Hope is beauty
Personified
At her feet, the world:
Hypnotized.
~ Apocalyptica – 'Hope'

Hope and Despair

Time was ticking away. He could not help it, but every passing second strengthened his feeling of impending doom.

Future Trunks was standing on a hill, a bit apart from the others. The sky was crisp and clear as he stared into the distance. He knew it would be soon now – he did not have the exact time, but they would land in less than half an hour. So he was watching, and waiting.

The spring wind was whipping through his hair and clothes – on this height it was a lot colder, and he remembered that this spring wasn't all that warm anyhow. It hadn't been the first time, and it wasn't warm now, either.

It's just like way back when, when we were waiting for the Androids, Gohan broadcasted. His mental voice was tinged with both worry and excitement.

There are some parallels, agreed Piccolo.

Damn right there are, Trunks thought bitterly. He wished they would shut up. He felt wired and impatient – he just wanted to get this over with. Over the past three years, the wait had been killing him slowly. He had trained, he had gotten stronger and better, he had become a total master of telepathy (better than most of the others), and he had awaited and dreaded this day's coming. And now it was here.

They were all here. The saiya-jin Z-Senshi, powered up beyond any belief, were all stationed on this hill somewhere.

Bulma, Marron and Bra were in hiding with Piccolo and Dende. They were close by – acting as last a sort of backup.

Bulma had joked that she'd be their cheerleader, but actually had the silver armor with her as a last ditch effort. They were still not sure what one could do with the armor because it was still in an experimental state. They had not dared to use it for testing, because of the legends surrounding the metal.

Marron had wanted to fight, too. Her parents had eventually agreed that she could help out in the time of need – she could activate the Dragonballs, because Dende was with them. They weren't taking any chances.

Bra was with them, too. She was a stronger telepath than any of the fighters save Trunks (and maybe Goku or Vegeta), and so she acted as a sort of overseer of the battle. She would try to penetrate the mental shields of the Terror with relentless assault. It seemed wrong to use such a young and innocent child like such a weapon, Trunks had argued, but Gohan had given him a flat look and flatly commented that he had been fighting such wars since he had been four years old. He had managed, and so would she. And if they'd lose the war, they would all die anyway, he had added. Trunks had to agree on that matter. And Bra had not minded. She had wanted to fight, she had assured him. She had wanted to do something, to be useful. And she was not alone.

She and Piccolo would give their mental all to support them.

'Can't I come to the picnic?' Bra had asked, big blue eyes trying to persuade him.

'Next time, little one,' Trunks had assured her. 'Today it's going to be just Marron and me.'

'Is Marron your girlfriend?'

Trunks had laughed. 'No, we're just friends. She's too young, I think.'

'She's not! She's fourteen!'

'And I am eighteen. That's too old for her.'

Bra had wrinkled her nose. 'You're silly,' she had declared and left the room.

It had been the last time he had seen his little sister, until he woke up in another timeline.

No! Focus!

He couldn't be plagued by memories of that fateful day. Not now – he needed to remain sane today. He needed to be all there, in tiptop shape. His mind had to be a weapon as finely honed as his body was otherwise he would not stand a chance.

He needed to focus. He needed to focus. He needed to…

'Did you feel that?' they blurted out simultaneously with equally breathless voices. Marron, who had been behind the wheel of the capsule car, nearly crashed them into a nearby tree  when they felt the explosion of ki coming from behind them. She kicked on the brakes mercilessly, sprawling herself over the steering wheel.

Trunks felt dizzy because of the sudden jolt of adrenaline in his system. All that power, all of a sudden. 'This… Oh Dende,' he stuttered.

'Where does it come from?' asked Marron, looking over her shoulder.

'Capsule Corp!' they both realized at the same time.

Trunks did not waste any time. He threw himself out of the car. 'I'll fly back!' he yelled at her, taking off as quickly as he could. This was not good. Not good at all. This did not feel as a simple sparring match between Goku and Vegeta. This was way beyond it. Way beyond anything he had ever felt before.

The kiburst of Marron breaking into flight was drowned in the powerplay before him.

And as he hurried through the sky as fast as he could, he knew he was going to be too late.

And there it was.

The ship broke through the atmosphere. It seemed to burn up for a moment, but then shot down to the earth below.

"There they are," he sighed.

Let's go and show those silver twerps what we're made of, Vegeta proposed. He was the first to take off into the direction of the spaceship. The rest followed not far behind.

Trunks watched them go for a few heartbeats before he pursued them.

Be well, he told his sister and Marron silently.

We will, Bra answered. She sounded amazingly serene and calm. You just take care.

I will, he assured her.

Would he?

There were four of them, he saw, instead the five he had initially thought there would be. Their armor gleamed in the sunlight. They were just standing there for a moment – probably contemplating on what to destroy first, he thought bitterly. I'll kill you this time, he decided. You won't destroy my life *again*.

The Z-Senshi powered up before they touched the ground. The air crackled with pure energy. For a moment they just locked gazes with those inhuman, silver faces.

Then Trunks felt his younger counterpart burst into brighter flames. "Hello, you are now on planet Earth," the boy said. "Which is ours. Get the fuck out of here." A Final Flash filled the air with its light and scorching heat. One of the Terrors simply extended its hand and deflected the attack. It shot into the air without doing any harm.

Young Trunks shrugged, as if he had expected this. "Come and dance with us," he invited, beckoning Goten. They performed their fusion dance with practiced ease and fused into Gotenks. "Come on, don't be shy," the fused being grinned, crackling with power.

After that, the fight ensued, and Trunks did not have time to look at the others anymore.

At one point he felt that Vegeta and Goku had fused, and that Gohan was fending off one Terror on his own as he was doing.

Trunks focused into the face of the Terror as he fought. The adrenaline filled his veins, and bloodlust clouded his mind. For a while there was nothing but the fight. The kicks, the punches, the energy and the dance. For a while it was beautiful, and he reveled in it.

The Terror wasn't using all of its power yet, but that did not matter. Neither did Trunks. They were testing each other out – or rather, the Terror was testing him, and Trunks was testing his own powers.

'Don't worry Marron,' he sobbed in his memory. 'I will make everything right again…'

Revenge. He would avenge her.

No more play. He would end this here, today. On this fateful day, three years ago, the world had ended. It would not happen today. Not this way.

He opened his mind and assaulted the Silver Terror mercilessly. A surprise attack.

~Confusion. Pain.~

YES!

Bra! Piccolo! He called out. Help me!

I am supporting Gohan, he felt Piccolo's mind respond. The Namek sounded distracted and yet focused. He became aware of the battle Gohan was fighting – it was a nasty one. His Terror did not seem to bother with testing, it just went all-out. Through the link with Piccolo, he felt Gohan's pain and determination. It only lasted a moment, until Bra responded.

I am here, she told him, and fortified both his mind shields and his attack. It felt like an embrace, almost like a lover. While punches and kicks and ki connected with metal, never leaving a mark, the beating on the mind shields continued. The Terror had pulled up its shields immediately after the initial attack, but they were penetrable. Both Bra and Trunks had found weak spots to hammer upon. Their fight seemed to relocate itself, they danced away from the other battles.

It seemed to last for ages. Tirelessly he fired and danced around the Terror. Both kept powering up and testing each other, while the earth below them moaned and shuddered.

He tasted blood in his mouth. Had he bitten on his tongue in the process? It did not matter. His fists were bleeding, too, and he was bruising in a myriad places. That did not matter either. He was alive and fighting.

Not too long from now he would tire down and then it would get harder, but for now he still went strong, and he almost, almost enjoyed the feeling of pounding on the object of his fear for so long.

A strange feeling of separating ki told him that first young Trunks and Goten broke out of their fusion, and then Goku and Vegeta. It caused the Terror to look up in confusion for a moment. Trunks took his chance to pop a sensu bean in his mouth and felt fresh energy course through his veins. The pain momentarily vanished.

How is the battle going on the other fronts? He asked his sister.

Bra sounded worried. Now that the fusion wore off, they're in trouble. I don't think my brother and Goten are a match for them unfused. We need to do something.

And Gohan was in pain, too, he felt, dropping his mind shields for just one heartbeat. Vegeta and Goku were doing alright, but it seemed that Gohan had encountered the strongest of the Terror. Are there gradations of power among them? He wondered.

He felt a sudden surge of admiration coming from the Terror. It seemed to be directed elsewhere.

Oh yes, there were gradations. There was a hierarchy – he had just never noticed before, because he had always seen just one or two of them together.

He needed to finish this one off so he could help Gohan. Maybe they could fuse?

The thoughts and realizations came to him all in that same heartbeat that his Terror was distracted.

I can beat you, he thought vehemently at the Terror. I will make you suffer.

The Terror turned to face him again. It still did not talk or show any emotion, frustratingly enough. But instead it made a gesture that indicated 'come and get me'. And so Trunks did, hope surging through his mind, strengthening every blow he dealt.

The wind whistled in his ears as he plummeted towards his enemy. The air smelled like ozone and lightning when the Final Flash exploded from his outstretched hands. His blood was singing and flowing alike. Bra was in his mind, reassuring and alive.

"Die," growled Trunks, filling the sky with short bursts of light. The ki sizzled and crackled – then exploded as it connected with the Terror. The energy looked gloriously violet as it shimmered on the armor, the moment it exploded. This time, the Terror winced and came back more violently than before.

He's angry, said Bra. I think you're hurting him.

I'd better be, Trunks thought back. He was tiring down, becoming slower – he could feel it. Blood and bruises were reappearing, and the battle fever was making place for fatigue. He needed to end this, and he needed to end this quickly.

The Terror came down upon him once more, a whirlwind of pain and fury. Trunks danced around him, hoping to deflect most of the anger, but he failed. All that was left was blocking and trying to find an opening, then.

Bra's venomous voice startled him when she spoke. Like it on Earth? It took him a moment before he realized she was talking to the Terror. She must have found an opening. He found one now, as well – a well-placed kick to the jaw, before he somersaulted away.

Bra's laughter filled his mind. There's a lot more where that came from. Scared yet?

~Rejection. Repulsion. Anger. Strong, pure hate~.

The feelings crashed over him like a cold shower, but they were mostly deflected by his mind shields. Bra, who had built her own walls within Trunks' defenses, laughed again. Her girlish giggle made a stark contrast to the mature way in with she spoke. She reminded him of their mother today. Oh my, am I distracting you? So sorry. Oh, wait, I am not.

"Fuck you and the spaceship you came on," Trunks added, letting Bra handle the mental assault. She seemed to be able to handle it alone, now that she had found an opening, and he needed all of his energy in this fight.

Yes, Bra gasped, as he felt her slip from his mind. She was moving somewhere – where?

No matter. He kicked, and kicked, and punched, and even clawed at the Terror. It seemed to be slower now. What the hell was Bra doing?

He twirled away from the silver-clad nemesis, and powered up for another blast. This one took some time. Precious time which he had not had earlier in this fight. That's what it all came down to, wasn't it? It always came down to time. Time and Destiny.

Trunks smelled the ozone again as a blue light formed around his hands. "I'll get you…" he whispered. "Eat this. This will end it."

Suddenly, the Silver Terror let out a bloodcurdling scream. The sound made Trunks' neck hair stand on end, and he almost dropped his energy in surprise.

NOW! His own mind, and Bra's voice, shouted in unison.

And so he did. He unleashed all his hate and anger with his new ultimate attack. "Burning HELL!" he screamed, in time with the pain and the terror of his enemy. As he released the energy, he felt the mind shields of the Terror drop, and a flood of thoughts and emotions rolled over him. It consisted mostly of hate and insanity. Bra retreated, but Trunks rode the wave of emotions and kept pouring his soul into the ki-blast. This should end it, he thought again. It had to.

And it did.

Finally, blessedly, the Silver Terror vaporized in the blue light.

Only specs of dust and light remained.

He needs mind control over the armor, Bra said, sounding tired. Without mind control, he's nothing. Well, he's still strong, but he's a match for you.

We beat him, Trunks thought. Wonder filled his heart, until he thought he'd burst with joy. Marron, do you see me? I avenged you, I did it, I finally did it just for you. I promised I'd make things right again, and I did, I-

Trunks! Bra called, pulling him out of his reverie. There is more to do, listen to the battle!

He opened his mind to become aware of the world around him. Gone was the secluded little world that had only allowed the existence of Bra, the Terror, and himself. Information and sensations rained down on him. To the south, Goku and Vegeta – holding their own in battle with a Terror.

Not far to the east: Gotenks. They had apparently found the time to fuse again. That was a good thing – although the battle was rough and hard, and Gotenks was battered, bruised, and severely ticked off.

And to the north: the joined minds of Gohan and Piccolo. And this felt wrong. Gohan was exhausted. Piccolo was pouring energy into him instead of assaulting the Terror. The Namek was one of the greatest tactical minds they had – he wouldn't spend his time on giving Gohan energy if the situation wasn't very dire. Gohan was losing. Trunks became aware of blood-flecked spit and broken ribs, of exhaustion and the struggle for oxygen.

Gohan needs us, Bra said worriedly. She sounded very, very tired now.

Yes he does, admitted Trunks, popping another sensu bean. He'd need it, if he wanted to back up Gohan. He was fighting the strongest of them and he needed the best Trunks could offered for backup. To his frustration, Trunks noticed that the sensu was not quite ripe yet. It was his last one and all he had, and it took a while for the bean to start working.

Valuable seconds ticked away while he concentrated on Gohan for mind support, while he waited for his body to heal. Gohan's mind was raw and bruised. It was filled with images of Pan and Videl, safely hidden with the others somewhere down the earth. Was it a cave? He was fighting for them, defending his family with all his strength. He had forbidden either of them to be around. If all should fail, they could search for the Dragonballs. If everyone else would die, including Marron and Bra and Bulma, they would be the backup. Gohan had wanted to keep them safe – and they kept him sane throughout his pain.

Why aren't you doing anything? Bra asked impatiently. Fatigued as she was, she was determined to keep fighting. She definitely had her father's spirit – once she set her mind to something, she refused to back down.

He was about to send her a thought about the bean, when he suddenly felt an explosion. A ki explosion.

It scorched him – the earth trembled… it severed a tie… and over the mind connection, Piccolo let out a horrible scream that was filled with grief, loss and burning anger.

What happened?! Bra shouted in disbelief.

But of course they both knew already.

Neither of them could feel Gohan's ki signature anymore.

Gohan had been killed.

*

Bulma nearly suffered from a heart attack when her daughter suddenly burst into tears and began to shriek. She immediately threw her arms around the little girl, fearing the worst. Her nightmares were coming true. "Shh be silent, sweetie. You don't want them to hear us," she whispered.

Bra just sobbed, clinging to her mother desperately.

Over Bra's shoulder, she exchanged a look with Marrons shocked blue eyes. "What happened?" the blond girl asked breathlessly.

Only a minute ago, Bra had been ultimately concentrated, determined, and even smiling nastily. She had been very… Saiya-jin. A lot like Vegeta, really. It had soothed her fears and given her hope. But now this… an explosion had occurred and Bra was breaking down. Bulma wondered who had died. Her stomach clenched into a tight ball. If it was Vegeta or Trunks… or future Trunks… or Goku… or…

"Gohan is dead," her daughter cried, almost exploding with grief. She was filled so deeply with it that she did not know what to do with herself. She pounded against her mother's shoulders, trying to channel her pain. Bulma suffered through the attack of despair, even though it hurt her extremely.

Gohan.

She remembered a shy four year old boy with a tail that hid behind his fathers legs on the beach, peeking out curiously. He had a hat on with the four-star dragonball on it, looking unbelievably cute.

She remembered a boy, as old as her own daughter, who had defeated the monster called Cell, losing his father in the process. That boy had been broken by grief, yet shimmering with a rage and power and intelligence that was unnaturally bright.

She remembered that same boy, years later, looking noble and tall and handsome, through a veil of her own tears while he slipped a ring on the finger of a beautiful darkhaired girl. He looked so proud and beautiful that day. She had shared handkerchiefs with Hercule Satan that day, sniffling and blowing their noses together.

And now Gohan was dead.

She could not believe it.

But her daughter had to calm down. The battle was still raging, and her loved ones needed her. She beckoned Dende to support Marron, while she herself told Bra sharply: "We still have the Dragonballs, silly girl, and the others need you. Come back to your senses, Bra Briefs, NOW."

Liquid blue eyes looked up at her, tears streaming over her young face. "He's dead," she hiccupped. For the first time, Bulma detected fear on her daughter's face. And fatigue. "The Terror's too strong. We'll all die," Bra gasped.

"Of course not," she snapped. "Unless you want to give up now?"

"I don't think I can fight anymore…"

"Of course you can. Dende, heal my daughter, she needs her strength."

The young Namek looked troubled. "I don't think I can heal the fatigue of the mind, Bulma. She's not injured."

"So what?" Bulma lashed out. "Try it anyway!"

A warm light enveloped the Namek's hands and made Bra tinge golden. The young girl closed her eyes for a moment, letting the healing light wash over her. For a moment, she looked beautiful in the golden light – was this what she would look like, if she would have the ability to transform into Super Saiya-jin, Bulma wondered.

Bra opened her eyes. "I feel better, but still tired. I don't think…"

"Stop jabbering and fucking concentrate on the fight, Bra! They need your help!" Bulma shouted, losing her patience.

"Right," her daughter said, suddenly all professional again. "Piccolo is grieving. Someone should go to him."

"I'll go," offered Dende.

 Marron wiped the tears from her face. "I'll go with you," she said, and they left quickly.

"Goten and Trunks need help too. I'll ask Trunks to back them up," Bra continued, focusing again. Her eyes had a distant look, and her face wrinkled into a frown of concentration. "Trunks, hurry!"

*

Goten and Trunks just broke out of their second fusion when they felt the unthinkable happen. Gohans ki vanished.

"He's dead!" Goten choked out, falling on his knees on the rocky ground. His ki level dropped like a stone.

Trunks was too slow to shield him from the blow that the Terror dealt his friend. The loss doubled their disorientation from breaking out of the fusion. He simply had not seen it coming. A flash of silver, and blood went spraying. Goten rolled over in the dirt like a rag doll, and his body crashed into a nearby boulder. Dust filled the air.

"Goten!" Trunks shouted.

He had no time to think, because the Terror descended upon him. He felt malice and hate flowing out of the Terror, but had no chance to try and do anything to it mentally – he needed all his concentration on the fight. And the grief kept hammering in his head: Gohan is dead, Goten is down….

It distracted him, and it gave the Terror a large advantage.

How the hell was he supposed to fight when such an emotional blow was dealt?

Blows and kicks were raining down on him. He was struggling to defend and block, but too many punches and kicks were coming through. Trunks tasted blood in his mouth. He could not believe that it would end like this.

*

Vegeta had just dealt the Terror an extremely powerful kick, sending the creature reeling through the air and crashing into a nearby mountain. Vegeta used the time he had created to send a Final Flash after the Terror – when he felt something snap.

Goku, who had been powering up a Kamehameha, suddenly went very still. All the color drained from his face. He looked as if he had seen a ghost. "….Gohan…?" he whispered over bloodless lips.

There's no time for this, Kakarot, he reminded his old rival. We'll bring him back later.

But the other Saiya-jin did not respond to that at all. It was as if Goku's mind went totally blank – he did not move at all.

"Kakarot!" Vegeta hissed.

Still no response.

The Terror emerged from the mountain.

"Damn you Kakarot! There's a battle going on here!"

There really was no time for this. Vegeta boosted his ki and went at the Terror alone this time. There was no one to back him up mentally, but he gave it all he had and fought for all he was worth. Kakarot will come around later, he thought. The fool has always been too damn soft-heartedly. Too easily distracted. I don't mind, I'll just kill that twerp myself. Telepathy backup or not, I'll kill you, he vowed.

He felt Goten's kilevel drop, as well.

And then his own son began broadcasting pain and despair.

It was then that the Prince of all Saiya-jins began to taste bitter fear on his tongue.

A/N: Sorry about Gohan! I hate myself for doing this, too.

Don't worry, I won't leave you hanging for too long with this cliffhanger. I'll update soon.

~ LL