Disclaimer- I don't own DBZ

A/N- I'd like to thank everyone that's reviewed this story, it's hard to write but the reviews make it worth it. This is the final chapter of Untitled Vignette, but I'm gonna make a sequel, something suitably happy and adventurous to get off this depressing trail…

Games

Games, that's what this was to them. It made Gohan sick to the very core of his being; it was anathema to every fiber of his soul. There were no words, are no words to describe things like them. Things that regarded living breathing souls as objects, as numbers on a page. To the androids, people were toys, things to use, objects, not truly existing.

In a way the androids were fanatics, but they were fanatics only in their absolute narcissism. Only in the fact they wished to worship themselves. They were terrorists beyond terror; they dominated and ruled with utter anarchy. Death and fear were their wake. It made Gohan sick.

"Gohan, Trunks, dinner time!" Bulma yelled. Trunks jumped up and ran inside. Gohan followed, his pace sedate, his steps slow. When they reached inside Trunks inhaled his food. He was starving. Gohan wondered if he would ever feel hungry again. He ate slowly, mechanically. He ate until he could tell he was stuffed. He ate for one purpose and one purpose alone, to fuel his body.

He needed to kill the Androids; everything else was secondary to that. He noticed Bulma looking at him and he forced a smile onto his face, following well creased lines of sorrow and making him look almost young again. Bulma sighed in relief internally, the last thing they needed was Gohan losing himself, he and Trunks were their only hopes.

Sadly, Gohan had already lost.

Gohan stared out at the night sky, just staring blankly. He sighed and his head sank forward only to be cradled in his hands. Those hands… Such power and yet all of it impotent, worthless. Vegeta was dead, his father was dead, his mother… Gohan trembled as he remembered those closest to him, his father, his mother, Piccolo, Vegeta, Krillin, everyone…

He was so alone… But Trunks and Bulma were there; indeed they were the only reason he hadn't gone off to suicide and kill the androids. His life held no worth for him, no meaning other than revenge.

They had struck again, another city left in ruins, only a few were still left, populated by people who still thought they could hold out against the monsters. They would die in time.

Gohan felt each death keenly, felt each soul that was painfully ripped from this once beautiful planet. His eyes shuddered with anguish as he looked up once again to the stars.

Father, why father? Suddenly a hand was on his shoulder, Trunks… He looked up into the boy's eyes, full to the brim with uncompromising love. To Trunks he was a father, a brother and most of all a friend.

The boy sat down next to him and leaned his head against Gohan's shoulder. Gohan smiled down at the boy, his apprentice, his friend, a son and a brother in so many ways… Anger suddenly swarmed through Gohan's body, damn those androids for making this hell for Trunks.

"Gohan?" A soft voice, a quiet voice. Young and still untouched by the greatest part of this tragic hell. Trunks still was innocent, despite the death and terror he was surrounded with. Gohan knew it wouldn't stay that way.

"Yes Trunks?" A pause, silence, so soft and yet more powerful than words could ever be.

"What was it like, before the androids?" Such a soft question, but full of so much pain. Gohan felt for his core, his ki that was his soul, that which sustained him, and found his memories.

"Kami Trunks, it was beautiful…" Gohan trailed off, his pain surfacing for a brief moment, dark despair wracking his thoughts. He sensed Trunks beside him stiffen.

"It's ok, we don't need to talk about it." The boy said hurriedly, his cerulean eyes shining with concern. Gohan was captivated by Trunks's eyes for a brief second, he was sure there wasn't a purer blue anywhere.

"No, you should know, yes you should know…" Gohan trailed off and then began as far back as he knew.

"It all started one day when your mother, she was much younger, met my father…" And Gohan began, and told the long story of the dragon ball adventures, and then the tale of Radditz and Namek. By the time he ended Trunks's glacial eyes were wide.

"And then- father died of a heart disease, we don't know from where. Soon afterwards, the androids appeared. It was- horrible." Gohan whispered, and didn't tell Trunks of what Vegeta experienced, of what his friends and family had gone through. The boy knew enough pain, he didn't need more.

Suddenly Gohan's clarity returned to him, and he felt his pain ease out. The retelling of the story, it had let something in him free. He looked down as Trunks slowly slumped into Gohan's lap. The one-armed man gently cradled Trunks in his arm and stood up with him. It was bedtime for him.

Gohan gently laid Trunks out on his bed and marveled at the miracle of youth. His own body was young but his eyes spoke a different story, one full of more pain and age than anyone should ever know. He looked at Trunks and suddenly saw that the boy held more strength than he ever would. Yes he Gohan could hold more power than Trunks but in time Trunks would surpass him. He held the drive where Gohan held only despair in his heart.

But Trunks wouldn't wait; he could sense the restraint in the boy fraying. It would only be a matter of time before Trunks sought to confront the androids with him. And he knew that Trunks would die if that happened. They'd had far too many close calls already, it was time. Gohan had pushed the boy as far as he could without going SSJ. He needed a catalyst, and Gohan was so very tired…

He gently leaned down placed a kiss on Trunks's head, his friend, his student, his brother, his son… He stood up and then gently closed the door. Down the hall the light was on, Bulma was working- she stepped out into the hallway.

"Gohan, it's late, you should be in bed." She said softly, and Gohan looked at her with those eyes of his and she knew…

"No, please Gohan, there's another way- you know there is." Bulma implored but Gohan merely shook his head.

"No Bulma, I am so sorry but no. Continue with the time machine and support your son, he is easily strong enough to do whatever he must. Now please go to sleep." He said all this and then stiffened as Bulma threw herself into his chest and embraced him.

"Oh Gohan…" She choked on her tears and clutched him to her.

"Hush, it will all be better soon Bulma." He whispered to her. She sniffled and nodded and looked at him.

"If the time machine works like it's supposed to, I'll be seeing you again in a while." She said and Gohan looked at her. Took in her face, her smell, her hair and her eyes. His body was calm, his face gentle but his eyes were empty.

"Bulma, you have been a mother to me, I love you with all my heart, and I will see you again someday. Tell Trunks he meant the world to me, but don't tell him you knew." Bulma choked again and tried to smile.

"I- I can do that, but please Gohan…" She trailed off and Gohan shook his head.

"Neither of you can stop me, and to call Trunks out would make it very hard on him, you know that. It must be done Bulma." He said and suddenly she was sobbing and hitting him with her fists.

"Damn you Son Gohan why can't you live for us, it takes greater strength to live than to die, how dare you do this to us!" She cried and her tears cut a hole in Gohan's heart, and steeled his resolve.

"Bulma, it is time, I love both of you so much, now go to sleep." He said and suddenly Bulma was so very tired…

Gohan laid her gently into bed and covered her up. He ran gentle fingers down the side of her face and then stepped back.

"Good bye Bulma, maybe we will see each other again, someday." And Gohan stepped out of Capsule Corps, to go to his death, to make Trunks ascend, and to make him hold back until he was sure of victory.

And when death came, when that eerie black night descended on his eyes and the pain became a distant memory, Gohan was freed.

The end, of this story