What the hell are you trying?
What happened to you?
Are you still denying
That this is the truth?
~ Apocalyptica – 'Path'
Dance
First there was a red haze; the next moment there was a sound that was both so piercing and familiar that Goten snapped out of his half-consciousness with a shock. The sudden intake of air made him choke. Hands rolled him over on his side, allowing him to cough up clotted bits of black blood. The light was too still too blinding to look into, so he kept his eyes firmly shut while he concentrated on getting the blood out of his lungs.
"Careful," Dende's gentle voice advised him. "We have you in hiding, you are safe for now. However, you've been bleeding internally, and you took a nasty hit on the head that I don't dare prying into. Keep yourself still."
Too late, Goten thought ironically, when his back arched with the tearing coughs.
Behind him, the voice had stopped screaming. All that was left was a heartbreaking sobbing. Goten recognized that sound… he had not heard it for years, and it brought back dark memories. He rolled over on his other side. "Trunks?" he asked hoarsely, squinting against the sunshine. His head was aching like he had the mother of all migraines. Trunks did not respond. He was cooped up in his mother's arms. On every other day this scene would have embarrassed him to death, but not now. He cried as if someone had died.
Is he crying so hard over Gohan? he thought for a moment, but that did not make sense. Trunks liked Gohan, a lot even, but not so much that Gohan's death (Goten cringed at the stab of pain that came with this thought) would devastate him so utterly.
Bulma had her face buried in her son's lavender hair, wetting it with her own tears.
Someone else, then.
Bra was sitting next to her mother, watching Piccolo's still form without registering. Goten tried to feel if she was linked with Future Trunks, but his head hurt too much to make anything out. The glassy look on the young girl's face said enough, anyhow.
Piccolo seemed to be unconscious. That was the last thing he remembered: Piccolo telling him/them to continue pounding on the Terror. Goten remembered being Gotenks, filled with power more than he had ever felt before. And battling, while the Terror was weakened and they had finally killed it. But not before taking a severe blow to the head – the one that was still making him feel unfocused. It hurt like a bitch, to put it bluntly.
The Terror had died, Piccolo had fallen, and so had they, eventually.
So who else had died?
"Who?" he croaked at Bulma.
"Marron," she whispered, still embracing her son for all she was worth.
Goten buried his face in his hands and wished for unconsciousness.
*
Their dance was horrible and beautiful to behold for anyone who might be
watching. It would have to be someone who could follow the sheer speed that the
two opponents were displaying, because their strikes were lightning quick, too quick for the untrained eye to follow. Kicks, punches,
blows, blasts, they all followed each other in rapid succession. Concentration
and focus was so present in the two opponents that one could almost taste it in
the air. Concentration, focus, and pure, intense hatred.
Trunks and the Terror twirled around each other. Diving, dodging, reflecting, countering, spinning. Quick and flashing, like lighting or electricity. It was all instinctive, all thoughts blanked from their minds. Trunks knew only a few things: he really, really hated the Silver Terror for everything he had done, and he really wanted to hurt him, even if it would be the last thing he did. And that the bastard just wouldn't lie down and die. The Terror was simply too strong. His mind shields were impenetrable and his armor was the strongest he had encountered this far.
This must be their leader, Bra agreed.
I don't care, thought Trunks. As long as he dies.
~Hatred. Determination.~
The Terror had deliberately broadcasted those emotions to him. Trunks and Bra picked them up clearly enough to realize this. Trunks snorted. I'm glad we agree on this.
He somersaulted away and tried to power up for a Final Flash, but instead found himself on the defense as his legs were swung out from under him by a well-placed kick. The wind whistled in his ears as he blocked and kicked and punched and spun and kicked and danced around the Terror. He was tired and he knew the Terror was not, but he'd rather die than give up now. They had bitten deeply into one another, and they refused to let go.
Then:
The fight kept going and going as if they'd fight forever. He'd give that Terror the fight of its life. His fists were raw and bloody, but he did not care. There was more blood upon him, more than was probably healthy, but at this point Trunks did not care that much about health anymore.
Now:
The only difference was that Bra was here with him. She was half distracted because in her physical body she was trying to get Piccolo to wake up. It slowed down their progress, but Trunks did not really mind. The fight seemed to last forever, and Trunks enjoyed every blow that connected. Even though he was fighting in defense of his life and the ones that were still standing, it felt so good to pound away his anger and his frustration on someone that really deserved it…
Blood and health did indeed not matter anymore.
Just the dance.
*
Her son was draped around her, his body strangely boneless and clenching at the same time. Her strong arms surrounded her and Bulma buried her face in his hair, trying to console him. "I still haven't kissed her yet," he murmured against her shoulder. "She can't be dead. Not like this…"
"There's still the dragonballs," she said softly. "Please sweetie, calm down. I can tell that you're powering up, and we need to stay low profile here. We don't want to draw attention with the two of you hurt like this."
"I don't CARE!" Trunks pulled himself loose from her grasp abruptly and looked at her with startling blue eyes that somehow reminded her of Vegeta, or maybe the older Trunks from the other timeline. He looked tormented, as if he had a terrible anger that he was unable to channel. "I can't lose her. I can't lose you. Any of you. Just look at Bra, mom."
Bulma glanced at her entranced daughter and felt her heart ache. "We should do something," she whispered. "We need to do something. I don't think Future Trunks can pull it off."
"We can fight," Goten said, although the unfocused look in his eyes told everyone differently. "We're not dead yet. There has to be something…"
Something.
Bulma felt her hands clench – fingernails drove deeply into the palms of her hands. (The armor? What the hell are you thinking? You can't do this, this is too dangerous, we can't sacrifice any of them like this – it's insane and horrible. You can't you can't you can't – it's too risky – and where is Vegeta? Where is Goku? When did this battle turn so sour? I don't want to make this decision-) She had to make that decision. But who and when? And how? (No, damn you! No one can do this! They'll be lost forever to a fate worse than death! You can't do this, woman.) But who else could? They were running out of options fast. She needed to make a decision. She was the only one who could do it.
She glanced at Piccolo for a moment – still unconsciousness and feeling oddly empty.
Bra, (little one) entranced, with trails of tears still on her young face.
Goten (like a son), grieving over his brother's death, crusted blood in his spiky hair.
Her son (beautiful) , nearly mad with grief, guilt, anger and pain. Also suffering from head injury that Dende did not dare to heal.
Dende, Guardian of Earth, but looking so very young and insecure in this moment, because he clearly knew what she was thinking.
Vegeta (lover) and Goku (friend), missing in action. Dead?
Future Trunks ("I think I want a cigarette, too"), fighting to the death with a horror from outer space.
Life for the planet, death for you.
Bulma looked at the palms of her hands and noticed that they were bleeding. Little half-moons of blood were welling up where she had pierced her own skin. She sighed, long and shuddering. "I can't do this," she whispered.
*
How do you stay sane when bloodlust and hate are thundering through your mind and adrenaline is filling your veins? How do you stay sane when you've lost the person you love the most for the second time? Thoughts and coherency are suddenly wiped out, and all that remains is an urge to kill, to destroy and to hurt. A primal need to drink blood, to hurt, to emerge victorious. Vegeta had told him once that the Saiya-jin rage is fearsome and that it takes over every fiber of their being – that is why the Saiya-jin children were so terrible during their first transformation to oozaru. The bloodlust simply clouded every other thought in their mind – leaving only the urge to kill behind.
Future Trunks had reached that particular state of mind right now. All he wanted was to hurt, break, maim and kill – and it fueled his ki to levels it had never been before.
Bra, in his mind, had distanced herself from her – she was afraid of him, and tried to concentrate on the mental block alone. It was different now. They still pursued the same goal, but not as one person anymore. Their rage and anguish formed a barrier. Bra was relentless and brutal in her mental attacks – fueled by a passion and intensity that was far beyond her years. She was as Saiya-jin and as human as he was, and her pain was the same. Despair and fear had vanished from their minds, completely overshadowed by rage, determination and the intensity of the fight.
They were both beyond any reasoning, beyond anything but bloodlust. They had bitten deeply into their opponent, and they would fight to the death.
*
As for their opponent, who could guess what went on behind that silver mask?
It was a creature that did not even think anymore. All of its remaining intelligence was used for battle strategy and evil cunning. Mere thoughts had all been clouded in a bloodlust much like the lavender haired young man before it. The creature, that had once been a living person and now referred to itself as an Angel of Death, was now less than human – and in some way it was more. It was a true vengeful angel with unbelievable power, and it brought vengeance upon anything it encountered.
*
Thus so they danced, and thus the Earth shuddered under the immensity of the power that was displayed and inflicted on it. Every being on the planet could feel the earth below their feet tremble. Many people had sought refuge in open spaces, afraid that the end of the world was upon them.
Hercule Satan had taken it upon himself to try and reassure the masses by appearing on TV and boasting that whatever it was, he could handle it. But in the meantime, he feared for the life of his family and everything he held dear.
Nevertheless, he had to do his duty. And so he planted his hands in his side and laughed heartily as he challenged whatever was attacking the planet. Nothing responded for now, and the earth continued to rumble. The sky lit up in the oddest of colors; the colors of ki energy that were filtered through clouds of dust. Hercule Satan had seen this before… long years ago when he had been with Vegeta and Goku during the battle with Majin Buu. Satan remembered that day, and tried to fight down his fear.
The Earth would be victorious. It always had, and would be, this time.
*
And on that sunlit hill, not far from the battlefield, Bulma Briefs unclenched her hands to wipe away her tears. Smears of blood from her palms remained on her face, but she did not even notice. Her mouth tightened in determination. She would hate herself forever if this would not work.
"I think I found a way to beat the Terror," she announced to the others. "But it's going to take everything we have… and it will cost us everything if we fail."
"Tell us," the Guardian of Earth urged.
Bulma explained her plan.
A/N: Argh, cliffhanger, I know! The next part is already
written, just needs some beta and polishing, so it won't take long.
I want to thank Apocalyptica for their inspiring
music – their passionate and brilliant music has practically revived this story
when I truly thought it was dead and buried.
Also, last but certainly not least: I'd like to thank all of you for the lovely reviews I am getting with this story. Thank you all so much, couldn't do it without you. Love you all!
