Disclaimer: I found a penny! :)
Blurb: I dedicate this chapter to Lady Shinimegami, the author of my favorite DBZ fic "Yume Mi". Why? Because that plot was awesome, and I admire it. :P
Ages: (Both Trunks ages were changed 'cause I remembered GT took place 7 years after DBZ and not 10, gomen-nasai. That also changed everyone else's.)
Mirai Trunks: 32
Trunks: 32
Pan: (just turned) 21
Goten: 31
Bra: 21
Marron: 27
"Love The Merry Torture"
After Bulma's talk with Mirai Trunks she went out to the group of waiting and impatient warriors.
"So what's going on, Mom?" Trunks asked the moment Bulma entered the room.
She sighed. "Well, Trunks...that's the future Trunks that helped us out during the Cell Games."
"Yeah!" Goku piped. "He brought me some great medicine! He saved my life."
"Well, what's he doing here?" Pan asked, the confusion written on her petite face. She was sitting on the couch with the others. Vegeta, Piccolo, Goku, Bulma, and 18 were the only ones who stood.
Bulma crossed her arms. "My other self died. I wanted him to come back to the past. I guess he didn't want to, but Chi-Chi made him come."
"I dunno 'bout you, but I don't remember his time machine working like that before," Goku said, head cocked curiously to the side.
The genius shook her head. "He doesn't know what happened. He'll be fine though, with a few days of rest." Her blue eyes narrowed. "But! If he's anything like his father, he'll insist on getting up tomorrow."
Gohan smiled, remembering his youth with the future Trunks. "He is going to stay then?"
"Of course! I wouldn't let my son go back to that kind of world! Besides, the machine was completely destroyed."
"My Lady, you're b-back!" one of Aphelia's generals stammered out.
Her tail lazed around, twirling slowly in happiness. "Yes. I had a most pleasant ride, too. Get up monitors where I can watch these people." She tossed a notepad to the man.
Catching it easily, he looked down. "You have job, m'lady?"
"Quite. It should be much fun. Oh, it's so good to be back amongst the living..." She glanced toward the general, a wiry, short man, as he scanned the list. "I think you should be going. Yes, yes."
His mouth fell agape. Bowing quickly, he scurried off to do the demi-ice-jin's bidding.
Aphelia grinned, her dark lips contrasting with her ashen skin. "I had better get to work then..."
Everyone had opted on staying at Capsule Corp. until they could see Mirai Trunks up and about again. The veteran fighters remembered the days when he had been there, fighting bravely against Cell. All of them had been sad to see him go.
The next day, Pan was in Capsule Corporation's large kitchen, trying to get a snack since she had been sparring with her uncle. Contently munching on some shrimp, she sat at a large round table. As she ate, she heard footsteps slowly making their way toward the room she resided in. Raising an eyebrow, she watched the doorway, popping the tiny shrimp into her mouth every so often.
As a tall figure appeared, she said, "You shouldn't be up."
Mirai Trunks held his side as he came into the kitchen, plopping unceremoniously into the nearest chair. "I won't tell if you won't."
Pan eyed him strangely, noticing the beads of sweat on his brow. "You really shouldn't be up..."
Future Trunks looked at Pan, noticing for the first time her dark hair and eyes. "Gohan's daughter."
"Huh?" she mumbled, a shrimp hanging halfway out of her mouth.
He laughed at her antics. "You must be Gohan's daughter."
She swallowed the aforementioned crustacean. "Yeah. How'd you know?"
The demi-saiya-jin looked at her as though it were the simplest thing on Earth. "You look like him."
"Oh..." Pan trailed off as a screech emitted through the room. "...Hi, Bulma."
"You shouldn't be up!" Bulma scolded her future son. He could only sweatdrop since Bulma was on him immediately, dragging him up by his good arm. "You're just like your father! I can't believe you Trunks. I told you to stay in bed..." And so she raged. Mirai Trunks shook his head and allowed himself to be dragged back up the stairs to the room he was now confined to.
Pan just blinked. "Poor guy..."
Marron pulled a large cart of food behind her as she walked towards what was now Mirai Trunks' room. The poor guy didn't even get to eat anything before Bulma dragged him off to 'rest'. He's gotta be bored. she thought. Reaching her destination, she knocked lightly on the door.
"It's open," came the muffled reply.
Meekly, she opened the door. Marron hadn't ever spoken with Mirai Trunks before. It made her wonder if he would hate her, since her mother was one of the people who had taken away almost everything from him. "Hi. I, um, brought you something to eat..." she trailed off at the sight. Trunks lay on his back, arms crossed behind his head...shirtless. His eyes were fixed forward, staring at the ceiling. Bandages and scars wrapped around the tanned skin of his chest. It was a very nice sight, in deed. Marron shook her head. "Your mom asked me to."
His turned his head to face her and the food. "Thanks," Trunks muttered, eyeing the food hungrily. He mentally smacked himself for not eating Chi-Chi's lunch before he came back to the past. Marron giggled. "What?" Trunks asked in confusion.
She smiled brightly. "Sorry, it's just that you looked hilarious...the way you were looking at the food, I mean."
Wincing, Mirai sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his bed. "Blame my father." His own smile appeared.
"Okay," she giggled again. Making it easier on the time traveler, she pushed the cart to him. Deciding she had better let him eat in peace, she turned and began walking out the door.
"You're 18's daughter?" Mirai Trunks asked idly. She stopped and turned around.
"Uh, yeah...I am." Trunks just nodded. Letting her curiosity get the better of her, she asked, "How did you know?"
He smirked his father's smirk. "Well, I know 18's now married to Krillin and that they have a daughter. You look like them. Why does everyone want to know how I know who their parents are?" he mumbled the final part to himself.
Marron blushed in embarrassment. "Oh."
A week later, Mirai Trunks' wounds were nearly gone thanks to his ability to heal fast. Everyone was adjusting to him being around, and those who hadn't met him before were loving his presence. However, the present Trunks seemed to not be too pleased with the attention Mirai was getting from their father.
After the ever-famous space escapades, Trunks had been training more and spending less time in the office. He went to work daily of course, but he cut back on the hours and found that he didn't hate it as much when he wasn't such a...well, such a dork. That also meant that he was spending more time with his father during training. He cherished that time, like he had when he was a spoiled little kid.
But that stopped since his doppelganger appeared. Vegeta seemed to like the other Trunks much more than him. It was the power, maybe. His counterpart was much stronger than him. He had reached levels that the present Trunks used to dream about as a child. Vegeta loved testing Mirai's powers, much to Bulma's dismay. She claimed he should still be resting. Nevertheless, father and son showed off each other's strength. And Mirai Trunks loved it.
Maybe it was the fact that Mirai Trunks had proven himself to Vegeta. When he arrived, all the elder warriors could speak of was 'Trunks did this!' or 'That future Trunks did that!' It was appalling. But what got to him the most, he thought, was how everyone told of how Vegeta bravely went after Cell in a mad attack after the android had killed his future self, despite the fact that the Dragon Balls could bring him back. Present Trunks wondered if he had ever proven himself to his father, like Mirai had...
"Excuse me, Mr. Briefs, sir..." his secretary's voice brought him from his ruminating.
He shook his head, annoyed, trying to clear his mind. Shame it didn't work. "Yes?"
"It's 9:30, sir, so I am going to leave. Do you need anything before I go?" the woman asked, ignoring Trunks' curtness.
"No..." Trunks muttered, his mind still somewhere else. Wasn't he good enough for him? No, that was always the problem. Buu...that seemed to be the only time Vegeta seemed pleased with him. Bra was his princess. Not him, though...he was the nobody...and now he was outclassed by his own self.
"Um, alright then. Goodnight...sir..." her voice held a twinge of worry as she noticed her employer biting hard on his bottom lip while he stared intently at his wooden desk. She backed out and silently closed the door. Trunks didn't even know she was gone.
It was beginning to gnaw at him, slowly from the insides--the pain he felt was. A twinge of disgust with a pinch of fear clambered about inside his stomach. It seemed to grow, eating all of him in its wake. The demi-saiya-jin could almost see it...a darkness, blacker than a midnight sky without a moon and stars, moving slowly forward. It tentatively reached out with an almost claw-like appendage and ripped a tiny piece from Trunks Briefs. It would greedily gobble it up, and, with its brothers and sisters, would reach for more and more and more...like some kind of consuming beast...!
The metallic taste of blood brought him from his almost fevered thoughts. He released his wounded lip from his teeth's grasp, not caring that he was shaking from head to toe.
You're worthless to him...You don't mean a thing...You're a worthless nothing... the sing-song voice of a woman echoed merrily around the room, the caroled message bleak.
"What the...?" Trunks jumped up from his desk, swivel chair slamming against the beige wall. He looked around desperately for the source of the voice.
His blood flows through you...You are of his blood...Your pain as thick as blood...As thick as his own... the cheery voice continued.
Trunks spun around and met nothing. Violently he turned left, he turned right, but each time he only faced his empty office with the lights dimmed. Am...am I going crazy? he wondered, his sapphire eyes wide with confusion and fear.
Your pain is his pain...Blood of two is your own...It runs through both...Feel the pain, feel the pain...love the merry torture... The voice was relentless. The same lines began echoing in rounds, never stopping...a poorly conceived broken record, forever going at a maddening pace. It only sped up, as if it were on an old vinyl player with some demented soul with a malicious smirk speeding it up and up while it laughed mercilessly at Trunks' dilemma.
He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the palms of his hands to his head. His head shook as if would shake the noise elsewhere...he would try anything! All he wanted was for that damnable song to stop playing! But it only got louder. And it only got faster. Trunks fell to his knees, his elbows hitting the ground soon after. He writhed in the torture, still plugging his ears, trying desperately to end that fucking song! Louder, louder, louder it went...
Hot tears squeezed through his eyelids, the pain becoming nearly unbearable. He ground his teeth together, trying to hold out, but silently he prayed he would just pass out...end it with the sweet ebony. No such luck bestowed itself upon him and he cried out. It was a feral, low sound. The kind of sound an animal in torture makes before the creature higher on the food chain ended its life. "Just...make it...STOP!" he finally screamed out, through clenched teeth.
And so it did. Trunks removed his hands from his ears and picked himself up off the carpeted floor. He brushed off his suit, thankful for his sound-proof office, and he grinned. It was the grin of man on a mission. Glancing toward his desk, he ignored his work and strode over to the door. With a deadly calm, he opened it, scrubbing his face dry all the while, and he quietly exited his office, singing something softly to himself...
"I'm worthless to him...I don't mean a thing...I'm a worthless nothing...."
*********
Some parts of this chapter were just pure idle chatter of characters interacting. o.o What's Trunks gonna do now? Eep!
Kinda hurt that I got no reviews last chapter...oh well, write for the love. *knocks on monitor screen* Is anyone even there?