A/N: Okay, so I know I didn't clear too much about the past few months in their time. Don't worry, there will be some flashbacks and some gap-filling in the next few chapters. I realized that there was a LOT of detail lacking here, probably making things confusing. So, hopefully this helps. Kind of a filler/explanation chapter.

Next chapter gets exciting! I wanted to get into it early, because DBZ tends to move quickly from villain to villain. And so is the same here. And I took some advice - 17 and 18 have been training with Trunks, and have improved their skills, as the Mirai 17&18 were weaker than the Main Timeline 17&18. So yeh.

Let me know how you like it :3

ONE

"You need to go back, Trunks." The cool voice of 18 informed the young Saiyan, who was fresh home from a successful journey back. He couldn't even fathom what she was saying; go back? Everything was finally in it's place. His mother had managed to erase the programming that controlled their malicious, sadistic tendencies, and they had found a place within the Brief's home as his mother's assistants, a small penance for their free-will. 17 had a knack for electronics, while 18 tended to anything Bulma could come up with, which worked out well for all three of them.

"What do you mean? I just got here!" He questioned, through the forkfuls of food he'd managed to wolf down. Trunks hadn't eaten before he left, and had been absolutely starving. Thankfully, Bulma had anticipated as much; a large, warm dinner awaited him when he entered the newly remodeled house. 17 and 18 had been more than useful over the past few months, helping he and his mother rebuild the things they had destroyed, which included their Capsule Corp. home. Anywhere they had brought violence and death, they had gone back and repaired hospitals, schools, houses...anything that they could. And within the three months they had been reactivated, things were finally settling down.

"If you're trying to bring anyone back," She began, catching his arm before he could shovel in another bite. "Which I'm sure you are, you'll need them. And the only way to get them is to go back." At this, 18 let go, sitting down across from him and flipping golden locks over her shoulder. He admired momentarily, sunlight entering from the window behind her like a sheath of light. She could've been an angel; a half smile fell on his lips involuntarily.
Of course, their attitudes really hadn't changed; when his mother had reactivated them, the evil programming and unmentionables aside, they had almost seemed grateful. The twins had worked hard, even training with Trunks to try and repair Earth's defenses. While 18 was mediocre with household chores, she was a devil in the battlefield. He enjoyed training with her, the ferocity and intensity of her strikes always baffling him.

Now, however, they were back to their usual selves. Although, he had to admit, on more than one occasion he'd found 18 in their garden, singing softly to the sun and the plants while she worked away on Bulma's task list. He'd admire, for a little while, before she'd catch him and bring back her callous nature.

But he knew differently. She seemed lost, still trying to regain parts of herself after the hell that was being Dr. Gero's slave. He'd thought he'd heard her crying once, late at night. Apologizing, self-loathing...and a vow. A vow to do better.
And so far, she did.

"It doesn't work like that, 18. I created a whole new timeline…a new chain of events. Their future isn't going to be the same as this one. It'd be like wishing on a different dimension - it simply won't work. And how do you know I've been trying?" The bite she'd caught in his hand scooped into his mouth, but he chewed slowly, in thought. The android had been right about one thing; he wanted his family, his friends back. Desperately. And over the past few months, he'd thought of every possible alternative, exhausting all of his resources to find a way. But so far, nothing had turned up, and it left an awful taste in his mouth.

"Well then, looks like I'm out of ideas." Arms folded over her chest, and she stared out the window, a look of distaste crossing her face. "And because, you talk in your sleep. Loudly." He could see her fighting off the hints of a smile. Ah, yes. The charade that is the Android. He let his mind wander; without the programming, she would be just a person, right? Essentially human. His mind ran in circles, and he shook his head lightly, causing lavender strands of hair to fall into his eyes. With a sigh, he scooted his chair across the floor and dropped the fork down onto the plate.

"Me too. I think for now, though, we should stay focused. There's a lot to do, a lot to fix. And a company to run." The plate, which was only half eaten, was abandoned as Trunks exited the small room. His heart swelled a little, thinking back to the past. The time he had spent with his father, with everyone, was more than he could have hoped for, even now. The steps down to the basement, where his mother had busied herself, thudded beneath his heavy feet.

Behind him, 18 watched his brutish frame disappear into the darkness. Guilt overtook her momentarily; like most of her feelings, though, it soon passed, and she focused her attentions onto other things. One could sit there and sulk, or make themselves useful, and she was the useful type. "I'll bring them back," She whispered, staring out the window again. "I owe you that much."

As he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, the familiar smells of his mothers floral perfume blended with oil and grease hit him. He'd always loved it here, where she worked; when he was little he would sit on the bench, pretending to hammer things and create silly little toys out of scrap parts. He spotted her now as she hummed to herself, hands busily reassembling some sort of gadget. It fizzled and popped, then sprang to life with a plume of smoke.

"Ha! I did it! Did I ever tell you your mom's a genius, Trunks?" Her aqua eyes fell upon her son, who now stood by her side. Ruby red lips pursed into a smile. It felt good for him to see her this way, with things returning to normal. She finally had the sparkle in her eye and the fire in her soul, all missing since her father's death. Of course at night he'd still listen to her sobs, the void where her friends and family had once been. Where his father had once been.

But during the day, Trunks would watch her scurry about the house, finding the tools and materials she needed to build some of her new designs. In these few months of peace and recuperation, along with the android's help, they had managed to repair all of West City. But for his mother, it wasn't good enough; she worked herself to the bone, creating new tools to help speed up the process and fix the world. To distract herself from her pain.

Trunks set a hand onto his mothers, smiling at her. "Yes, I think I remember you saying that." She laughed, turning away from the strange device that lay on her workbench. "Are you ready to eat something, too? You're going to disappear if you don't start eating more, and working a little less."

Bulma chuckled, pride in her son swelling. I'll see him get married now. She thought, resting a hip against the bench. Often she found herself thinking these things, her only salvation from the loss of nearly everyone she's known. But now was not the time for those thoughts. She'd save them for when she was alone, away from prying eyes. Sometimes she would confide in 17; he was a surprisingly nice boy, once you got to know him. Bulma seemed to be the only one he really took to in the house, even distancing himself from his twin. It broke her heart, as he was crumbling beneath the guilt and the emptiness he felt.

Bulma understood; to remember what you'd done under someone else's influence, to have been a human, had a soul, and be reduced to...parts. It was all confusing. Were his feelings really his own? Bulma tried to explain, tried to help, but she could only do so much. Maybe that's why she worked so hard, so tirelessly. The more 17 repaired, the more he seemed to smile.

"Well, I think you're right, son. My hands are sore, I stink like oil, and I could use some food." She then followed him up the stairs, sunlight washing over her milky complexion. It felt marvellous, as if she'd never felt it before. Had she really been working that hard?

"Why don't we eat outside, Trunks? We've been stuck inside for long enough, and it's starting to get really warm out there." As they topped the stairs, she offered 18 a friendly wave. "Hey, you and 17 want to come with? You could probably use a break, too." Bulma offered a wink, and was out of the room in a flash to get herself ready. It seemed they never did things like this anymore.

But they were going to start.