Disclaimer: Things I don't own- the north pole, the devil, and DBZ. But
mostly DBZ.
A/N: I got into ANOTHER random angsty mood, and well . . . you guessed it, another fanfic. *Laughs* Next time I should just eat my weight in chocolate or anything . . . Anyway, this is in the alternate Trunks timeline, and Gohan is asking Bulma to let Trunks fight the androids with him. I probably got most of the numbers wrong (I'm horrible with details), so hopefully they're not TOO off and you can just . . . smile and nod as they pass. Yes.
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"No."
A pale, slim hand slammed down on the table, causing the dishes to rattle and Gohan to flinch slightly.
"Bulma, please . . ." he started, rising from his seat and leaning on the table. A single lamp hung on the ceiling, casting a steady stream of light as a barrier between them.
"I said NO, Gohan! I'm not changing my mind on this!"
"He could be our only hope against the androids . . ."
"Look at him! Just look at my son . . . your pupil! He can barely walk because of what those monsters did to him!"
She gestured to an open door, behind which lay the severely battered Trunks. He was hooked up to several complicated machines that cast strange green and yellow glows across his pale face, making him look even sicklier than he was. His lavender hair was damp with sweat, and he struggled with each breath of air he took in. Gohan squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, desperately trying to make his voice stay steady.
"He'll heal . . ."
"I KNOW that." Bulma replied angrily, narrowing her eyes at him. " I KNOW he'll heal, and as soon as he can breathe without feeling too much pain, he's going to be right back out there again. And he'll keep on doing that until he dies or they're destroyed . . . and you know as well as I do that he's no match for them!"
"He CAN be! If he gets the chance he could be stronger than I am!"
"He'll never get the chance if he dies at 12!"
"I know you're worried about losing him, but you can't just keep him locked up! He is Vegeta's son . . . YOUR son. Neither of you guys were ever content with sitting on the sidelines, so why would you expect Trunks to be? He won't just stand by and watch all those innocent people get slaughtered! It'll kill him!"
"Right, so why should he wait, right? He should just go out and get himself killed off as quickly as possible!"
"That's not what I meant! God, Bulma, why are you making this so hard?!" With a frustrated sigh he plopped back into his seat, barely noticing the far-off look in Bulma's eyes. Her voice softened, and it was as if she forgot Gohan was even there.
"10 years ago . . . I watched all of you guys go off to fight the androids. And I watched as each and every one of you were dragged back . . . dead. Burned, cut up, mutilated to the point where I almost couldn't recognize some of you. Some of the strongest fighters in the world reduced to . . ."
She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. After a moment of composing herself, she took a deep breath and continued on.
"And the whole time, I couldn't do a thing . . . not a SINGLE. DAMN. THING. to help. Now I have a chance to save my son from the same fate as his father . . . and I can't let him go." She turned her gaze to Gohan, her eyes begging him to understand. "I'm sorry . . . I can't. It hurts too much to see it happen twice in a lifetime . . . especially if I could have stopped it the second time."
"I know," he said softly. "I was there too. Losing dad was bad enough . . . but when they killed Piccolo . . . I . . . I didn't know if I could make it."
"I remember . . ."
She smiled faintly, recalling the sorry state that the demi-saiyan had been in when his mentor had been killed. Gohan shook his head sadly, also remembering.
"I was so young . . . at first he refused to let me go with him to fight the androids. He knew me . . . he knew that I'd freeze up and end up getting myself killed. But he also knew that I'd tag along anyway . . . I was such a stubborn little brat . . . and in the end he had to just let me fight."
He sighed and shook his head, laughing bitterly.
"I panicked and froze, of course, right before they shot the blast . . . and Piccolo dived in front of me to shield me from it . . . it didn't kill him immediately, so they just left us for dead . . . they laughed at me and told me to run along home. I tried to stop the bleeding, but . . . there was just so much blood . . . and it kept pouring out of his wound . . . he told me to cut it out. That he was going to die, and not to make such a big fuss out of it . . ."
At that Bulma managed a soft chuckle. "That's Piccolo alright."
"He knew . . . the whole time, he knew he would end up having to protect me. I was furious at him! Why did he let me go?! I wanted to fight, but not at the price of losing him . . . I asked him, and he said . . ."
He paused, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards at the fond memory.
"He said, 'you're just like your father . . . it's in your blood to play the hero. That's just who you are. I'm not going to change that . . . all I can do is to make sure you stay alive long enough to do it.'"
Gohan let the words sink in, hoping that Bulma would realize why he was telling her all this.
"Trunks knows that each time he goes out there he might not come back. He might not have been there 10 years ago, but he knows enough about it to see how much pain it caused you. He would never want to put you through that again if he could help it, but the stakes are too high! He and I . . . we're the only hope for the city . . . and he knows that. Asking him to not fight would be like sticking a laser in his hand and telling him to kill all those people himself."
She looked as if she was about to argue, but instead sighed in resignation. "You saiyans . . . always saving the day."
"I'd never let anything happen to Trunks. You have to believe that."
The seriousness of his expression and the sincerity in his voice wouldn't let Bulma doubt him even if she tried.
"I know."
"If it came down to it . . . I would die to keep him safe."
"I know," she repeated softly. "Oh, Gohan . . . you've had to grow up so much so fast. Goku would have been proud of you . . ."
He didn't reply, but the thin but grateful smile on his face was enough for her.
"We'll beat those androids," he said at last, after a moment of comfortable silence. "I know it seems hopeless now, but . . . as long as we keep fighting, things will be ok somehow . . ." Gohan yawned and trailed off, folding his arms on the table and laying his head on top of them. Within a few seconds, he was out cold.
Bulma padded over to the linen closet and pulled out a thick blanket, dragging it over to the sleeping demi-saiyan. As she was draping it over him, she noticed the black scribbles on her hand. Upon closer inspection, she realized that they were some measurements she had jotted down for the time machine she was working on.
"You're right, Gohan . . ." she thought to herself. "If you can just hold those androids off a little longer, I can finish the time machine and give Goku the heart medicine. Then maybe . . ."
She smoothed the blanket out and walked over to where her son lay. Some color had returned to his face and his breathing was much less labored, due to the saiyan blood in him that allowed his body to heal much quicker than that of an ordinary human. She reached down and gently brushed a few sweaty strands of hair from his face.
"Maybe changing the past will give us a chance for a future."
Bulma bent down and lightly kissed Trunks on the forehead.
"Rest up," she whispered. "You have some android ass to kick!"
A/N: I got into ANOTHER random angsty mood, and well . . . you guessed it, another fanfic. *Laughs* Next time I should just eat my weight in chocolate or anything . . . Anyway, this is in the alternate Trunks timeline, and Gohan is asking Bulma to let Trunks fight the androids with him. I probably got most of the numbers wrong (I'm horrible with details), so hopefully they're not TOO off and you can just . . . smile and nod as they pass. Yes.
-----------------------------------------------
"No."
A pale, slim hand slammed down on the table, causing the dishes to rattle and Gohan to flinch slightly.
"Bulma, please . . ." he started, rising from his seat and leaning on the table. A single lamp hung on the ceiling, casting a steady stream of light as a barrier between them.
"I said NO, Gohan! I'm not changing my mind on this!"
"He could be our only hope against the androids . . ."
"Look at him! Just look at my son . . . your pupil! He can barely walk because of what those monsters did to him!"
She gestured to an open door, behind which lay the severely battered Trunks. He was hooked up to several complicated machines that cast strange green and yellow glows across his pale face, making him look even sicklier than he was. His lavender hair was damp with sweat, and he struggled with each breath of air he took in. Gohan squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, desperately trying to make his voice stay steady.
"He'll heal . . ."
"I KNOW that." Bulma replied angrily, narrowing her eyes at him. " I KNOW he'll heal, and as soon as he can breathe without feeling too much pain, he's going to be right back out there again. And he'll keep on doing that until he dies or they're destroyed . . . and you know as well as I do that he's no match for them!"
"He CAN be! If he gets the chance he could be stronger than I am!"
"He'll never get the chance if he dies at 12!"
"I know you're worried about losing him, but you can't just keep him locked up! He is Vegeta's son . . . YOUR son. Neither of you guys were ever content with sitting on the sidelines, so why would you expect Trunks to be? He won't just stand by and watch all those innocent people get slaughtered! It'll kill him!"
"Right, so why should he wait, right? He should just go out and get himself killed off as quickly as possible!"
"That's not what I meant! God, Bulma, why are you making this so hard?!" With a frustrated sigh he plopped back into his seat, barely noticing the far-off look in Bulma's eyes. Her voice softened, and it was as if she forgot Gohan was even there.
"10 years ago . . . I watched all of you guys go off to fight the androids. And I watched as each and every one of you were dragged back . . . dead. Burned, cut up, mutilated to the point where I almost couldn't recognize some of you. Some of the strongest fighters in the world reduced to . . ."
She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. After a moment of composing herself, she took a deep breath and continued on.
"And the whole time, I couldn't do a thing . . . not a SINGLE. DAMN. THING. to help. Now I have a chance to save my son from the same fate as his father . . . and I can't let him go." She turned her gaze to Gohan, her eyes begging him to understand. "I'm sorry . . . I can't. It hurts too much to see it happen twice in a lifetime . . . especially if I could have stopped it the second time."
"I know," he said softly. "I was there too. Losing dad was bad enough . . . but when they killed Piccolo . . . I . . . I didn't know if I could make it."
"I remember . . ."
She smiled faintly, recalling the sorry state that the demi-saiyan had been in when his mentor had been killed. Gohan shook his head sadly, also remembering.
"I was so young . . . at first he refused to let me go with him to fight the androids. He knew me . . . he knew that I'd freeze up and end up getting myself killed. But he also knew that I'd tag along anyway . . . I was such a stubborn little brat . . . and in the end he had to just let me fight."
He sighed and shook his head, laughing bitterly.
"I panicked and froze, of course, right before they shot the blast . . . and Piccolo dived in front of me to shield me from it . . . it didn't kill him immediately, so they just left us for dead . . . they laughed at me and told me to run along home. I tried to stop the bleeding, but . . . there was just so much blood . . . and it kept pouring out of his wound . . . he told me to cut it out. That he was going to die, and not to make such a big fuss out of it . . ."
At that Bulma managed a soft chuckle. "That's Piccolo alright."
"He knew . . . the whole time, he knew he would end up having to protect me. I was furious at him! Why did he let me go?! I wanted to fight, but not at the price of losing him . . . I asked him, and he said . . ."
He paused, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards at the fond memory.
"He said, 'you're just like your father . . . it's in your blood to play the hero. That's just who you are. I'm not going to change that . . . all I can do is to make sure you stay alive long enough to do it.'"
Gohan let the words sink in, hoping that Bulma would realize why he was telling her all this.
"Trunks knows that each time he goes out there he might not come back. He might not have been there 10 years ago, but he knows enough about it to see how much pain it caused you. He would never want to put you through that again if he could help it, but the stakes are too high! He and I . . . we're the only hope for the city . . . and he knows that. Asking him to not fight would be like sticking a laser in his hand and telling him to kill all those people himself."
She looked as if she was about to argue, but instead sighed in resignation. "You saiyans . . . always saving the day."
"I'd never let anything happen to Trunks. You have to believe that."
The seriousness of his expression and the sincerity in his voice wouldn't let Bulma doubt him even if she tried.
"I know."
"If it came down to it . . . I would die to keep him safe."
"I know," she repeated softly. "Oh, Gohan . . . you've had to grow up so much so fast. Goku would have been proud of you . . ."
He didn't reply, but the thin but grateful smile on his face was enough for her.
"We'll beat those androids," he said at last, after a moment of comfortable silence. "I know it seems hopeless now, but . . . as long as we keep fighting, things will be ok somehow . . ." Gohan yawned and trailed off, folding his arms on the table and laying his head on top of them. Within a few seconds, he was out cold.
Bulma padded over to the linen closet and pulled out a thick blanket, dragging it over to the sleeping demi-saiyan. As she was draping it over him, she noticed the black scribbles on her hand. Upon closer inspection, she realized that they were some measurements she had jotted down for the time machine she was working on.
"You're right, Gohan . . ." she thought to herself. "If you can just hold those androids off a little longer, I can finish the time machine and give Goku the heart medicine. Then maybe . . ."
She smoothed the blanket out and walked over to where her son lay. Some color had returned to his face and his breathing was much less labored, due to the saiyan blood in him that allowed his body to heal much quicker than that of an ordinary human. She reached down and gently brushed a few sweaty strands of hair from his face.
"Maybe changing the past will give us a chance for a future."
Bulma bent down and lightly kissed Trunks on the forehead.
"Rest up," she whispered. "You have some android ass to kick!"