A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.
Vegeta and his eight year old son Trunks go back in time to warn the past of the Androids' arrival. When the machine needs repairing the two of them are stuck. At least the past has good food! There's just one problem... Bulma begins to fall in love with Future Vegeta, instead of his younger self. Can Vegeta ensure his son's birth, defeat the Androids, and save the world?
Vegeta had never felt guilt over his past deeds. While he understood that the atrocities he'd committed - the purges, the torturing for intel, the drawing out of his victims' deaths - were morally wrong, he also accepted that they had all been necessary to survive under Frieza's reign. To show weakness meant death, and the only way to show strength was to lord it over others. No, while he wished the acts hadn't been necessary in the first place, he never regretted them.
Until now.
Seeing his son's distraught expression, with eyes that had come close to revering him to now filled with dismay and disgust, Vegeta felt a sharp pain in his chest that wouldn't subside. He deserved this, he knew that. He deserved hatred. He deserved none of the love and affection his family had given him over the years. But Trunks… the boy did not deserve this. He had done nothing in his life to warrant being stuck with a father with so much blood on his hands.
Vegeta wanted to beg Trunks to understand, to try and forgive him, but if this was his punishment, his karma, so be it.
Dragging his gaze away from his trembling, teary son, Vegeta turned to the girl, who stood beside her mother, an eerily blank expression on her face.
Vegeta sucked in air through his teeth to smother his rage. "What the hell were you thinking?" he asked, managing to stop his voice from rising too far above its usual decibel.
Ara wrapped her hand around Seria's shoulders. "She didn't mean to-"
"No, don't make excuses." Vegeta cut her off with a snarl. "She knew exactly what she was doing."
"I showed Trunks what he needed to see," Seria said, tilting her head to the side. "He was afraid you had withheld the truth."
Vegeta grit his teeth together, pushing down his rage. Seria couldn't help it, he knew. She had always been like this, with no sense of boundaries. Her gift was instinct to her, and trying to stop her from diving in and out of people's most intimate memories, and dropping others in them was like trying to make a waterfall flow upwards.
He never should have come here in the first place. It was a risk, he'd always known that, and yet once more he'd tried meddling in the past, getting unforeseen consequences.
"I think we should leave you two to talk," Ara said with a sigh. "Come on Seria. Let's go pick up some food for these two. Can you believe Trunks has never tried iced eggs?" She ushered her daughter out the front door, giving Vegeta a slap on the back and a muttered "good luck" on her way out.
As soon as they left and the door had closed behind them, Vegeta sank to his knees beside his son and placed a cautious hand on his shoulder. "Trunks…"
"Don't." Trunks shook him off and shrank backwards. "You were just as bad as the androids. You destroyed lives. Entire planets. And you… you enjoyed it." He stared at Vegeta, his eyes begging for him to refute it.
"Yes." Vegeta choked out the admission. He bit down on his tongue to prevent himself from trying to make excuses. There were none that he could give that would make this right.
"Did Mama know?"
Vegeta started at that, eying his son warily. Trunks had managed to mask his face, hardening his eyes and straightening his mouth in an expression that was painfully familiar because Vegeta had seen it on his own face.
"Yes," he said. "But she wouldn't listen... Bulma would never listen."
"You're not…" Trunks swallowed hard and stared at the floor. "You're not a bad person anymore… right?"
"I would kill again, if that is what you mean."
Trunks winced and looked back up. "Why? You know it is wrong."
"Trunks…" Vegeta ran a hand over his face, breathing out deeply. "If it meant saving you, I would do anything, no matter how wrong."
"But never for no reason?"
"I have never done anything for no reason in my life," Vegeta replied.
Trunks pressed his lips together and frowned, going silent for a moment before speaking. "Those people you killed… You had no choice then."
"There is always a choice." At Trunks falling expression, Vegeta attempted to explain. "I could have refused, and then I would have been killed and another soldier would have taken my place. I could have made all the deaths quick, and I would have been considered weak, and tortured, then killed if I was lucky. I could have only killed those I was ordered to kill and my men would not have feared me, and would have eventually mutinied because out here…" Vegeta gestured upwards. "Out here in the universe, the only thing that matters is power."
"Kill or be killed," Trunks said, chewing on his bottom lip.
Vegeta gave him a silent nod, meeting his wide, unblinking gaze. Suddenly, Trunks flung himself forward into Vegeta's arms, clinging to his neck with a muffled sob.
Vegeta let out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding, and embraced his son, praying to all the gods in the universe that this meant Trunks forgave him, that he had not destroyed the only good thing in his life.
"It's okay," Vegeta said again, feeling for Trunks' pulse in his wrist. It was weak – so weak that if he didn't get help soon, Trunks wasn't going to make it. Vegeta glanced around the small backyard wildly, peering around for anything that could help, but he found himself at a complete loss for the first time in his life. There were no senzu beans, no regeneration tanks, no hospitals. His only option was to try to tend the wounds himself. At least he'd had plenty of practice on his own wounds over the years.
Vegeta made to stand up and carry Trunks to a safer location, but two pairs of feet landed in front of them, sending grass and dirt flying with the impact of their landing. Vegeta recoiled in horror and clutched his dying son closer.
"How cute." The dry female voice made Vegeta shudder. He looked up to see Android Eighteen's sneer. "The great warrior prince has feelings."
Next to her, Seventeen had a matching smile on his face. "Isn't it adorable, sis? I didn't know monkeys could cry."
Vegeta hissed through his teeth. Gods, they sounded so much like Frieza and his men, throwing taunts designed to rile him up with the superiority of someone who knew he couldn't hurt them. He was desperate to rip these two metal freaks to shreds, but even as all his muscles tensed, Vegeta remained conscious of the small child stirring in his arms.
"Papa." Trunks' small hand gripped his forearm. Vegeta dropped his gaze to see two blue, terror-filled eyes. Eyes that begged Vegeta to save him.
"Everything is going to be fine," he murmured to his son. It was a lie of course. If Vegeta fought the androids now, Trunks would likely die from his injuries. If he didn't fight, the two androids would probably kill them both.
He thought quickly. Maybe he could stall for time and come up with a plan... He needed an exit strategy, and fast. "Why now?" he asked. "We haven't attacked you directly in years."
"Exactly," Seventeen said, his monotonous voice laced with boredom as he inspected what looked like dirt and blood under his nails. "It's been no fun at all."
Eighteen flashed her white teeth as she stepped forward, one hand on her hip, the other sweeping her short blonde hair behind her ear. "Things have been so dull around here. If you weren't going to bring the fight to us, we had to bring it to you."
"I will kill you both," Vegeta said, but his voice lacked its usual bravado, even to his own ears.
Both the androids laughed in response, but Vegeta ignored them and concentrated on his surroundings. They were in a suburb dense with housing. He could sense several low ki signatures in the area - humans probably. Potential casualties. If he survived this he might need their help.
Realising that he had to make the best out of two bad choices, Vegeta carefully laid Trunks on the grass. He gripped the boy's hand tightly. "Hold on, son."
Trunks whimpered in response, his eyes rolling back into his head.
Gritting his teeth, Vegeta let go of the boy's hand, then stood up and stepped in front of his son. "You want a fight?" He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms. "You've got one."
"Oh, goodie," Eighteen said, cracking her knuckles. "Finally, some fun."
Vegeta didn't waste time. He responded with a ki blast that had her sliding backwards and blocking, then sent another towards her brother. He had to get them as far away from Trunks as he could.
With a cry of fury, Vegeta powered up to Super Saiyan then launched himself at Seventeen, delivering a sharp uppercut followed by a drop kick that send the android spiralling into a building.
Eighteen growled and pounced forward, kneeing Vegeta in the gut before slamming her knuckles into his face. He fought back, but could do little more than block as her brother recovered and joined in, his foot cracking ribs and making Vegeta double over with a gasp.
Seventeen howled in delight as he grabbed Vegeta by the front of his shirt and tossed him up into the air. Vegeta saw what was going to happen next, but despite knowing it was going to hurt, he lowered his ki enough to let the double kick from both androids send him crashing across the roofs of houses until he dropped through some tiles and landed in a crumpled heap in the middle of a dusty, abandoned bedroom, a good three blocks away from Trunks.
He let out a groan, realising that in his eagerness to draw the fight away from Trunks he may have lowered his ki too much. Everything felt off-kilter, and Bulma's missing ki left a hole in him that made it difficult to focus on anything else. Vegeta coughed, and blood splattered on the floorboards beneath him. His shoulder was dislocated too, he realised as he faded out of his ascended form to save his strength, and lay where he'd fallen against a bed frame. Fighting against dizziness, he focussed on his son's ki. It was still there, if a little weaker than before, but there were several human ki signatures near him as well.
Vegeta let out a sigh of relief as both the androids dropped through the hole in the roof.
Good, he'd lured them away from Trunks for now.
"That was pathetic." Eighteen sneered as she brushed some dust off her denim jacket. She then knelt beside Vegeta, placing a hand on his wounded shoulder squeezing so hard it took all his will not to cry out. "Your brat put up more of a fight than you."
"Especially when he turned his hair blonde," Seventeen added. "If we shaved off your hair, would that limit your power?"
"Touch my hair and I'll rip you apart," Vegeta snarled. Then Seventeen's words hit him. "Wait… blonde? Trunks… Trunks turned Super Saiyan?"
"Is that what you call it?" Eighteen rolled her eyes. "Lame. Just like you." She ran her hand down his torso, pausing over a deep cut in his side which also happened to be where his ribs were broken. With a grin, she dug her nails into his wound, scratching the bone underneath.
Vegeta felt the blood drain from his face from the effort it took not to scream out. His breathing came in husky gasps, and he grit his teeth together so hard his jaw ached.
The only thing enabling him to hold it together was his son's ki. It was moving, along with the humans, and Vegeta could only hope that meant they were helping the boy. But Vegeta knew if he was going to get out of this alive, he had to make his own escape. Running away never sat well with him, chipping away at his pride each time, but the only thing that mattered was his son. Pride be damned.
"Maybe we'll kill you and keep your brat around to play with," Eighteen hissed at him, pressing her palm into his side, further crushing his ribs. "Or maybe we'll go get him now and torture him in front of you."
Seventeen crouched down on the other side of him. "Or you could join us. This is what you used to do, isn't it? Terrorise planets and clear them of sentient life? We could have so much fun together, and we would only beat the shit out of you when we are bored."
"We're always bored," Eighteen pointed out. "That's why we are here."
"True." Seventeen gave a boyish grin. "Gotta be better than dying in a pool of your own blood though, right?"
Vegeta laughed, but the sound turned into a hacking cough. When he'd managed to stop, he gave them a lazy smirk. "I spent a lifetime destroying planets for a psychopath. I'm not going to spend another working for the two of you."
"Torture it is," Eighteen said with a grin. "I'm so glad that's what you chose. I've been looking forward to hearing your screams of pain."
"Go fuck yourself," Vegeta gasped out. Then he gathered the energy he'd been holding back and exploded his ki outwards, flattening the house around them and sending the androids hurtling backwards.
In the dust from the explosion, Vegeta made his escape, staggering out of the blast zone towards the maze of houses to get out of sight of the androids.
As much as he wanted to go to his son, Vegeta headed in the opposite direction, his only plan to lead the androids as far from Trunks as possible. He made it out of the flattened area of earth and began moving through the streets, keeping close to any walls that remained upright.
When he saw the androids flying overhead, Vegeta kicked over a trash can and sent it rolling down the street. As planned, it drew the androids in, and Vegeta continued to weave through, playing cat and mouse.
"Come out, monkey," Seventeen called. "We won't hurt you… much." He laughed, a cackling cry that filled the streets.
"Don't make this harder on yourself," Eighteen said, her voice coming in from another angle. They were closing in on him.
Hoping he'd lured them away far enough, Vegeta powered back up to Super Saiyan, then aimed a ki blast at a four-story building next to Seventeen. With a groan, the building crumpled, falling on the android, but Seventeen merely blasted his way out of the wreckage. He sent a retaliatory blast in Vegeta's direction, but the Saiyan managed to dodge it by ducking down another street. Unfortunately, that other street contained Eighteen, who grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against a wall, pinning him there so his legs dangled in the air.
Fuck, he hated being short.
"Over here," she called out to her brother.
Vegeta clawed at her hands as her grip cut off his oxygen.
"Just kill him," Seventeen said, coming around the corner. He shook building dust from his dark hair. "He's more trouble than he's worth."
Eighteen grinned and powered up a ball of ki in her hand, pressing it to his chest. "Does the mighty prince of Saiyans have any last words?"
As if speaking was an option. She tightened her grip on his throat, laughing at his futile attempts to breathe.
Vegeta kicked out at her, but the black dots dancing in front of his eyes impaired his vision, and his movements felt lethargic, as if his limbs were too heavy for his body.
As the warm ki pressed closer to his chest, right over the spot Frieza had blasted through him, Vegeta let his eyes close. Trunks was safe, he could sense it. That was all that really mattered-
A whistling sound cut through the air, and Vegeta felt himself fall to the ground and he sucked air back into his burning lungs. An explosion to his left made him open his eyes, and he realised the androids were gone.
"Come on!" A small girl, about Gohan's age with dark hair in pigtails, came running forward, a rocket launcher strapped to her back. She grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders then started hauling him away. "That won't keep the androids down for long. We've got to go."
"What…" Vegeta inhaled a few breaths then swallowed, struggling to talk through his crushed windpipe. "Who…"
"I'm Videl," she said, dragging him inside a building. She leant him against a wall and pulled up a rug. Underneath was a wooden trapdoor that she hauled up. "Your son is safe. I'll take you to him."
Vegeta stared at her for a moment, but realised he had no other choice but to trust her. When she gestured to the hole in the ground, he nodded, then jumped down it, falling for a couple of stories before landing and promptly topping over on the damp ground.
Videl climbed down the ladder, closing the door after her and submerging them in darkness.
"You're lucky," she whispered, her hand finding his arm again. "We have a doctor in our group."
Vegeta nearly collapsed in relief, but managed to get himself to his feet, pulling his arm out of the girl's hand and using the walls for support instead. Trunks was going to be okay.
Vegeta sat in a worn but comfortable brown chair beside Trunks' bed in a small windowless room that looked like a concrete bunker. He held his head in his hands as he concentrated on his son's slowly improving ki. The boy was hooked up to a machine with an oxygen mask over his mouth and Vegeta could hardly bare to look at him. Every time his gaze settled on the mottled bruising on the boy's face and limbs, he felt as though he'd been cut in half.
The door opened and Vegeta looked up to see Videl come in with a tray of food.
She set the tray down on a small side table, then frowned, looking him up and down. "You need to see the doctor too."
"I'm fine." Vegeta scowled at her, knowing his raspy voice gave away just how 'not fine' he was.
"Eat," she instructed, pointing to the tray. "The doctor will come see you shortly."
Vegeta contemplated telling her to mind her own business, but a rumbling in his stomach gave him away. Scowling, Vegeta grabbed a bread roll of the tray and tore into it with his teeth, his gaze flickering from her to his son and back again.
"No one will hurt you here," Videl said, raising her palms. "There's about a hundred of us and we work together to survive."
Vegeta swallowed the bread, grimacing as it went down his sore throat. "You run the place?" he asked, eying her carefully. She looked young, but then again, he'd been on solo purging missions at her age.
"My father does." Videl looked amused at his question, but her small smile faded at her next words. "The other boy… the one who can turn blonde like you. Is he…"
"Dead." Vegeta took another bite of bread, fighting the urge to scream or kill something or just completely break down.
"I'm sorry." Videl looked at her lap, curling her hands around each other. "He saved my life once. Saved the whole city really, not that it mattered in the end. Most died eventually. Was he… was he your son?"
"No," Vegeta said instinctively, but frowned when the answer sat wrong on his tongue. "Not by blood," he settled on, his stomach churning even more. "I will destroy them both." He dropped the remaining bread on the tray and fisted his hands. "For killing Gohan. For killing my… my…" He closed his eyes, choking on the mere thought of never seeing the blue-haired woman again.
"My father used to say the same thing," Videl said quietly. "But survival is the best we can hope for."
Vegeta shook his head and opened his eyes again to settle his gaze on his son. "No." He reached out to touch brush the damp hair back from Trunks' forehead. "This will be over eventually. And if I fail, he will not."
Vegeta accepted their food, relieved that they gave him the amount a human would normally eat because he felt so queasy he worried he wouldn't keep it down. He even allowed the humans to send their doctor in and tend to his wounds. But no matter how much they tried to convince him to get some rest, Vegeta refused to leave Trunks' side and remained perched in the chair, monitoring his son's ki as the beeping machines kept him alive.
It wasn't until Trunks' ki improved enough to be sure that he would pull through that Vegeta placed his hand beside Trunks, needing to feel the warmth of life radiating from him, then allowed himself to close his eyes and lean back in the chair, letting a fitful sleep overtake him.
He dreamt of Frieza and the androids, merged together in a grotesque form that tormented him with threats to his family. Threats to rip them apart. To kill them outright. To force Vegeta to kill them himself.
"I'll never let you hurt them," Vegeta growled in his sleep, only to instantly awake with a gasp and realise that it was too late. The androids had already killed two thirds of his family.
At the feel of something moving beside his fingers, Vegeta snapped his eyes open and looked down at his son.
"Papa," Trunks mumbled from behind the oxygen mask, his free hand reaching to pull it off.
"Trunks." Vegeta couldn't help but smile in relief. He helped the boy take off the mask and sit up. "Careful, boy. Your injuries are not healed yet."
Trunks coughed and waved his hand towards the water jug on the table. Vegeta poured him a glass and helped him tip it back.
"Slowly," he instructed, looping an arm around Trunks' shoulders to keep him upright.
The moment Trunks had drunk enough water, Trunks shook him off with a scowl. "I'm fine, Papa." His gaze inspected Vegeta closely, his blue eyes so like Bulma's as they changed from irritation to concern. "You're hurt." They widened as he glanced wildly around the room. "Where are they?"
Vegeta opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. He swallowed hard and shook his head. As desperate as Vegeta had been for his son to wake up, he'd also been dreading this moment… dreading the answers he would have to give to Trunks' inevitable questions.
"Gohan. Mama. Where are they?" Trunks voice rose and broke on the last word and two tears tracked down each side of his face.
"Trunks… I'm sorry… They…" The boy stared blankly as Vegeta stammered, trying and failing to say the words.
"No." Trunks' bottom lip wobbled and he clenched his hands into the sheets.
"I wasn't… I couldn't…"
"No!" Trunks threw himself out of bed and into his father's arms, the boy's small fists beating against Vegeta's chest. "Mama!"
"She's gone," Vegeta croaked out, wrapping his arms around the boy and rocking him back and forth as he writhed in his embrace. "They are both gone."
"You lie!" Trunks screamed and sent a fist into Vegeta's jaw.
The blow didn't hurt, but it was enough of a surprise to make Vegeta drop his arms and Trunks jumped out of them, his ki radiating around him.
"Trunks. Calm down," Vegeta said as firmly as he could manage, standing up with his arm outstretched to his son.
Trunks just yelled louder in response, his ki knocking over anything not secured in the room. The first flickers of blonde began to show and Vegeta stared, open mouthed. It was true then. Trunks had become the legendary at six years old.
The door burst open just as Trunks fully erupted into waves of golden ki, and Videl and a tall, muscular man with a shock of curly black hair and a handlebar moustache came running in.
"Make him stop!" The man yelled over the sound of Trunks' cries and crackling ki.
"He'll give away our position, if he doesn't destroy this entire compound first," Videl added, shielding her face with her arm as the ki snapped in a wider circle.
"Trunks!" Vegeta tried again, stepping into the aura of ki to place his hands on the boy's shoulders. "They are gone, but you and I are here. We will avenge them. Then we will bring them back."
"How?" Trunks wailed, his ki dropping slightly. "Mama is dead. There's no time machine without her."
"We will finish it," Vegeta said, gripping onto Trunks' shoulders tighter. "You and me. I have the plans. Your mother left me instructions in case this happened. We can do it, son, but I need you… I need you to lower your ki now, and I need you to be strong."
"I can't…" Trunks let out a sob, his ki extinguishing with a pop and his hair fading from yellow to purple. "I can't be strong, Papa."
"You can." Vegeta caught the boy as he collapsed forwards, then sank to the concrete ground with him. "You're a Saiyan Prince. And you are my son." He buried his face in Trunks' soft hair and breathed slowly as he held the shuddering boy. "I've got you," he mumbled. "We'll do it together."
After the discovery of the truth behind his father's past a day ago, Trunks had kept to himself, barely talking to his father, and avoiding Ara and Seria at all costs. It wasn't hard - Ara had given Trunks his own bedroom and he hid in there, only coming out for meals. A bedroom to himself was something he hadn't had in years. He didn't normally mind sharing with his father, but he was grateful for the privacy in this case. Things between Trunks and his father were strained - Vegeta kept looking at him like he was going to break, and every time Trunks looked at his father he saw the aliens he'd cut down so brutally, and he knew Papa could see it in his eyes.
At a knock at the door, Trunks glanced up from the book he'd been reading (he'd been amazed to discover that the translator in his ear worked on the written work as well) When he checked the ki signature, he sat up in his bed, cross legged on top of the blankets.
Seria.
"Come in," he said, torn between nervousness and curiosity. He did not want to go back into any memories.
Seria opened the door and stepped inside, leaving the door ajar. "My mother said I should apologise."
She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall beside the door, not looking in the least apologetic as her dark eyes gazed at him without blinking.
"Okay…" Trunks glanced at the door, wondering if he could make a run for it. "Are you… going to?"
Seria frowned and cocked her head. "Going to what?"
"Apologise."
She looked him up and down then took a step forward. "You appear unharmed."
Trunks sat up straighter on his bed, frowning at her. "You don't think you did anything wrong."
"'Wrong' is subjective." She took another step. "I have the memories of over fifty people in my head. Showing you your father's past does not come close to any of the wrong I have seen." Another step, and suddenly she was at the foot of Trunks' bed and he had the sudden urge to blast a ki shot at her and bolt. "Showing you that your father saved me and my mother, showing you that even though Veggie had been trained to kill to survive since he was half our age, he still had capacity for good… how is that bad?"
Trunks shut his eyes and shook his head, still unable to escape the memory of watching his father kill innocent lives. "Saving one or two people does not make it right when he's killed thousands in a day."
He felt the bed dip in front of him and opened his eyes to see Seria sitting on the bed.
"Right and wrong is not a list you try to keep balanced. What matters is what you do despite the bad, despite the evil." She held up her hand, showing Trunks the burned skin, then pointed at the scars on her face. "I got these when I was two. One of Frieza's men found my Mama and tried to take us in. Veggie found out and abandoned his mission to come save us. Do you know what Frieza did to people who disobeyed orders?" She leaned in close to Trunks, holding up her hand like a threat. "Showing you those memories… now that would be wrong."
Trunks let out a shuddering breath, remembering the flashes of his father's dreams he'd caught over the years. Yes, he had a good idea of what his father had gone through any time he'd rebelled against Frieza. He gripped the blankets underneath him and squeezed his eyes shut.
"He's still your papa."
"I know," he hissed out.
"I'm not sorry I showed you," Seria said quietly. "But I am sorry you are upset, and that it made you angry at Veggie. I had hoped… I had hoped we might become friends."
Trunks opened his eyes his surprise. Seria stared at him earnestly, a small smile curling her lips.
"I don't have any friends," she said. "Most people are afraid of me. Or think I am… peculiar."
"I can't imagine why," Trunks said sarcastically.
Seria laughed, her dark eyes sparkling and for a moment she looked like the young girl she really was.
"You… you won't ever do that memory thing on me again?" Trunks asked. He supposed he didn't dislike Seria. He couldn't imagine what he'd be like if he had the memories of fifty people haunting him.
"I promise." Seria held up her hand so her fingers pointed to the roof. "No memory sweeping or pushing."
"Okay," Trunks said, copying her hand movement as he sensed it was like Earth's pinkie swearing. "Friends then."
Seria grinned at his copying of her hand movement, then placed her hand back in her lap.
Trunks couldn't help but settle his gaze on her marred hand. "So, how does it work? Do you read the minds of everyone you touch?"
"You mean, did I read your mind?" Seria said with a widening of her eyes that looked suspiciously innocent. "No, I didn't. I can choose whether to sweep for memories, or push them in, or to do nothing at all."
Trunks relaxed slightly next to her. He'd been worried about accidentally touching her and being thrown into another set of memories. "Can your mama push memories as well?"
"No. Just sweep." Seria twisted her fingers around, glancing sideways at Trunks. "And she takes longer too because she needs to sift through a person's memories to find what she's looking for, while I simply absorb everything." Her dark eyes looked at Trunks without blinking, her mouth suddenly a straight line, all humour gone from the corners. "My papa's father - my grandfather - had abilities too. He could see the future. Mama thinks maybe that's why my abilities are so strong."
Trunks stared back at her, wondering what it was like to have the memories of other people rattling round in her brain. Especially if some of those people were bad enough to make Vegeta's deeds look good.
"Do you want to play a holo game?" Seria asked, breaking the sudden silence. "Mama got me a new one."
Trunks nodded even though he had no idea what a holo game was. He was willing to do anything if it meant forgetting about psychic abilities and memories for a while.
Seria leapt off the bed gracefully and tugged on Trunks' hand. He flinched at the touch, but when nothing happened he let her lead him out of his bedroom, down the hall, and into another room.
The room was cavernous, with dim lighting and midnight blue walls. There were several black, plush bench seats pushed against the back wall, but it was otherwise unfurnished. Seria pressed a button was on the wall that Trunks had assumed was a light switch, but instead an orb at the other end of the room began to pulse with a pale blue light, getting faster and faster until it exploded around the room into a three-dimensional painting drawn with blue light. In the room were armoured people of many races, all frozen in a variety of positions, some with weapons mid strike, others with bare hands up defensively.
Trunks stepped into the room and reached out a tentative finger to touch a soldier closest to him. His finger past straight through the blue light.
"Put this on," Seria said, passing him a metal clasp. She put one on herself, snapping it around her wrist, so Trunks did the same. "Now try," she instructed, pointing at the same soldier.
Trunks reached out again, but this time his finger fell against the soldier's arm, hitting something warm and solid. "Freaky," he murmured, pulling his finger back and staring at it.
"No ki," Seria said. "The cuff dampens it, but yours is so strong you could probably break it. This game is about technique only."
"What am I meant to do-"
"Holo. Begin!" Seria called out before Trunks could finish his question, and the room burst into a flurry of sharp ear cries and movement.
The soldier nearest to Trunks brought his fist forward, lodging it into Trunk's shoulder and sending him stumbling backwards. The hit didn't hurt exactly, although he'd definitely felt it, and Trunks couldn't help but grin. Now this was sparring! He leapt into the fray with Seria, attacking and blocking.
"This is level one," Seria called over the noise. "They only take five hits."
And sure enough, when Trunks managed five solid blows on a soldier, it disappeared with a weird sucking sound, and one of the other soldiers rushed forward.
Seria seemed adept at this game, whirling around the room elegantly, her small fists shooting out with impressive accuracy.
Within ten minutes the two of them had cleared the room, barely out of breath but both laughing.
"It helps me focus," Seria said, tucking her unruly dark hair behind her ears. "It's easy to get lost up here." She tapped her temple and twisted her mouth into a wry smile. "Focusing like this helps me remember that I'm not the people in my head."
"They talk to you?" Trunks asked, taken aback.
"No, but… they are always there. You know?"
Trunks stared at her blankly. No, he had no idea about having people in her head.
Seria laughed at his expression. "It's okay. Did you want to increase the level and try again?"
"Yes!" Trunks said, a little too eager to change the subject, but the game was fun.
"I could take us to level ten. It's what I'm up to so far…" Seria grinned at him, flashing her teeth. "If you think you can handle it."
Trunks smirked back at her and dropped into a fighting stance. "Bring it on."
"We've got four defence ships in orbit, and the city is armed with ki cannons, but invaders have chipped away at our security systems." Ara brought up the city plans on the holographic screen in front of them. "I'm afraid next time we might not be so lucky."
Vegeta stepped forward into the control space and used his hands to zoom in and inspect the diagrams projected in front of him. It had been years since he'd used this technology and he couldn't help but wonder how Bulma would react if she saw it. She'd probably already be pulling it apart to figure out how it worked.
He zoomed back out to look at the orbital defences. When he mentally recalled what it had looked like last time, and the recommendations he'd made, he frowned. "I see the embassy ignored my advice to reposition defensively instead of offensively."
Ara scowled at that. "Yes. They were not convinced of your intentions."
"Even after I saved this miserable planet from its invaders?" Vegeta clicked his tongue in irritation. "And there were five ships last time I was here. I told them to get more, not less."
"We were attacked in the last solstice," Ara said. She stepped next to him and took the controls, swiping back to a historical plan before zooming into the ship in question with a wide sweep of her hands, then pointing at a section of the hull. "They managed to disable the ship's shields using a plasma ray that penetrated here." She glanced up at Vegeta through her pale lashes. "We lost fifteen hundred that day."
Vegeta pressed his lips together and kept scanning through the records. Their weapon systems could do with dramatic improvements. If Bulma were here she probably would have redesigned them from the ground up. He didn't have the knowledge, or the time, to do that, but there were a few things he could do to assist. Rearrange the positioning, create the ability to counter attack…
"I saw what happens to this place in your memories," Ara said, placing a hand on Vegeta's shoulder and making him tense. "In the future, you made a trip into space and stopped by Fardarna."
"Only to discover that this planet was destroyed." He stepped back, forcing Ara to drop her hand. "I don't know when it happened so I can't give you a date to prepare for."
Ara gave him a small smile, and he knew she'd understood what had gone unspoken. He stopped here in this time to try to prevent it.
"You are a good friend, Vegeta."
"That is not what Raditz believed in the end," Vegeta replied, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice as he recalled the devastation on Raditz's face when Vegeta had reported Ara's death. Raditz's grief had quickly turned to fury and suspicion of Vegeta's role in her demise and things had never been the same between the two Saiyans after that.
"I know I didn't believe it at the time, but you did the right thing, not telling him." Ara sank into a chair beside the desk with the hologram projector and drummed her fingers on it. "That man couldn't lie, and even if he'd managed he'd have wanted to join me and his disappearance would have drawn too much attention."
Vegeta turned away, surprised at her admission, which had been the biggest source of contention between them, but unwilling to deal with any more emotional crap. He'd been dealing with enough of that lately.
"I've got some ideas for improvements," he said abruptly, switching back to the diagrams of the current defence set up. "I'll write them up and help you present them to the embassy. Maybe they will listen to me this time."
"Thank you," Ara said, and although Vegeta refused to look at her, he could feel her pale eyes boring into the back of his head.
Vegeta stood at the standing dinner table beside the small kitchen, watching Ara pull food out of a laser-heated oven and serve it onto a large tray. It was some kind of meat, sliced to be eaten without cutlery. On the table was a large pile of knobbly bread that Vegeta recognised and knew had a sweet, syrupy taste.
He'd capsulised their refuelled ship to free up the dock and made the decision to stay on the planet longer than intended, both because Fardarna's defence system needed far more work than he'd realised and because he didn't think trapping him and Trunks together on a ship for a couple of months would do them any good at this point.
Trunks had been quiet over the last couple of days as Vegeta and Ara worked on new defence plans. Normally Trunks chatted away non-stop, but now he rarely said a word, and went to bed early, obviously avoiding his father. Vegeta didn't push it. Trunks was entitled to ignore him for the rest of his life if he so wished, and Vegeta knew that forcing the matter wouldn't help.
Only Seria, oddly enough, had managed to get Trunks to emerge from his bedroom. Vegeta had kept a close watch on his son's ki, which had been too close to Seria's since she'd gone to 'apologise' for his liking, but there hadn't been any dramatic spikes in ki, so Vegeta knew the girl hadn't broken her word not to touch Trunks again.
Instead, they'd been playing a game for the past couple of days, and hearing Trunks' whoops of joy had been enough to let the two of them remain unsupervised. If it meant Trunks was happy, and not dwelling on the things he'd seen, Vegeta would let Trunks process in his own time, and focus on what he'd come to do on this damn planet in the first place.
"Seria, Trunks!" Ara called out as she poured fruit juice into glasses. "Come eat."
The two came barrelling in, racing each other through the doorway to the point where they actually got stuck in it for a moment, and tumbled to the floor as they pushed their way out.
With his face flushed, and lips curled into a genuine smile, Trunks looked like the happy boy he'd been before… before Bulma died. Before he'd had to grow up at too young an age. Trunks met Vegeta's gaze and his smile faded slightly, but he didn't look pained as he had every other time he'd cast eyes on him.
"What is it?" Trunks asked Ara, grabbing a handful of bread and meat and shoving both into his mouth at the same time. "S' delicious."
"Carabound meat." Ara threw Vegeta a quick grin and raised her eyebrows. Clearly, she'd noticed the change in the boy too. "And the bread is made from a few ground vegetables and a sweetener."
"A carabound is a five-legged animal,' Seria said between mouthfuls. "It's rather pretty to look at."
"Five legs?" Trunks paused in his eating to stare at the meat as if it would give him all the answers. "Earth creatures usually only have two or four." He glanced at Vegeta suddenly and grinned. "Or none."
Vegeta shuddered, knowing exactly which revolting creature Trunks was referring to, and Trunks laughed, only to cut off suddenly and purse his lips together. The boy looked away quickly and went quiet again, leaving a sick feeling in the pit of Vegeta's stomach.
It's only been a few of days, he reminded himself as he tore a furious chunk out of his own slice of meat. A pity patience wasn't a virtue of his.
He'd actually forgotten, for a moment.
Trunks had forgotten everything he'd seen about his father's past, and only seen the father he'd always known. The father who's cooked him meals out of scraps every night, going hungry so Trunks could eat. The father who picked up old movies on excursions out for time machine parts, then watched them with Trunks while delivering commentary about how awful the special effects were. His papa, who despite not having any knowledge of such things, spent two and half years ignoring his natural instincts to fight and instead spent his time piecing a time machine together from plans so he could keep his son safe.
Trunks stared at the bread in his hand then took a slow bite of it. He hadn't forgiven his papa, he realised, because there was nothing to forgive.
He peeked at his father to see the man scowling at his food. Trunks opened his mouth, wanting to say something, anything to let his father know that it was okay. Nothing came out. Not knowing what to say, Trunks frowned and continued to eat his food without really tasting it.
"I bought iced egg," Ara said, breaking the awkward silence cheerily.
Trunks glanced up to see that everyone had finished eating. Ara went into the kitchen then brought out a large metal bucket and some bowls.
"Your father loves this stuff," Ara said, serving a white, lumpy substance into each of the bowls.
Trunks wrinkled his nose. It didn't look particularly appealing. "What's so good about it?" He looked at his father for the answer and Vegeta froze for a moment, his eyes wide.
"It's hard to explain," Vegeta said. "Just… give it a chance."
Trunks stared back at his father, wondering if he was talking about more than this dessert, and gave him a slow nod.
Ara placed a bowl and something similar to a spoon, but wooden and even more curved, in front of him. Trunks picked up the spoon and scooped some of the food onto it. The iced egg had both crunchy and soft parts, despite appearing all soft to look at.
When Trunks placed some in his mouth, he let it sit on his tongue as it fizzed slightly, and the coldness swept through his mouth. It was sweet, with a light fruity taste that he couldn't place. A little like a cross between ice cream and meringue in texture, he realised, thinking back to the treats his grandmother had made him.
"Good, right?" Seria asked, licking her spoon.
"Yeah." Trunks glanced at his father. "It's good."
Vegeta furrowed his eyebrows, looking at his bowl then back up at him. "Trunks," he started to say. "I-"
A rumble, followed by a deafening boom then a cacophony of screams and sirens outside cut him off. The entire apartment shook with the force of the sound, the table trembling before them.
When the shaking stopped down, everyone ran to the large window to look out. It was chaos. Across the city, buildings had been downed, and in the sky were three black ships that looked a little like warships, with large glowing cannons.
"How the fuck did they break through the shields?" Vegeta yelled, running across the room to grab some sheets of paper.
"That should have been impossible!" Ara snatched her jacket off a hook by the door and shrugged it on. "Go to the basement," she commanded Seria and Trunks. "Don't go outside."
"Where are you going?" Trunks asked, grabbing his father's arm as he tried to rush past him. "I can help!"
"We are under attack," Vegeta replied. "Looks like ex-WTO ships. Keep Seria safe. Let me handle this."
"But I can-"
"Trunks!" Vegeta placed his hand on Trunks' shoulder. "Your job is to stay safe, and to keep Seria safe too."
"I can look after myself," Seria said sulkily.
"We know," Ara said gently. "Look out for each other."
Vegeta lifted his hand and ran it over his face. "But please, both of you do as we say for once?" Then he left without waiting for an answer, disappearing with Ara behind closed doors. Trunks looked out the window again to see his father and Ara flying through the frantic crowds, heading straight for the destruction.
"Are we really going to wait here?" Seria asked, clenching her fists with a scowl.
Trunks stared outside, feeling the pulses of ki dropping off as lives began to perish. "Of course not."
Thanks for your patience in waiting for this chapter. I'm back from holiday now, and feeling refreshed, which means I will now be getting back into my regular writing routine. No present BV again but I'm hoping for them in the next chapter.