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Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of it's characters.
AMA: I was inspired to write this brotherly-ish 'love' fic. This is not a shonen-ai. They care about each other a great deal, but not in that way.
In the Hands of Death
Gohan didn't know where he was, or where he was headed; all he wanted to do was get away. Away from his mistakes, his Sayian blood, the blood of former enemies that stained his hands with invisible guilt.
Hours ago; only hours ago he had saved the world from another impending doom: Perfect Cell.
It felt like days. In the past, though he had been involved in the battles to protect/save the world, he had never been the one to deal the finishing blow, to kill the evil, to destroy the threat; up until now, that had been his father's duty – otou-san had been the one to stain his hands of murdered blood.
Never small, innocent, impressionable Gohan. Never.
As he flew, heedless to the ever-changing landscape below him, memories bombarded him, one after another.
Flashback series
He was five again, and trapped under the impossibly strong arm of Raditz. "Stupid, weak halfling boy." The strange man muttered darkly to him.
"You don't even fight me; all you do is cry. You're not even near worthy of the Saiyajin blood that flows in your veins. Maybe you might start to be if you'd just even struggle for a change. Humph! Urusai kodomo! Annoying kid!"
And with that, the strange man forced him into the small, smelly contraption he had arrived in. Gohan was left to think on the man's words as he waited for his tou-san to save him, and the more he thought, the more he wanted his tou-san to be proud of him.
Settling that thought, he concentrated on the sounds of battle to figure out where to go, and then he let loose the thing that lay edgily growling in the back of his mind.
He got his first taste of battle with that – literally explosive – move. And his first taste of the thrilling rush it gave him; the way his blood sang an ancient triumph in the midst of battle; the way his mind filled with that dreadfully sickening glee…
He was glad that he had stayed angry; had he not been, he knew he would have then turned to his otou-san just to keep the rush. He promised a frightened self that he would never lay a hand on anyone again; the results were just too scary…
Now he was six, and once again under an enormously strong arm – this one inhumanly green.
The more he tried to tell Piccolo-san that he didn't want to fight because bad things would happen, the more the distant green man would yell and push him to the limit. Gohan figured out that Piccolo-san thought the 'bad stuff' was hurting another person, as instilled by his okaa-san, and he knew that Piccolo-san would never understand the horrible glee he got when he fought or sparred seriously.
With this realization, he learned quickly to suppress as much of it as he could, so he could spar and fight without the horrible internal struggle. Only if he let loose would it ever appear again – hopefully.
He was seven and facing a wickedly sneering Vegeta out in the middle of nowhere with Kuririn and his otou-san.
With an encouraging shout from both of the formerly mentioned, he plowed head-first into battle. Seeing his indestructible tou-san in such a state told him that he had to let loose if he wanted to even scratch this warrior.
So he did.
It seemed like he blacked out, and when he came back 'round, his tail was gone, and Kuririn was carrying him away at frightening speeds, congratulating him on his work, telling him hurriedly that his tou-san would handle the rest.
Eleven years old and counting, stuck on Namek. Facing one of the toughest fighters ever, and too scared of what happened last time to let it all out.
His otou-san had to bail him out of that mess, and had made him feel worst instead of better – though he didn't dare show it – with his "you did your best" routine.
Days later, he saw Kuririn get mercilessly murdered by Furiiza. No one else knows, but in that instant time literally stopped. Furiiza himself appeared before Gohan with a mocking grin.
"My, my, a Saiyajin," he murmured, walking slowly around Gohan with intense, cold eyes, "And so little to be fighting for the thousands of lives of a single planet."
He reached out to grip Gohan's chin firmly with his alien hand, "You'd make a fun pet; better that that Vegeta-baka, because, I can tell, you would obey me without question." Furiiza's touch had the effect of a paralyzing dart: he couldn't move, even though he begged his legs to do so.
Walking around him again, Furiiza scrapped his hand roughly over the place where Gohan's heart was tauntingly, "Bow to me, Little Brat Saiyajin, like a good servant!" Furiiza barked amusedly when he was in front of Gohan again.
With a weak whimper, Gohan obeyed, dropping to his hands and knees before the being that could kill him at will in this frozen time that his otou-san could not reach. Furiiza cackled in evil delight, "It would not be like keeping a Saiyajin as a pet – you are too tame and timid; but it would be great fun still, ne?"
"I will spare you – if only because I wish to see your father squirm and cry out mercy when I hold you captive in my grasp. But you are no Saiyajin – remember that. Your blood means nothing if you will not even retain what little dignity I allow you."
And so, Furiiza retuned to his position before the freeze, and waited until Gohan was sitting up to unfreeze; it looked as though Gohan had merely collapsed with grief and shock.
At fourteen came the Androids. With each encounter, he got something of the same lecture: he wasn't worthy of fighting unless he would at least try to defend his measly little life! They could just kill him in one blast the way he was fighting!
But it was always when they were body-locked with him, always whispered scathingly into his ear in hopes of leaving a wound and at the same time gaining more of an opponent. No ne else knew of these encounters, either.
And all it did was pour salt onto an old and deeply burning wound. A wound scratched with his first fight.
End series of Flashbacks
Right after the Androids had come Perfect Cell. He, too, taunted Gohan in his peaceful mannerisms. He, however, did it out-right, where everyone could see, and everyone could hear; his hurt tou-san, Vegeta-san, Piccolo-san, Kuririn… especially the one he looked up to secretly, Mirai Trunks.
Everyone thought him a strong boy for holding up under Cell's taunts, but really, he was just cringing behind a perfected mask at an old attack. Mirai Trunks himself told Gohan to ignore the things opponents said to anger fighters during battle.
Mirai Trunks was older, wiser, and more experienced. He didn't have to worry about the taunts, and shouldn't have to worry about one weak little kid in a time like this, but he did, and it gave Gohan something to hang onto.
Until his tou-san died.
Then nothing mattered anymore except killing Cell. Gohan let his Saiyajin abilities take over; he killed.
It was too much all at once.
Though Super Saiyan two had taken much out of him, the shock allowed Gohan the energy he needed to wander aimlessly in his over-coming despair.
He landed in a slightly-familiar forest, and after looking around dejectedly for a moment, he realized numbly that this was the forest that surrounded his home. He was well into it's depths; no one would find him for at least a few days.
His legs gave way, and he made no move to stand again. A drop of warm water pelted his hand, and then anther, and when he brought said hand up to his face, he found it wet with tortured tears.
His eyes fell on a pure white sliver of stone, it's edges piercingly sharp. He picked it up in numb and trembling fingers, at the same time, exposing the pale tender flesh of his opposite wrist.
One move. One strike and I could end it; this terrible, suffocating numbness, hurt, swirl of emotions that I just can't handle anymore…
He didn't even realize he had been moving the rock to his wrist as he thought until a brief, sharp burst of pain in his wrist brought him back to his senses.
The once-white rock was now stained a wet, sticky crimson, it's lethal point buried deep into his skin. With a half gasp of pain and half sigh of relief, he slowly pulled the shard through his skin.
I deserve to feel this pain, and then die. I failed otou-san, both as a Saiyajn son and as a savior of his life. I killed and helped kill other lives, for Kami's sake! This is my end…
Just as he felt the pulling resistance of his veins begin to lessen, a blurred slivery form burst through the trees and slapped the rock out of his grasp. So far gone in his grief was he, that he didn't notice the figure, it's actions, or even when it shouted his name with an achingly familiar voice filled with sadness.
Two hands held him by the wrists, and when it was clear that he would stay still, the hand holding the uncut wrist moved to pinch the severed skin together. Applying pressure, and just enough ki to seal the wound properly, the hand slid to encase his wrist like a treasured heirloom.
A moment more, and the hand slid beneath Gohan's chin, accompanied by a softly cajoling voice, "Gohan-kun… Please look at me, Gohan…"
Mirai Trunks' blue eyes widened in shock as they caught sight of Gohan's empty, listless face , blank, tortured eyes, and tear-streaked cheeks. "Gohan…!" Mirai Trunks breathed, and then he sighed softly in understanding, pulling the younger teen into his strong embrace.
"Oh, ototo… little brother…" he gently rubbed Gohan's back as the younger teen began to cry once more, "It's not a bad thing that you killed Cell. You did what you had to. It's not murder; it's necessity."
Gohan pulled away, his face twisted in agony as he burst out, "But you don't understand, aniki! I liked it! I wanted to kill him – for the fun of it! I've always been weak! When I let go, I want to fight, and kill, and hurt! I enjoy the pain of others when I'm like that!" he sobbed harder, and fell back into Mirai Trunks' chest, the older teens' shirt clutched tigtly in his fists.
Trunks softened even more, "I know, ototo, I know. It's the ruthlessness of Saiyajin blood. You can ask any of us; we all feel it when we fight, otou-san, Son Goku-san and I. We just control it – remember who we're fighting, why… It's always going to be there, you just have to remember that you have the choice to give in or not.
"Being 'weak' – which that is not, by the way – feeling the way you do, killing a monster for the sake of saving a helpless people; that's no reason to kill yourself. Think of your mother: al she has now are you and baby Goten; and Piccolo-san would go nuts without you, you're the one he'll do anything for and the one he opens up because of; Trunks-chan wouldn't have anyone older and more responsible to turn to – I know if I hadn't had the Mirai you, I'd'a been Andriod slush before you can say 'doom to Chikyu.'
"Next time you can't handle your emotions, tell someone; find a shoulder to cry on; hit a pillow until the stuffing flies out – but never try a stunt like this again! Yosh'? Now that Perfect Cell is gone, I'm going back home to save the world, too. I'm going to come back one day without warning – you'd better still be here, happy and healthy, got it? Aishiteru, ototo-kun, itsu moomoi-dashimas' kore.
Gohan sniffed softly and rubbed his eyes with a small nod, "Hai, aniki, I won't forget. I love you too, big brother." Trunks smiled and ruffled his hair, "Why don't we keep this little piece of tie to ourselves, ne? I don't think anyone would take the news well. Lets get you home. Come on, get up." Trunks bent low, and Gohan climed up piggy-back obediently.
Gohan was asleep before Trunks even took off, and it would be two days before he woke again. Everyone said it was because he achieved a new level of Super Saiyan, but Trunks knew better.
He stuck around long enough for Gohan to see him off, and both boys, practically brothers, parted after one life-changing experience, both changed for the better, forever.
End.