There are things you do because you have to
there are things you do because you want to
…and then there are the things you do for love.
~ Source unknown
The things we do for love
He dealt a backhand. Hard. Powered by ki, and hitting home with full strength… right in the throat. Trunks allowed himself a smirk and moved to kick his opponent down into the earth. The Terror, reflexively clawing at his throat, did not have time to defend and crashed into the hill below with a thundering crash.
A few moments respite.
He's weakening, said Bra. But I am not sure it will be enough.
Trunks took a few unguarded, deep breaths. I don't care. I just want to hurt him.
…
He felt her hesitation. What is it, Bra?
There is a plan to destroy the Terror. But mom is not sure whether it will work. And we'll have to give it our all. It will be dangerous.
Trunks snorted, checking the damage below him. The dust was clearing and the debris was stirring. His opponent should return soon; he'd better make sure he relocated before that time. And fighting like this isn't? he retorted pointedly.
This is worse.
I don't see how. There. Silver was gleaming. Trunks dove out of the area where the Terror would expect him. He was only half paying attention to the mental conversation with his sister – the fight was top priority.
I don't know how to say this, her young mental voice groaned.
Show me, then.
Silver energy burst out of the ground in a bad parody of molten magma. It glittered in the sunlight for a moment, before Trunks deflected it and let it explode in the open sky with a blast of his own. "Missed me, bastard," he breathed. That was all the time he had, before the Terror descended upon him and flashes of images, much like he had experienced during his time travel, bloomed up in his mind.
-Young Trunks and Goten fusing into Gotenks
-"We can fight, we're not dead yet"-
-Bleeding, unfocused, but determined, ready-
-Bulma, bloodstains on her face, telling them "You'll be a decoy"-
-Ki energy sparkling around two combatants – silver and gold-
-and himself, immersing his body in silver-
…Silver Armor?
-("I managed to reproduce the silver armor…")-
He'd be undefeatable.
He'd probably go insane, too.
Would you?
Could you?
For one heartbeat, he did not know. Then: thoughts.
Damned if you do, damned if you don't. You can't win, they will die. And you, who are you anyway- you're from a dead future. What does it matter what happens to you?
Give your life, and Marron and Bra will live. Goten and Young Trunks will live. This future will live. And it's not even your life… just your sanity, or whatever is left. Is that such a high price to pay? He thought of Marrons sweet smile, and it wasn't.
"I'll do it," he told Bra out loud, his eyes still locked on the expressionless silver face of his opponent. Still battling. Always battling, as if they'd never stop and fight forever.
Bra was silent for a few moments. Sudden grief weighed upon his mind. Was it his or hers? I'll protect you, she vowed suddenly. Her mental voice was vehement; her attacks on the Terror were venomous. She vowed with the unbreakably strong belief and the resolve of the eleven year old child she was. I won't let you go insane.
Trunks just fought the Terror, and thought of love, prices and sanity.
***
"Fu…. sion…. HA!"
The two young men were emanated by a bright light. When it subsided, there was one where there had been two. Dark fathomless eyes that reminded Bulma of both Vegeta and Goku, a cocky grin, and strands of both lavender and black hair. "Don't worry," Gotenks said in his strange double voice. "I'll take care of it all."
"You're still bleeding," Dende remarked.
"Shit happens," shrugged Gotenks. "Heal me when I'm back." The fused being locked eyes with Bulma. "I'll send Trunks to you, and he can put on the armor. Tell him to hurry, I don't know how long I can hold the Terror off."
"Just do what you can," Bulma said breathless, taking in the youth before her. She needed to look, needed to see, needed to remember… because maybe – no, no, don't think that. She had to say it, though. "Don't die."
"I won't."
Gotenks nodded at Dende, looked at her and Bra one last time – not to say goodbye (she couldn't afford to think like that) and then took off, powering up until he shone as golden as the sun. He had been careful enough to power up when he was well out of range, so the Terror wouldn't guess their location. It probably wouldn't notice anyhow, because it was too busy battling Future Trunks, but Bulma was glad that Gotenks took precautions.
It didn't take long until Bra opened her eyes. "He's on his way."
Bulma nodded and thought how good it was to see her daughter awake.
"It's good to be awake… because I can do this!" her daughter
grinned, and hugged Bulma hard. "Will we be alright,
mom?"
Bulma could not help hugging back. "I hope so. I'm so
sorry."
"Me too."
"For what?"
Passionately, Bra buried her face in Bulma's
shoulder. "For not being strong enough."
Bulma stroked her daughter's hair and wanted to cry. "Darling, you are magnificent. All of you are. I love you."
"I love you too," Bra whispered, and then tore herself loose to turn around.
Future Trunks touched ground.
***
It was strange to fight without Piccolo, Gotenks mused, as he dove headfirst into battle. This Terror was definitely stronger than the one he/they had fought earlier. It was also… weakening, somehow. Gotenks tried to probe into the mind of the Terror, but a stabbing headache prevented him from going too far. "Argh, that wasn't such a good idea," he groaned, somersaulting out of the Terror's reach for a moment. "Just old fashioned martial arts then," he decided and readied himself.
His headache was blinding and stabbing, his vision was shimmery and blurry at the edges and his whole body was throbbing with pain and energy alike, but Gotenks was determined to make a stand.
And if it would be the last one, so be it.
***
For one moment, Bulma could not believe how beautiful her future son looked. Hadn't the Silver Terror called themselves Angels of Death? Trunks looked like the epitome of an avenging angel. His hair had come loose from his ponytail and was matted with blood. His armor was cracked and had even melted at places. He looked bruised and battered, had a black eye and a dangerous-looking bruise at his right temple, his lips were swollen and his eyes were pools of blue electricity – but he looked beautiful. That was all she could think of. Beautiful.
"Give me the armor," he croaked. "Quickly."
"Of course." She reached into her pockets, and found the capsule. "I am so sorry."
"Don't be," he spat impatiently, as he waited for the capsule to reveal its contents. "I am glad to pay the price. Tell Goten and Trunks to kill me before I lose all control."
"I will."
The late afternoon sunlight gleamed on the armor before Trunks took it in his hands. "You have to help me," he said. His voice sounded uneven, emotion cracking through.
Bulma, Dende and Bra all helped him.
"I am so sorry," Bulma whispered again, before she clasped the last part shut. All he had to do now was put the mask on, and he would be gone.
"Don't be," he said again and smiled weakly.
"I'll be with you," Bra said. Fresh tears were running over her dust-smeared cheeks. "I won't leave you."
"That makes me glad," he whispered. His eyes were filling with tears, too.
Dende blessed him quickly. "Our thoughts are with you."
"My love is with you," Bulma told him, when he took the mask in his hands.
He looked wistful at the blue sky and smiled sadly. "The things we do for love…"
Future Trunks put on the mask.
The silver rolled like mercury over his skin and his hair and locked seamlessly into place. Where there had been a demi-saiya-jin before, a true Angel of Death now emerged: glittering, gleaming, and pulsing with energy and rage despite the expressionless mask. Behind the mask, a young and pained man was hiding, and he was determined to fight and give his all.
"The things we do for love," Bra repeated. The young girl wiped her tears, gave her mother a last, longing look, and closed her eyes to join him.
The last phase of the battle had started.
