to the surface. I felt his hands slide off my shoulders, down to my waste, up my stomach, wandering...

I made no move to stop them.

----------

I rested my forehead against his chest, my senses intoxicated with the musty smell of denim and delicate hint of lavender oil from his bare skin. I could barely believe what had happened, between the two of us... For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, I felt a tired smile cross my face.

"I love you, Trunks."

I felt his arms hold me tighter. "I love you too, Mei." He gently pressed his lips against the top of my head.

I smiled again, though not for as long as I would have liked. "I..." My voice trailed off, wanting desperately to ask him if it was true, if he was really leaving. Or if this was all just some dream, that he would really stay.

Of course, I couldn't bring myself to it.

----------

Bulma looked me over with the same critical eye she used to isolate bugs in programming code. I sat quietly, picking away at my food, attempting to act oblivious to her gaze. Finally the tension got to me, and I turned my head to look at her. I must have been quite a sight- I was still tired from the night before, not to mention my face was red- only partially from exhaustion, mostly from a blush that I felt flood my cheeks.

As I watched, Bulma's inquiring look disappeared and she flashed me a knowing smile. My blush deepend uncontrollably as she just nodded slightly to herself and set about turning off the burner under the tea kettle. I ran my hand through my hair in an attempt to look as cool as possible- though why I bothered at that point was beyond me.

"So I'm guessing you didn't get much sleep last night," she teased, walking back over to the table with two mugs of tea, one of which she set in front of me.

By this point I felt my blush begin to subside, and I scratched the back of my head, smiling just slightly. "No, I guess not." Bulma just nodded to herself and smiled, but said nothing as she sipped her tea. Leave it to Bulma to start teasing.

We sat in silence for a while, my hands wrapped tightly around the comforting burn of the mug, though never raising it to my lips. Instead I sat, watching the whisps of steam curl delicately around themselves, creating their own world, oblivious to the often overlooked beauty they shed. Totally oblivious to my fixed gaze, a casual observer suddenly transfixed and absorbed into the intricate dance of their life, a brief time in which they swirled about each other and joined and seperated, blisfully oblivious that their creator was no more or less perfect, a person trying to find solice in the torrents around her. Nothing that could prevent them from eventually fading into nothingness, just water vapor that would, sooner or later, condense back into what it started as, and the swirling dance would just start itself over again.

I felt myself hit with a painful realization then, something finally coming to the surface that had nagged at me for my entire time of being, breaking me down until I was finally caught off guard. I clung desperately to something that burned me, that inflicted pain, only because I knew it as my own, and had given me comfort in the past, no matter how much it hurt to hold now. Tiny, brief existances played their length out for me, as beautiful from the outside as they were painful to meddle in, to reach out and touch. My breath scattered them in different drections, yet they regrouped and continued their dance, as if nothing at all had occured, and their existances had continued without falter. For a moment, I found them as my own.

"Mei?" I snapped out of my reverie and turned my head to her. She leaned forward slightly, concern blotching her usually calm face. "You okay?"

I nodded in response, but said nothing. Turning my gaze back to the steam, I frowned and realized it was gone. My tea had cooled itself to the point where my tiny solace was barely visible. I dejectedly took a sip to find the tea warm, not burningly so, but warm enough that I could feel it slide down my throat. "Yeah," I said after a moment. "I'm fine." Silence followed, broken only by the distant sound of Spek's mechanical overcheck of the time machine. I glanced back at the tea, hoping to see that the steam had resurrected itself, or that I had missed it before. I sighed as there was none. "So he's really leaving today."

Bulma paused, then nodded distantly. She was absorbed somewhere else, perhaps studying my face for any trace of my former self, the Mei who could go from uncontrollable bubbling one moment to heartbreaking sobbing the next. Funny how people try to look for something that obviously isn't there. I suppose it's human nature, hoping for something they find dislikable to ultimately destroy itself, and yet clinging to it when any signs of slipping occur. Perhaps it's part of human nature to selectively lack common sense when it's most needed. A hopelessly sentimental race, really. Sentimental and voluntarily naive.

I don't remember any words being exchanged, but I felt my legs lift me and carry me out the door. I unknowingly navigated the halls, turning without realizing. Knowing from experience what lays ahead, what's at the end of the journey, but still risking it. I didn't even know why. Fearing what lays at the end, when the journey is finally behind me. And finally realizing that it's not the end you fear, but what you never accomplished, and at the same moment you're at the conclusion of your journey, the end staring you blantly in the face.

Or, in my case, the doors.

I leaned my shoulder against the door, pushing just enough to open it in near-silence, as if I would arouse some sleeping demon that waited to pounce on me at the first sign of weakness. Any demon that resided near me was internal, eating away slowly from the inside until I was too weak to stand.

I focused my gaze on my final demon, leaning against the door of the time machine, arms folded nonchalantly across his chest. Hair hanging loosely to his shoulders, eyes closed without a flicker. I had one final confrontation to make, and then, if God had any mercy, my journey would end.

"So you're leaving." My voice barely raised itself, not needing to do so for him to hear what I said. It wasn't even necessary to speak, though human nature compelled me to do so.

He opened his eyes, acting as if he hadn't been able to sense my presence. Bullshit, all of it. But that was Trunks. Sometimes the bullshit was the only way to ward off desperation. Even so, he nodded silently. Though he lied to keep all of us going, it wasn't in his nature to downscale the seriousness of times.

I felt as if my legs were glued to the floor, keeping me from running to him, saying my goodbyes, having him hold me for what could be the last time. I felt an overwhelming desire to simply fall to my knees and cry, loosen the noose of emotions that I had woven and was slowly strangling me. I wanted to feel the tears on my face, to release all the pent up frustration and despair that I had tried so hard to hide. Yet a small part of me, a tiny flame somewhere inside, forced my feet to the ground and told me to hold firm. For once, have an excuse to cry- and not. To be strong.

"Mei," he said, after a long silence, "we've been through everything together. I don't want that to be taken for granted." All at once, I felt tears flood my eyes, as the tiny flame inside me flickered and finally burned out. I could feel his arms around me, and I put my head against his shoulder.

But I did not cry.

"Trunks," I said, practically whispering the lone syllable that had become a second nature to me. Only now, something was different- it felt unusual, almost foreign. Yet its sound still comforted me, in ways I couldn't fully comprehend. "Before you go..." My voice trailed off and I stepped back, to reach into my pocket and take out the tiny black box that I had kept with me for five long years, never letting it out of my sight. I extended it to him, and he took it quietly, curious. He opened it slowly, and I began to explain.

"It was my parents'," I explained quietly. "I honestly don't think I ever knew which one it originally belonged to, since it was always with them whenever they were together. My mother used to tell me as a little girl that..." I watched him as he let it fall to hang from its chain, dangling it from his fingers. "That it was a chip of a dragonball, and it would bring its wearer luck wherever they went." I watched the light scatter in impossible colors as it danced and reflected off the pendant. The "dark" half of a yin-yan.

Orange, and with a tiny star where the dot would be.

I looked towards the floor as I tried to compose myself before I spoke again. "I wanted you to have it. For luck."

"Mei," he began, "I have something... I have to ask you." I could hear him trying to remain cool, collected, but some sweet undertone gave away a very faint, distant quiver, hidden well from the nuances of the normal ear. And then he was on one knee, my hand in his, looking up at me with a glimmer of what I could only describe as a sort of hidden hope. "Mei, will you marry me?"

And finally, after years of trying to hide any sort of open emotion, I fell to my knees and threw my arms around him, and began to cry with a feeling that I hadn't felt for the five longest years of my life.

Open joy.

I felt myself rocking back and forth slowly as I buried my face in the crook of his neck. I don't know long we sat there, just rocking, my tears flowing without restraint. It felt beautiful, and, for once, so did I. We just sat and rocked slowly, feeling each other's arms around us, until I heard Bulma's footsteps stop in the doorway, and a happy silence so comforting that none of us dared to break it.

Finally I whispered, "I love you, Trunks."

His voice came back delicately to my ears. "I love you too, Mei."

After the longst time, my tears stopped, and we both stood and kissed. It was honest, a true love that time and distance deserted, quietly respecting the moment of lovers' meeting. I felt my demons quiver in fear, and, for the first time I could recall, pull back to the dark, dank holes from which they first sprung, leaving me in a peace that shunned all logic. I was there, and he was there, and nothing could touch us.

I felt myself pull back, posessed with the knowledge that no love could delay the inevitable. I stood back, in silence, just looking at him, burning the image into the recesses of my mind to try and hold the smallest part of him, the smallest memory I could muster.

While I watched, Bulma went up to Trunks and the two embraced. I found myself wondering how exactly Bulma felt, afraid of losing not only a hope for herself, but a son whom she had raised for eighteen long years. A son who she had seen transform from a laughing, happy innocent, to a fierce warrior with a hardened gaze and a perpetual frown. I wondered how she had survived all those years gripped by knowledge of his destiny, of what he was born and raised to do. How she had surpressed her demons for years on end, never faltering with a display of weakness. I thought back to the time when Trunks had been beaten to within an inch of his life and she had been forced to help carry him inside, to tend to his wounds. I had cried pitifully afterwards- but not Bulma. She had kept the same fiery spirit, the same determined heart that had compelled me to see her not only as a brilliant scientist, but as a warrior in her own rite. And to be not only Trunks' mother, but almost my own.

After the two said their goodbyes, Trunks turned and began towards the machine. Away from everything he was leaving behind. Away from his mother, his home, and now, from his fiancè. Despite the inevitable unfolding in front of me, I felt a smile creep onto my face, and I reached my hand back onto Bulma's desk.

"Trunks!" I called. He turned quickly, as if my cry were of desperation, instead of just a syllable. I brought my hand level with my shoulder and felt the wood slip around my fingers as I flung it at him. I barely had time to blink as he caught it with ease, gained from years of practice and experience. He turned it over in his palm and smiled at me.

"This one I'm not going to throw back at you," he said back, and smiled. "This one I'm keeping for luck. Besides, never know when I'll need to write something down." He put the pencil in his pocket and stepped inside the machine, and the hiss of escaping steam signaled the activation of the system. The programming code had been smoothed, Trunks was alive and in fine health, the core was now clear. I smiled at him fondly as the doors began their slow closing.

"You two take care of yourselves," he called to Bulma and I. "It's only a year."

"You take care of *yourself*," I answered. "I'm not planning on being a widow before I'm even a wife." A grin spread over Trunks' face.

"Be careful, honey," Bulma called. "And feel free to knock some sense into your father." I turned at the lightheartedness of the latter comment, only to find Bulma's eyes just slightly shimmering and a smile spread over her face.

Trunks laughed. "I will, kaasan."

With that, the doors closed.

----------

I stepped outside, fingering the tiny slip of paper that bore little than one sentence in my careful, precise handwriting. Already the sky was a little bluer, a half-shade less gray than the last time I had seen the open air. Five years of my life, spent almost entirely in the Capsule Corporation headquarters, a small world within itself. A world consisting of just three people. Bulma, Trunks, and myself.

I felt a tiny breeze pick up, and tilted by head back to let it run along my neck. I turned my eyes towards the clouds. 17 and 18 had been off on the rampage along Europe, last time Bulma had been able to pick up any signals. They had ransacked the Iberian peninsula, and within hours they were only 100 kilometers off the coast of Corsica. That had been a week ago, and by now they were no doubt somewhere around what was formerly Nanjing.

I felt the piece of paper begin to slip from my fingers, but I caught it and held it firmly, as not to crinkle it. The breeze picked up again, and I looked at the slip. There was one last question to be answered, one last fear to deny of its place.

I raised my hand and felt the breeze kick up into a gust of wind, and felt the paper loosen, and finally free itself from between my fingers. I smiled, and turned my gaze back towards the clouds. They had broken in a few places, casting a few weak but almost angelicly hopeful rays of sunlight along the ground. The sun would return, eventually. One year. I smiled quietly to myself as the paper twirled off in the wind, throwing a few fading glances of one sentence, written in black pen in a careful, precise handwriting.

'You're invited to a wedding.'

----------

Blue. The sky, for once, was blue.

Bulma stood off to my left, wearing the same, two-piece blue dress that she had worn on and off for five years. Her blue hair swept freely about her shoulders, softening the appearence of years and her time-worn smile. Her dress was carefully fixed, an attempt at removing the wrinkles that had accumulated over the years, though the familiar creases sat right where they always had, a testimate to time spent on more important things than laundry.

Trunks stood ahead, his faded denim jacket well-worn, the same muscle shirt and black pants that had he had worn so often resting loosely on him. His hair, though slightly mussed, was tied in the back with a piece of simple yarn, and hung to his shoulders. His face was turned, though he was not- his face wore a smile, a smile that seemed almost casual, one of the few things left of what once was an outwardly quiet, polite nature.

Spek bobbled almost sentimentally to the right, scanning around with his lens half-closed. Spek's actions were ironicaly accepted as his own form of emotions, and, at the moment, he seemed as if to be holding back tears.

I closed my eyes and walked up, stopping next to Trunks. I felt his hand on mine, and realized how much we had both changed since that first time I had broken down in his arms. We had both grown so much, both grown older and stronger, time tempering our nerves, not dulling them. Since our first meeting, I had secretly waited for this day, locking away the knowledge of my desire from Trunks and myself.

I stood there, eyes closed, feeling the sun warm my face and the breeze ruffle my loose hair. I was still in my jeans and a tee-shirt, the decidedly most formal thing I had left, being the only clothes without tears or stains. The necklace dangled at its accustomed place around my neck, throwing light against my closed lids. A laughter filled my ears, a familiar laughter that forced a smile to my face.

'Mei! Hey, Mei!' I opened my eyes and turned to its source. Andrea and Gail stood there, both in matching dresses, holding small bouquets of flowers in their hands. They were laughing carelessly, and the laughter rippled in my ears as I smiled.

'I told you this was gonna happen, I *told* you this was gonna happen!' Gail declared, stomping a foot and laughing. She pointed at me and Trunks.

Andrea laughed. 'Mei, I never thought I'd see the day when I'd watch my best friend get married.' She sniffled a bit. 'I always cry at weddings.' She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. 'I've gotta say, though, you ended up catching yourself a fine one.' She looked at Gail, and they grinned.

"Oh no, here we go," I muttered under my breath with a laugh, and shook my head.

'Matchmaker matchmaker make me a match, find me a find, catch me a catch...' Their voices trailed off and they broke down in laughter.

'I send everybody's regards!' Gail added. 'We're all here, you just can't see anybody but me and Andy. Oh, and one last note-' Here she paused and pointed at Trunks. 'If I were alive, he would be MINE.'

I smiled. Time hadn't altered their antics in the slightest- nor had the supposed great barrier of all, death. Still they ran around and joked, making light of every situation they could possibly encounter. Maybe I hadn't lost all of my past after all.

All at once I felt a crowd around me, a mixture of the familiar and the foreign. I turned to see Trunks looking to his right, eyes focused on seemingly nothing. I followed his gaze.

The figures themselves were blurred to me, seen only through a dark glass. Perhaps it was that I had never truly seen any of them, though the shapes and what little distinctions I could make between faces made all the difference. The photograph shot back into my mind, all there. Except for one, who stood off to the side, his arms folded tightly across his chest. I smiled, and recognized him from the second photograph. Though he wasn't particularly tall, he was very well-built, and his spiked hair seemed to make up for the difference in height. His brow was furrowed, and from the creases in his forehead, I figured it had to have been for quite some time. His eyes were intense, and shone with what an old friend had once called "the gleam of a warrior."

I smiled as the figure regarded me, then nodded gruffly at Trunks. He glanced at me only once more, and flashed me what I could best describe not so much as a smile, but a casual half-smirk that I had seen Trunks don so many times before. I turned to Trunks and tugged on his arm slightly, smiling.

"Hey, you okay?" I asked knowingly. He looked back at me and smiled genuinely, as if a great weight had just been lifted from his shoulders.

"Oh, it's nothing," he responded, and we turned to face our destiny together.

The priest was a short, portly man who had credited both Trunks and God with keeping him and the few scattered remaining suriviors alive through such a tumultuous time. He spoke about how honored he was to wed the two of us, though I don't think either Trunks or I were listening. We just stood there, hand in hand, letting the world spin without us for a moment. The sun had broken the clouds, the sky was an incredible blue, and even the remains of the city seemed relieved, albeit shortly before reconstruction, of the end of the war.

"... Do you, Trunks, take Mei to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for richer or for poorer, through sickness and in health, 'till death do you part?"

"I do."

"... And do you, Mei, take Trunks to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for richer or for poorer, through sickness and in health, 'till death do you part?"

I felt my chest rise in a deep breath. "I do."

"If anyone here..." He glanced at Bulma and smiled jokingly. "If anyone here sees any reason why these two should not be wed, then speak now, or forever hold your peace."

I looked over to my left, and there was everybody- everybody I had ever known and loved, everybody I had ever counted on for support or guidance, and all my friends and family, and all who I had confided to about my dreams of a wedding day. My mother and father stood with their arms around each other, my mother with tears of joy in her eyes, my father smiling and nodding at me. Andy and Gail stood, grinning from ear to ear, the rest of my friends near them, all smiling at me, a few with tears shed. Sara jumped up and down as Garrett unsuccessfully tried to pull her down to sit next to him. And all around me were my teachers, my mentors, my classmates.

My life.

Yet none spoke a word, they just smiled, a few cried, and the rest tried not to. Even if their appearence was only an illusion of the mind, I made no move to dismiss it; instead, I smiled back, my heart only prevented from racing solely by the calming blow of the breeze and the sound of birds- of birds, after all this time!- being carried on the wind. The scattered, white, puffy clouds drifted in lazily, as if only for scenery.

I could tell Trunks was glancing over at the others; at what was promised to him, all those of the life he was planned to lead. Gohan casually flashed him a thumbs-up. And Vegeta stood, the half-smirk never faltering.

The priest cleared his throat and smiled. "Then what God has given may no man put asunder. I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

I turned to Trunks, letting the blue sky and the birds and the puffy white clouds pause. Destiny had taken us down the same path, and my long, lonely battle against demons and fears and doubts about myself and those I held dear had finally ended. His hand brushed the side of my face, his deep, azure eyes gazed into mine, and I let crumble all the walls of falsehood and forced strength fall slowly towards the ground.

And we kissed as the world around us crumbled.

----------

"Mei."

I tightened my eyes shut as the familiar voice whispered in my ear.

"Mei," it repeated, and I felt my eyes flutter open, through my desperate measures at keeping them closed. The light in the room had become overwhelming, and I closed my eyes again for a brief moment before shielding them with my hand and opening them.

"Hey, there. Thought you'd never get up in time."

My eyes slowly adjusted to the light, and my ears rang with the sound of my own name. A figure- no, two figures- stood in front of me, one with its hand on my shoulder. As the light became less pervasive, I saw a cascade of brown, curly hair fall as almost to cover the figure's face. Glasses peeked out at me above a familiar smile, one I had barely recognized.

"Andy?" I asked hastily, my voice not at a cry at this level of half-conciousness.

"Surprise," added another familiar voice. Blonde hair pulled back into a bun, a reddened face, glasses resting high on the bridge of the nose.

"Gail?" I sat up, and stopped. My comforter was bunched up in places, though relatively undisturbed. An alarm clock glowed annoyingly at me standing next to a row of books and a plastic figurine. I looked around frantically... my room... my room...

"Yo, Mei, you alright?" Andy's hand rested itself firmly on my shoulder. "You have a bad dream or something?"

I shook my head numbly. A dream... a dream... Jesus, a dream...?

"Come on, dammit," Gail cried, and grabbed me by the wrist. She yanked me abruptly out of my bed and I stumbled after her, barely regaining my balance. "It's starting in five minutes!" I blinked quizically at her, confused to a point where I could barely distinguish between what I was thinking and what I was saying. She shook her head at my vacuous stare and sighed. "Just get ready! It's gonna start! I've got the tape all ready." With that she turned out the door.

Andy walked up to me and smiled. "We decided to give you a little going-away party. It's only two weeks, but hey, it's an excuse to get together." With that, she turned and followed Gail out the door, closing the door behind her and leaving me to dress.

Though I couldn't explain why, I pulled a pair of jeans and a faded tee-shirt off of the floor, and immediately dressed. My head spun with unanswered questions. Had it really been all a dream? How *could* it have been? It was so vivid, it defied all logic. It defied all common sense. Then again, common sense was not one of my strong points.

I started towards the door, then stopped immediately. I felt a tingle rush up and down my spine, and I turned slowly towards the shelf above my headboard. The plastic figurine guardian stood there as I had left it, arms by its sides. I froze in my tracks, almost as if I was truly terrified of it.

"Mei, come on!! It's gonna start!!"

Gail's voice shook me back to reality, and I quickly snatched the figurine up and dashed down the stairs. Gail and Andy sat on the couch in the living room, my mother and father finishing their packing on the table in the other half of the room.

"Hey, honey," my mother greeted, smiling. I ran up and hugged her quickly, and gave her a peck on the cheek. Though I knew I wanted to stand there, to feel how it felt to be held by her again, I found myself pulling away and heading towards Andy and Gail, who immediately flipped on the TV and moved over to the side to make room for me on the end. Gail picked up the VCR remote and hit "record" as the Toonami screen flashed up. Toonami... Toonami... Cartoon Network.... Home...

The familiar Toonami 'bot walked on screen and hopped in his chair, following the same routine as always. He gestured towards the screen a few times before speaking.

"It's finally time. The early bird special has arrived. Ladies and gentleman, the future Trunks special has landed."

I blinked and felt myself waver slightly. A dream... It *had* been a dream... But then... Then that would mean that...

The robot piped up again before I had any time to speak, or to finish a complete thought, for that matter. "This is going out for a special dedication, from Trunks, to Mei. 'Wherever you are, hide the pencils.'"

"OOOOH," my friends teased, gently shoving me against the end of the couch.

"Looks like Mei's got a secret admirer," Andy began.

"I don't wanna hear that," my father responded from the other room. "Tell me who he is, I'll kick his ass."

Andy and Gail laughed, and my mother playfully slapped my father's arm. The confusion on my part melted away, replaced by a perverse sense of peace with the world, and a desperate longing for my dream world.

I simply wrapped my hands longingly around my Mirai Trunks figurine.

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EPILOUGE;

I glanced one last time at my Mirai Trunks figurine, the one that stood forever by my headboard, but now was temporarily stationed next to my computer. It stood there with a small smile, the same small, empty smile that had always been molded onto its plastic face. It stood with both arms by its sides, gaze focused on something out of the mortal realm, something I myself failed to grasp.

I habitually rolled my shoulders around, feeling the familiar pop in my shoulder blades that allowed me to focus on other things. My hair was tied back tightly, the ponytail keeping not only the hair out of my eyes but keeping it off the back of my neck, preventing me from overheating in an already stuffy room. The computer hummed along at its almost unbearably slow speed, finally opening a blank text window that I found myself smiling at.

I set about racking my brain for an opening. It wouldn't do to just start it right off the bat- no, a good story had to ease into a plotline. Climb, climax, anti-climax. It worked for others, I would make it work for me.

I straightened myself in the chair and, after a moment of legal disclaimers and the beginnings of a summary, I began to type.

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Mei, gimme a break-"

"I'm going to sleep and I'm catching my plane to China tomorrow at 5:00 in the morning. There's nothing you can do to keep me up any longer."

"Please?"

"Both of you, goodnight."

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This one's for you, Trunks.

------------------------------

Wowies, that was a long story, wasn't it? Started from Aug. 19, 1999 and finished October 23, 1999 at 10:23 PM EST. (I'm babysitting as I write this, thankfully the kids are asleep.) I personally thought it was worth the work, though at points the whole plot of the story (if there ended up really being one) got lost. Compelled to be written down in response to a glimpse of what I thought was a ring on Trunks' finger in the manga, then going back and the "ring" not being there. Overall, though, this is the first real fanfic I've ever finished and I hope you enjoyed it.

I didn't use too much Japanese towards the end of the story- though what I did use with Trunks got slightly altered. From what I've read (both fanfictions and a few profiles), Trunks has an odd (though in Japan not totally uncommon) habit of leaving off the first syllable of a word if it's a vowel sound. So technically kaasan and tousan should be okaasan and otousan, and motochan should be imotochan.

So for those of you who don't speak Japanese too well (HELLO!!!), it's a brief list of terms used;

**-kun - added to the end for male students and also for a male friend

**-san - used as a term of respect. Strangers, or for Mr/Mrs/Miss

kaasan - Mother

tousan - father

motochan - little sister

gomen nasai - sorry/forgive me

arigatou - thank you

kuso - shit (silent u)

nani - what?

All that aside, will you PLEASE (with sugar on top?!) visit my webpage at; http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Club/6792

I LOVE YOU ALL!!!!

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"Scully, do you believe in the afterlife?"

"I'd settle for a life in this one."

-Mulder and Scully, the X-Files.

"There is no such thing as human nature- only human habit."

-Jewel Kilcher

Amistad es para siempre.