*squeals and dances around like a fool* YEEEEHAAAA! I got 10 reviews in one day!
MG: *on the floor with a pillow over his head* Please try not to hit such high octaves when you squeal…
Gomen nasai, Gohan-chan! *cuddles Gohan* Now, time for the feedback to all of my wonderful reviewers!
SSH: Yeah, so I'm making you read it again, but this is the only way you're gonna see the updates. I only had 6 chappies written when I started posting it…^^; Anyhoo, here's a Chichi plushie. Just don't use it on Goku and Mystic unless they really deserve it, 'kay?
Cory: I hope you all think it's awesome…thanks!
Chris-Redfield26: Thankies! Will do!
Frying Pan of DOOM: Ack, you're a household name around here! I have an Undentable Swiss-Army FPoD that I use on Gohan-chan a lot…^^;;;
Saiyagal: Thanks! Here ya go! *hands her a Pan plushie*
Android 71: Ooh, I'm so thrilled that you're reading this! I LOVE your stories! Sorry, but he probably won't go SSJ2 until later on. Glad you like it!
Goten's Guardian Angel: YEAH! Gohan 4 ever! *hands her a Chibi Gohan plushie*
Chibi Lauryn: Yeah, I love Trunks too, but I had to do it. Gomen, Trunks-chan fans!
Vejita-Girl: Don't worry, I didn't forget. That point will make itself plenty obvious in upcoming chappies.
SparkyKnight: Yeah, well, it's supposed to be sad. Herejago! *hands over the Heero plushie* Gotta love Gundam Wing!
Contrail: Arigatou! It was short 'cause that was actually the prologue…I'll try to make the rest of my chapters longer.
Well, that's everyone…
MG: I get to go SSJ2? Cool!
Yeah, but you won't like what I put you through for you to get there.
MG: *sweatdrop* I was afraid of that…let's get on with it, shall we?
Oshkies! Oh yeah-disclaimer: Do I look like a middle-aged Japanese man with glasses? Didn't think so. Therefore, I do not own DBZ.
*****
The door slid open, and Bulma heard heavy footsteps down the hall. She stood in the kitchen over the stove, knowing that when the demi-Saiyans got back they would be hungry. There was a soft groan and a deep, shaky intake of air from the living room, then the sound of water dripping steadily onto the tiled kitchen floor.
"Get a towel, Gohan," Bulma said, stirring her pot of soup. The doorframe creaked slightly as Gohan leaned against it, but the dripping sound pursued.
"Gohan—" Bulma turned around to look at the young man. She paused and stared at him a minute, then looked down at the puddle forming at his feet. She gasped—the water was tinted red. "Oh my gosh, you're bleeding! Let me get some bandages." Bulma tried to push past him into the living room, but Gohan put his arm up to block the doorway. Bulma looked up at him, and he stared back at her with a flat expression and blank eyes.
"Bulma…I'm sorry. I tried."
She tilted her head in confusion. "What do you mean? Where's Trunks?" Panic began to enter her tone. Gohan looked back over his shoulder at the lavender-haired teenager on the couch, then back at Bulma. "Tell me he's alright, Gohan," she said, staring at her son.
Gohan swallowed hard, shook his head, and said, "I'm sorry. I…I tried...I couldn't…" He looked away, lowered his arm, and wandered back to the guest room, leaving a reddish trail of water behind.
Bulma ran over to the couch where Gohan had laid Trunks's body. She clasped her hands over her mouth and fell to her knees, whispering "Oh my God…" over and over.
Trunks's clothes were ragged, wet, and stained with blood, and a hole pierced his chest. His eyes were closed, his hair was stuck to his forehead, and his body was limp. Bulma wrapped her arms around his body and held his head close to her heart. Tears streaked her face. "Hush, little baby, don't say a word, Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird." Bulma sang softly through the sobs that racked her body. "And if that mockingbird don't sing, Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring."
Gohan fell backwards onto the bed and ran his hand through his drenched black hair, pacing his breathing and trying to calm himself. He stared with slightly glazed eyes at the ceiling as the fan blades slowly turned.
His chest felt empty and his mind was clouded. The only thought that had even entered his mind was that it had been his battle, and because of a few minuscule miscalculations, his little brother had paid the ultimate price.
His eyes were dry, as they had been for almost thirteen years. He has grown so hardened to the circumstances that he had forgotten how to cry. So he just layed there, numb with shock, until the sound of raindrops hitting the roof lulled him to sleep.
Gohan awoke early the next morning. He slipped out the back window and glided silently up to the roof. The rain had ceased sometime in the night, and the sun was just beginning to stretch above the horizon. Within seconds, the bright orange sphere had painted the sky a brilliant shade of gold and tipped the clouds in neon pink. Soft pastels played in the upper atmosphere until the sky faded to an odd shade of lilac and then to blue.
Gohan smiled a bit and leaned back. Sitting on the roof to watch the sunrise had always been a release for him, and it felt good to be out in the cool, misty morning air. "Trunks would've loved this," he said to himself as he flew back down to his window and into the room.
He struggled a minute to peel off the still-wet gi he'd almost forgot he had on, then began rummaging through the drawers. He finally pulled out the pair of jeans and t-shirt he always kept at Capsule, and he flung them on. He took a deep breath, closed the window, and headed downstairs.
The soft sound of bare feet on the carpeted stairway roused Bulma from the light slumber she had fallen into. She had fallen asleep sitting in the living room floor with her head on Trunks's stomach.
"You okay?" came the soft, gentle voice from the doorway. Bulma looked up at Gohan and nodded, then wiped the tear-trails from her cheeks. She ran her hand over Trunks's face, brushing the hair away from his eyes.
"He feels so cold…" she whispered.
Gohan just looked at his young friend a moment, then crossed the room and sat on the floor next to Bulma. "You have no idea how sorry I am," he said quietly. "I told him to stay put. I thought he's be safe, but…" His voice trailed off. He really didn't know what to say. "I know all the apologies in the world won't help, but I'm so sorry."
Their eyes met, and the tears began to run down Bulma's face again. "I never wanted him to fight. He was my little boy, but he had his father's blood. I don't blame you, Gohan. He knew you would've died for him, and he felt the same way."
Gohan looked away, then ran his hand through the boy's lilac hair. "That's the color the sunrise was," he said to himself. Bulma smiled a bit, then looked up at Gohan as he stood and headed for the other stairway.
"Gohan…?"
"I'm going down to the lab."
Bulma watched him head down the stairs, confused. She pulled the blue wool blanket up to Trunks's chin, stood up, and followed him.
Gohan cursed under his breath again as he dodged more falling objects. He was hovering in mid-air, rummaging around the top shelf for something. "Ahah!" he said, grabbing a small piece of paper from behind two beakers. He folded it in half and stuffed it in his pocket, then dropped to the ground. He whirled around as his Saiyan ears picked up the sound of someone coming down the hall.
"What are you looking for?" Bulma asked from the doorway. Gohan shoved the paper deeper into his pocket and quickly replied, "Nothing."
The beaker he had just pushed aside chose that moment to leap off the shelf and bounce off of Gohan's head. "Ow!" he yelled, his hand flying up to catch the glass container. Bulma smiled as Gohan sat it down on the counter and proceeded to rub his head.
"Nice catch," she said.
Gohan shrugged. "Saiyan reflexes." He crossed the room and started back down the hall, deep in thought and unconsciously rubbing his left shoulder again.
"What were you looking for?" Bulma repeated. Gohan shook his head and headed back up to the living room.
By the time Bulma reached the living room, Gohan was crouched by the couch, struggling to lift Trunks over his shoulder. Bulma's expression twisted to one of mixed sorrow, anguish, and pity. "Let me help," she said, starting towards the couch.
Gohan pursed his lips, shook his head, and hoisted the boy over his shoulder. "No, I've got him." His features were contorted to a look of pure frustration. He stood and looked at Bulma as an awkward silence ensued. Both knew what had to be done. Neither wanted to do it.
"I've got the door," Bulma said, barely above a whisper.
*****
Another short chappie, I know. Waaah, poor Gohan-chan! *glomps Gohan*
MG: Yeah…Ani, I love you and all, but I…can't…breathe…
Gomen! *lets go* I'll post the next chapter soon…I hope…I think I'm going to New Orleans on Sunday, so I may not get to update again until the middle of next week. It's not that I don't have it written, I just don't have it typed.
MG: Lazy.
*glares* I am not. Okay, so I am, but that's beside the point. So please don't kill me if I don't update. Well, Ja ne! New reviewers get a plushie, returning reviewers get sweets!
MG: *slaps forehead* That's just what I need. A bunch of sugar-hyped fangirls and authoresses after me. *rolls eyes*