Author's Notes: ... second chapter. And not much else. ^_^;; Anyway, enjoy!

Pairing: Mirai Juunana/Mirai Trunks, shounen-ai

"All You Have"

~chapter two~

by: Rosalyn Angel

I didn't see you for a few days. After my calm retort to you crushing my throat, you had violently shoved past me and stormed out the door. Yes, I could have escaped. Yes, even safely. But no, I didn't want to. I finally understood what was going on, and I wanted to rub it in your face.

During those days, I had to entertain myself. I would have gone out and blasted a few buildings, but the metal lightweight wristband disagreed. So I stuck myself inside your house (was it home to you anymore, after your mother died?) and messed around. I only took short moments every-so often to wonder where you had gone to or when you would be back. Mostly I trusted my entertainment to the radio, especially to the stations that rumored excitedly about the androids being dead, and fiddling around the rooms to see what I could find. Your mother's lab was particularly interesting, though sadly I didn't find any blueprints or plans on how to get the damn wristband off me.

Since you had left in such a rush, your mother's bedroom had remained unlocked. I would have rummaged around in there, but I resisted. For some reason, the rational side of my mind was telling that that would be pushing the limits. But the, say, more wreckless side of me simply said it'd be fun. I eventually settled on not looking around because I wasn't interested in what a woman in her late forties would wear. I shuddered.

How I kept myself from going insane from boredom, I don't know. Maybe I was just anxious for your return so I could prove my theory, but shouldn't that make time go slower? Whatever the case was, hours-- days went by. I had run out of places to look and I had nearly memorized every song they played on the radio.

I sat in a chair in complete silence at night with my legs curled up in front and my arms wrapped around them. The shadows in the dark were always interesting, so I watched them. See, that shadow was the sofa behind me, that shadow was me, and that shadow was you-- ... oh.

I craned my black-haired head to the side. You were menacingly standing over me. "Gee, back so soon?"

You snorted at me and crossed your arms. I noticed you had ripped off the sleeves of your blue jacket. "I'm surprised you didn't run away."

"I thought about it," I said honestly. You raised an eyebrow then brushed back some lavender hair from your eyes. You seemed a lot calmer than you had been before; I wondered, did you go out searching for your mother's corpse? Did you find her, bury her? Did that give you some sort of absolution?

I fought against you for years. I know you...

"I was training," you said stiffly to explain your absence, as if you knew what I had been thinking. Then, you turned on your heel and went to your room.

... don't lie to me.

******

The man finally moves to bow his head, closing his eyes as he does so. His breaths come out in little white puffs because of the chill in the air. It's a cold night, but he does not notice.

******

Just a few hours after your return, I heard racket in your bedroom. I was lying on my own bed, shirtless and trying to sleep, as you no doubt threw your pillows and covers to the floor. You were looking for something.

Did I mention that, on one of my strolls exploring your house, I went into your room? I had commented mentally on how bleak it seemed, even more than the guest room did. I couldn't see your personality in it at all. I think the only thing I found that said you lived in there was what I held. I had discovered it under your pillow. It intrigued me enough that I had wanted to keep it. So I did.

A simple thing really. But it must have meant so much more to you. It contained most of your life, and all it was... was a picture. You looked only ten-years-old in it. I still remember when you were a baby. Funny, how I've seen you grow up into what you've become. But that's not my point.

You see, I looked at that picture every night before I fell asleep, ever since I had found it in your room. I saw the one you call Gohan, with both arms intact; your mother; and you. All bunched together, hugging and smiling. Photos like these were rare, I knew. Cameras were of course still around; the trouble was getting the film developed... and actually managing to appear happy. It was strange for me to actually see you smiling, even at the age of ten. Sobbing (I didn't call it crying; there had been no tears), too, was a little strange. I hadn't seen you truly cry before, but I'm sure you have. Just when I wasn't looking.

But smiling? So the world does hold its little wonders. Though, this picture was taken-- what? Seven years ago? You probably hadn't smiled since. Maybe that was what made me keep the picture. It intrigued me to a point; you weren't all ice.

That, and it meant something to you. All the more reason to take it.

Just as soon as I was about to slip it into my pocket, you slammed open my door violently and pointed an accusing finger at me.

"Don't you ever... ever go into my room again!" you shouted as you stalked over to me darkly and snatched the picture away. I caught your eyes glancing at it momentarily, and I swear you looked like you were about to cry, but your hard mask slipped into place again.

I totally ignored your earlier demand and instead asked lowly, "How long has it been since you smiled?"

You seemed taken back and I merely sat up and pushed my covers down. You narrowed your eyes at me. You must have understood what I had been thinking. "For your information, I do smile. Just not at you or your sister."

I chuckled and swung my legs over the bed, then stood up. Crossing my arms over my bare chest, I stood right in front of you with a smirk, more than likely a little too close for your comfort. "You didn't answer my question," I said smugly. I may not be able to fight physically, but mentally I was still very fit for. "I asked how long it's been."

Through the darkness, I thought I saw you stammering and trying to hide your wavering eyes with your long hair. I answered for you.

"Not since your mother went 'out.' Not at all."

Your eyes snapped up to my cool ones as your brow furrowed. I knew I had yet again pressed a button when you harshly spat out, "That's none of your business!"

Not wanting to stand in my presence, you stormed out and away, closing my door loudly behind you. I looked down to find your picture lying at my feet. You had probably dropped it in your rage-- or were you sad? I couldn't tell. Either way, I knew you wouldn't come back for it that night even if you remembered, which you would. You probably couldn't face me so soon. I understood. All too clearly.

I bent over and picked the photo up, then put it into my jean pocket. "I wonder what you would look like now... if you smiled."

I kept it, out of morbid curiosity.

More days passed in a blur, each of us living together in silence. I bet you were surprised when I had left your photo on your pillow about three days after your return. It wasn't because I felt sorry for taking it, no. Simply put, I didn't need it. I had gazed at it so much, I memorized every detail. So I decided to just leave it where you would find it. Of course, that meant disobeying your order not to go into your room, but I guess you let that slide. I mean, you did murmur a barely audible, "Thank you," to me for returning your precious picture without a fight.

"What? What was that?" I remember saying to your murmur. "Gratitude? From you? To an android?"

You growled deeply and locked yourself in your room. I didn't hear or see much of you for a few hours, so I raided your kitchen. True, I didn't need to eat, but that didn't mean I couldn't. And damn, some of that stuff tasted good.

It startled me to think that I was actually getting cozy in your house. It was sure as hell more comfortable than the little cave my sister and I had tidied up, but I should have been out conquering the world. I couldn't believe that trying to figure out a way to escape had slipped my mind for a few days. Perhaps it was the tension and thrill of living with an enemy that made me relax (odd, I know).

I must admit, it was also fun studying your expressions whenever you were near. You always seemed uneasy when I looked at you--but no, now that I think about it, you didn't look uneasy... More like... ashamed. Hm, of what? Of yourself? For not killing me and instead letting me live under the same roof as you? Of course you do. The shame gnawed at your insides and ate you alive. Every time you saw me in your house, you were reminded of your failure, your weakness. I knew that, and more. I understood how you worked, how you ticked. Tick tock, Trunks. Tick tock.

And yet, even though the shame pummeled you, you couldn't get rid of me. I don't think you exactly knew why, but something stopped you that one day after you destroyed my sister. You were about to kill me, but something in your mind clicked. No doubt though, if your mother had been still alive, you would have killed me in a heartbeat. I'm still thanking sis for getting pissed off and blasting that clothes store.

Guilt, shame, sadness, emotionless, rage, and shame again. Your expressions tended to skip around. But the thing was, your face never gave anything away. Your mouth was always a frown and your eyes always narrowed. But I could tell everything by looking straight into your eyes. You can't hide from me as long as I can see your eyes.

I think one of my favorites was annoyance. I got that a lot whenever I sang along with the radio. I swear you were about to throw the electronic out the window, but you probably figured it was good because it kept me from talking to you.

Now that I really think about it, I had spent a majority of my time watching you. You were my entertainment as long as I had that blasted wristband on. So I observed you squirming under my piercing gaze. Sometimes you would even try to stare back to get me to go away, but those contests always ended with you walking into another room. Naturally I would wait a few minutes and then follow you. I didn't have anything better to do.

Throughout the silent days that passed, a thought lingered in the back of my head. I had seen a lot of expressions from you, but there was one missing: happiness. I never, ever, saw you happy with the exception of that picture. It brought back the curiosity; what would you look like if you smiled? My sister always said I was too curious sometimes. I just couldn't help but wonder. I tried to transform that grinning ten-year-old in my head into what you looked like now, but the smile didn't fit. It just melted off your face. After all, you had no real reason to be happy so I guess that made sense.

So, I became cozy in your house. I didn't have to do anything; you brought the food and kept the place clean. I could tell you did it all for yourself because you never bothered with my room. I just dumped my dirty clothes onto your pile whenever needed and you would mechanically do your duty. You wouldn't have washed my clothes if I hadn't put them with yours. Of course, I borrowed some of your clothes to wear since I had only arrived with one set. Heh, borrowed, as in "took." You also didn't cook for me; you cooked for yourself. I was just by the sidelines and sneaked in a bite whenever I felt like it. As far as you were concerned, I was nothing but a ghost that didn't need to be taken care of, but a ghost that still scared and haunted you. I think the only few times you truly acknowledged my presence were when we talked. I repeat, "few."

Hate to say, I was content for a few days. I had clean clothes, food when I wanted, a roof over my head, and your wonderful expressions to watch. I just wished you showed fear. I missed that one. That was about the only thing that kept reminding me that I needed to escape.

And then, one night... you just seemed to snap.

~end of chapter two~