Hey guys! So now you've experienced it firsthand: lack of update. No, it was not writer's block or too much homework. It was LAZINESS! Be prepared for a lot of it in the future!
Alrighty then, first off I'd like to thank my reviewers. You've been great! Shella, I am very flattered. I'm a bigbig fan of your fics! And everyone, sorry about the cliffie… I know those things suck… I keep forgetting that you guys on the other end of the internet don't know what's going to happen next…
What am I waiting for? Did you want an update or did you want an update?
I don't own DBZ!
What Are You Waiting For? Chapter four"Mom! DAD!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. I looked down at Trunk's limp body in my arms. "Open the door!" I half sobbed.
I barged past my surprised dad and headed for the couch to lay Trunks down. "Trunks!" I choked. "Dad! I... I dunno what happened… I – I, he… Trunks just collapsed and I have no idea what's wrong and maybe he's sick and I tried to wake him up and- and-"
My head was a frantic mess. What was wrong with Trunks? How could he get this sick? Was it my fault to have let him come outside with me? Or maybe I had injured him sparring, or maybe- maybe he was comatose, or, or-
My dad quickly shut the door and joined me. "He's breathing," he said. A little relief pushed its way through the turbulent sea of panic.
"But it doesn't look good," he continued. I noticed that Trunks' breath was shallow and fast, and he periodically held his breath and gasped. "He looks as if he's in pain," noted my dad further.
"What… what do we do?" I asked.
He hesitated.
"We're going to Capsule Corp," he replied. I gently lifted Trunks to my chest again. Dad grasped my shaking wrist in one hand and with the other put his two fingers to his forehead. He concentrated.
And then he lowered his hand. What? We hadn't gone anywhere. He released his hand from my wrist.
"Dad?" I asked.
"Unless…" he said, looking thoughtful. Then his expression turned troubled. He stood and made his way to his room. I heard the sounds of rummaging and he came back clutching a small bottle. I didn't recognize it. He put it in his pocket and we resumed our previous position. I bit down hard on my lip. You'd better be okay, Trunks.
Dad moved his fingers to his forehead, and in an instant we were at Capsule Corp.
"BULMA!" yelled Dad to an empty living room. "Bulma, we have an emergency!" I heard footsteps ascending stairs and a door swing open. Bulma entered the room, wearing a lab coat and holding a small pocketknife with little tools in one hand, and in the other hand a tiny device- a project she must have been working on.
"Goku? Goten! What-" she stopped suddenly.
"It's Trunks," I managed. My voice was squeaky and almost inaudible. I don't think she even heard it.
"Trunks!" She exclaimed. "What happened? I though he was in bed!"
"Goten?" asked my dad.
"He… went sparring with me."
I looked around for a place to set Trunks down. I transferred him from my arms to a big off-white couch.
"He said he was feeling better. I didn't know he was this sick… maybe I just hurt him sparring or something," I finished. I inhaled sharply, repeatedly, and in a moment I was crying. Tears blurred my vision.
Bulma and dad began to examine Trunks. Meanwhile I tried to regain control of my sobbing. Why was I even crying at all? It's so unlike me… I'm fifteen, and Trunks getting sick was nothing compared to some of the other ordeals in my life. And I was pretty certain it wasn't my fault. It was just an embarrassing overreaction for me to burst out into tears like that. Maybe it was all from the stress of almost telling Trunks how I felt. I took a deep breath and wiped my eyes with my hand.
"… think it could be?" Bulma was saying.
"I know it seems unlikely," said dad, "but he's showing a lot of the same symptoms."
"But they're awfully general symptoms, Goku. It could be anything."
"But you say he's been sick for a week? It could very well be the heart virus. And sparring with Goten made it worse, didn't it?" He turned to me. "He didn't go super-saiyajin, did he, Goten?"
"What heart virus, dad?'
"Later, Goten. Did Trunks go super-saiyajin?"
"Uh-huh, but only for a few minutes, and then he got really tired and we stopped sparring," I said. Dad spoke to Bulma again.
"It's just like when I had the heart virus," he said. Bulma took a deep breath. She looked panicked.
"We'll have to run some tests…"
Dad reached into his pocket.
"I brought the medicine from the future, just in case," he said. He scratched his head. "There's only one pill left, though. Maybe we should give it to him, and if he gets a little better… well I dunno, do you think the medicine's been invented in our time, yet?" He twisted the cap to open the bottle.
"Goku!" yelped Bulma and snatched it away. "Goku, I think I would know if there had been any sort of breakthrough cure for anything in the past few years, and there isn't any, so we can't give him the pill, because we'll need it to synthesize more. If it's the heart disease at all, which is highly unlikely! It could just be a bad flu!" She shoved her pocket sized tools into her pocket and examined the bottle.
"When was the last time Trunks ever got sick?" said a voice. We turned to see Vegeta, standing next to the couch on which Trunks lay. I don't think even one of us had noticed him come in. Bulma frowned.
"When was the last time any saiyajin got sick?" he demanded. "Not since Kakarott had that virus. Your human flu could not take Trunks out, not like this," he finished,
Several seconds of silence followed. I was so incredibly confused. Trunks was sick with- might be sick with- a virus that almost killed my father?
Suddenly Trunks coughed and gasped.
"Trunks!" we all almost shouted, and we were on him in an instant.
"How are you feeling?"
"Can you hear me?"
"Are you awake?"
"Does it hurt right here?"
His breath caught in his throat over and over again as he tried to wake up completely and take in his situation. His eyes fell on me.
"Go… ten…" he said, and closed his eyes again. Fear flooded through me as I realized those might have been his last moments awake. Ever.
The noise faded as we realized that Trunks could not be woken. I sat down on the coffee table by the couch rested my chin in my palm.
It was Bulma who spoke next. She held up both hands in front of her. In one hand she held the medicine.
"I'm going to get a team of people together to make some more of this stuff."
In the other hand she held the little device she'd been working on. She gripped it tighter.
"Then, I need to make a very important phone call."
