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Is it any wonder why I'm scared,
If I was a little younger would I care,
Feeling like the walls are growing stronger,
I don't know if this cage can hold me any longer

He was…detached. A few safe miles out of town, he watched himself from within as his body took out withheld frustrations on the surrounding scenery. He pushed to gain control, an invisible wall keeping him from getting out, from altering a single movement or action. The part of his consciousness that was him pushed the wall, and felt it give, a whirling mass of fury and grief pouring into him from the hole he had inadvertently created.

He felt trapped, a horrible feeling of being nothing but a few thoughts floating about in a body that did not submit to him. He knew inside he was screaming, and yet the outside was affected not at all. He watched his own hands demolishing the forest, causing great gaping holes to form in the dry ground. Animals fled from his wrath, and those not fast enough were ruthlessly slaughtered, dying bloody deaths and spattering blood on his face and hair, staining his clothes.

You never dreamed you'd have to live your life so guarded,
Cause they'll find a way to make you feel discarded

His confined mind mourned the loss of life, screaming signals at his body to stop. To stop destroying without reason. Trunks' lean form paused for a moment, allowing silence to fall on the new clearing. His head snapped towards a rustle, a tiny whimper from behind bushes to his left. Turning slowly, he stalked closer to the shrub, and thrust a hand within, grasping the shirt of a tiny boy. The child screeched, writhing and clawing at his hand, tears leaking down his dirt-encrusted cheeks.

I'm not afraid of tomorrow,
I'm only scared of myself

Abruptly there was another standing behind the child, and one behind Trunks as well. His mind sighed in relief even as his mouth turned into a snarl, a near-inaudible growl emanating from his throat. Two arms came under his own and hooked behind his neck before he could react, and another pair of arms grasped the boy and pulled him away, his shirt tearing off in Trunks unyielding grip.

"Get out of here," Goten murmured to the boy, placing him none-too gently on the ground and giving him a soft shove towards the woods. Vegeta tightened his hold on his son's twisting form, motioning with his head for Goten to come closer.

There was profound pity and sadness in the other halfling's eyes, eyes that were taking in his own future. He watched his best friend writhe about, kicking at his own father for release after nearly killing a small child. No, this was not his best friend. Trunks was within, he knew, buried inside and gasping for freedom.

"Hit him," Vegeta grunted impatiently, and Goten moved forward quickly, fist lashing out to connect with the other's jaw, a jarring blow that turned his head to the side, lavender hair flinging in his eyes.

Feels like my insides are on fire,

And I'm looking through the eyes of someone else

Immense pain built within, and his muscles totally relaxed, trying to relieve the burning in his nervous system. He gasped for air, as though he had been holding in his breath, and his struggles ceased, signaling to Vegeta that he was fine again. The support of his father's arms disappeared, and Trunks fell forward to hands and knees to await the end to the pain. He drew in a shuddering breath, fingers clawing uselessly in the dirt.

"Please--end it--it's never, hurt like this before—it--" Trunks gasped out, tears of pain making their way unbidden down his face and transforming into drops of mud beneath him. His hands moved from the dirt to clutching his stomach as a stabbing sensation made itself known in his gut. He clenched his jaw, keeping a cry within his throat, his ears deaf to the low moan that he emitted. Goten turned away, unable to bear the sight.

Vegeta felt utterly useless, the feeling gnawing at his insides. Moving silently, he knelt beside Trunks' huddled form, calmly stroking his back as he had observed his wife do numerous times over the years. A small twitching of the muscles in his son's back was the only sign that Trunks even knew his father was there.

I never thought they'd want me to go even faster,
Never thought I took my foot off the gas,

The younger man shuddered, seeming to draw in on himself. Vegeta cast his eyes up to Goten, catching the youths gaze. "Go tell Bulma to wait for us in the medical bay, then take Bra someplace else, keep her busy," he grated, then turned his attention back to his son, who groaned again. Gathering Trunks into his arms, he took off only moments after Goten's quick departure, following as quickly as possible without causing more injury to his son. A worried frown creased his face as the youth seemed to be unconscious, his breathing heavy but shallow. Discomfort etched it's way onto his face as he felt Trunks' temperature slowly rising, beads of sweat forming on his skin.

It seemed an eternity, but the beige domes of Capsule Corporation came into sight where Vegeta landed hastily outside the one which he knew housed the medical bay. Feeling about for various evergy signatures as he jogged inside, he took note of Bulma already within, along with Kessho. Pristine white hallways and swift but silent doors took him quickly to his wife. His eyes were only for the medical bed in the middle of the room, where he smoothly deposited Trunks and backed away, quashing his worry.

Everybody loves to be in on the pressure,
But I know they're all waiting for the crash

The blue-haired woman closed in quickly, checking her son's pulse and breathing, giving swift orders to a young nurse before rounding on her husband with questions.

"What happened?"

"I don't know, after he came back to himself he fell down, and said that it hurt. That it had never hurt like this before. He asked--asked me to kill him, to take away the pain." Her eyes were wide with shock, but she refused to let her surprise slow her actions.

Blue eyes, bloodshot and glazed with pain opened to stare at the ceiling, something in his mind whispered that this was not outside, that he had been moved. Momentarily his thoughts were consumed with the difficult task of breathing, of keeping the flow of air to his lungs constant. Fierce pain bubbled up with each intake, and he resisted the urge to hold his breath. He felt as though his stomach was being tied into a knot and his muscles were leaking through his skin. He felt touches against his skin, each one carrying weight near that of a blow. Using muscles that resisted his control, he moved his head to look around the room, trying mightily to ignore the pain that shot through his neck and skull.

His father was there, and his mother rushed about, her lips moving in unheard words, mute over the blood pounding in his ears. A blonde woman--Kessho, rushed to his side, kneeling until her face was level with his. Her mouth moved also, and he longed to hear. He knew that somehow, perhaps, her words would bring comfort, yet he couldn't make out a sound. Her hand moved towards his face, his forehead, stroking sweaty hair from his skin. She carressed his cheek, and he closed his eyes, soothed by the gentility of her touches, by physical contact that didn't hurt.

You never dreamed you'd have to live your life so guarded,
Cause they'll find a way to make you feel discarded,

He felt a prickle of sensation in his arm, the one which seemed eternally bruised. He moved to stare as his mother withdrew the needle, dabbing at the drop of blood that came from the tiny wound. Some chemical, morphine he assumed, flowed through his system, and he heaved a sigh of relief as the pain was dulled to a throbbing ache over a few minutes time. His mouth worked, bringing moisture back to the orifice and allowing him to speak.

"Kessho," he managed, and she choked back a sob, softly burying her face in the crook of his neck. Hot tears flowed over his skin, and he carefully reached to rub her back. He put the pain from his mind and focused on those surrounding him. The worried faces of his parents confronted him, and he closed his eyes, immensely weary. Having asked if it was alright, Kessho climbed up next to him on the bed, softly stroking his chest and face, whispering calming words that lulled him to sleep.

Things have changed you've become a complication,
Can't make it through another days humiliation

He wasn't sure how long it had been, but it had been long enough. The pain had returned with a vengeance, as though making up for time lost to the morphine. His eyes snapped open as soon as consciousness returned, and his back arched as he writhed in agony. Kessho awoke with a start, clinging to the bed for a hold as she was nearly thrown to the floor. She moved away quickly, watching helplessly as Trunks struggled.

Bulma was quick to take action, motioning for Vegeta to hold Trunks still as she administered a sedative. It took effect almost immediately, his struggling form slowing until his eyes closed and he fell into unconsciousness.

With effort Kessho tore her eyes away from Trunks' prone form. "What's happening to him?" She murmured, and Bulma heard, heaving a heavy sigh before answering.

"When we first found out about his condition, I tried everything to rid him of it." She pulled up his shirt sleeve, exposing a dark bruise. "It's from my 'experiments', it's been there for years. I tried something involving self control, hoping that he'd be able to control what was happening when it happened. But I believe it just makes him aware of it. Gohan never had any recollection of his actions, but Trunks does. And I think that he struggles so hard to stop himself that his mind can't take it. And since there are no nerves in the brain, it spreads the pain elsewhere, I don't know what to do about it."

She sat heavily in a chair and put her face into her hands, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Another wave of guilt and shame washed through her, she hadn't helped him at all. Only caused her child more pain. She didn't acknowledge the firm hand on her back, rubbing small circles. Vegeta stroked her hair, lifting her face with a hand under her chin. She sniffled, meeting his eyes only momentarily before bringing her head to his shoulder, allowing his arms to encircle her in comfort.

Hours passed slowly, with Trunks remaining unconscious, though he stirred occasionally. Bra drifted in and out, and Goten eventually went home, giving the excuse that his mother would be worried.

+\+\

Light was the first thing I noticed, as consciousness was slowly regained. Light, and a lack of pain. Maybe it was over. Maybe I was dead…that wouldn't be too bad. I knew it would come to this anyhow.

My eyes opened slowly. I must not be dead, unless I took Kessho with me. She's peering worriedly into my face, eyes puffy and red. Giving her a small nod, her worry changes to relief, she moves back a little as I sit up. My head reacts violently, a harsh throbbing making itself known within my skull. The world spins momentarily, and had I not been sitting down I would have fallen. Two sofas have been moved into the med bay, making me wonder how long we'd been here. Mom and Dad are curled up on one, my father snoring quietly with mom drooling on his shirt. He'll be thirlled by that when he wakes up. Bra is stretched out on the other couch, also drooling. Without thought I wipe at my own chin, finding it blessedly dry. Must be a woman thing. Thank heavens it's not a family thing. But maybe,I wonder if I snore…

Kessho smiles softly at my parents. "You sound just like your father when you sleep." Damn…

"Oh?" I reply, not entirely interested. Who in their right mind wants to hear about their bad sleeping habits? I cringe inwardly at my own phrasing, who in their right mind. Oh well. A rush of anger and bitterness assaults my subconscious. No, no, not now! My mental voice is wasehd away in the torrent of hate and anguish that floods my mind.

A hand that I do not control whips out, closing around Kessho's mouth to silence her. She moans loudly as she can, but it cannot be heard over the hum of machinery in the room. Dad doesn't even twitch. No, no no. It can't happen like this. Not now, not Kessho. I beat uselessly at the invisible shield keeping me from controlling my own actions. Oh gods! Dad, please wake up. Please, please--but I can't even get a telepathic message out.

Kessho groans more frantically, beating harmlessly at my arm, side, leg, anything within reach. I turn her slowly around, pushing her roughly back onto the bed without releasing my hold on her mouth. One hand snakes up her shirt to caress her stomach. My head lowers to lavish rough kisses on her neck. She squirms, tears running from her eyes.

It can't be like this. No. Focusing my mental energy as though it were ki, I dig into that wall, pouring all of my desperation into it, praying to get through. It starts to give, and those raging emotions pour into my mind. I push harder, feeling somehow a crack form, and another, until I'm through. All movement of my body stops, and I pull violently away. Kessho releases a gasping sob, one hand covering her mouth. I can feel the madness creeping in, on the verge of taking over again. I give her one desperate look, feeling my heart clench when she refuses to meet my eyes. "Vegeta," she calls hoarsely, waking my father with a start. Seeing my upright shaking form, he leaps to his feet, dislodging my mother. She snorts and wakes up in time to fall off the couch.

Utilizing a supreme effort of will, I quash the predator raging for freedom in my head, and try to still my bodies quaking. Returning to Kessho, I reach towards her, quashing tears when she pulls back slightly.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, "I'm so sorry." Nodding, she accepts my embrace, pulling me into her as thightly as she can. "I love you, and I love her," I lay my hand softly on her belly. "Please tell her?" Nodding vehemently, our lips meet in a frenzied kiss. Gods, how I'll miss her, miss this. There will never be one to replace her, I know. I pull away, attempting to dislodge her from me. "No, no! Trunks, don't--" she pleads quietly. Placing one last kiss on her forehead, I move away, turning to my little sister, who is now awake also.

+\+\

Trunks hoisted Bra into his arms. She looked deeply into his eyes, glistening blue staring with sad understanding into her brother's equally sad eyes.

"When the day comes, you take the path you know is right, huh? I know you're strong like that, Bra-chan. Live. I love you," he hugged her close, feeling her small form shake from sobs. "Shhh," he rubbed her back for a moment, and kissed the top of her head. Setting her gently on the floor, she moved to cling to their father's leg. Vegeta laid a hand on her head and watched silently as his son edged towards Bulma, who had caught the mood, and knew more or less what her son was doing. And she wasn't happy about it.

Trunks moved to hug her also, and she stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"I don't think so, bud. I know what you're up to, and I won't allow it." Her harsh, no nonsense façade was failing, however, and she knew it. Tears gleamed unshed in her blue eyes, an untold anguish from blaming herself for to many things. Trunks again attempted to hug her.

"Please don't make it harder than it is, mom. You know I wouldn't--leave, if it wasn't needed. I refuse to stand by and watch myself hurt you guys." He pulled back from her, and now she was crying also.

Exchanging a final hug with his father, Trunks was quick to thank him, thank him for all he had done, for being a good father. He knew of the older mans' feelings of inadequacy he'd always seemed to have concerning his children.

Is it any wonder why the answer keeps me petrified ,
Is it any wonder why I'm scared...

Casting a pained smile over his shoulder, he quickly left the house before his determination failed him. He sprung into the air, cringing when he heard the door open again behind him.

"Oh god, Trunks, my boy! My baby boy!" Bulma cried hysterically, collapsing into Vegeta's arms a sobbing heap. She watched as he disappeared from sight, her cries only growing more desperate and broken.

"My baby, my Trunks," she murmured against Vegeta's chest. Vegeta looked up as Kessho came up beside them, her lavender gaze locking with his. For a moment her eyes flared golden, the intensity of the light almost too much for him to keep his eyes open through, and then faded again to purple, and his face fell. Somehow her eyes mirrored the actions of Trunks ki, transforming to the gold of Super Saiyan before dimming. He searched futilely for his son's energy signature…knowing there would be none.

He was gone.

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