Author's Notes: ... yeah, it's been like... three months since I've updated, but really now! We all need a break once in a while, don't we? ^_^ *gets pelted by tomatoes* ... eheh? ^^;; Seriously though, I've just been majorly obsessed with Lord of the Rings lately, and have been writing a good amount for that. If you're a fan of the books/movies, then be my guest and read some of my LotR ficcies! If not, then... don't. ^_^

I hope I still have Juunana and Trunks in-character for what I've done to them. After so long I lost my grip on them a wee bit; I hope it doesn't show in the future chapters. I'm trying to get my groove back since I swore to myself not to start another chapter story until this one was done, and also to no means would I rush this just to finish it. Side note: if you guys see any errors/typos I didn't catch, tell me and I'll fix it in a jiffy. ^_^

In any case, here's the eighth chapter. It's a bit more light-hearted (*gasp!*) than the past few chapters. Also, for those of you who are still with me even after my long hiatus, thank you very much! I'm glad people like this story so far! It makes me feel so loved, all of these reviews and such. ^_~ And I know I left it at such a major point last chapter, and I probably will THIS chapter too; but hey! It's all in the good fun. In the meanwhile, enjoy and review! *hugs to all*

Another thing I would like to add is a personal thanks to Deani, or Deanybean, for her e-mail and IM about this story. It made me realize that people still read this thing and kicked me in the butt to start working again. Fans are inspiring. ^_^!!

Pairing: Mirai Juunana/Mirai Trunks, shounen-ai

"All You Have"

~chapter eight~

by: Rosalyn Angel

Time slowed, or so I thought. The grandfather clock near us chimed at the late hour, each of its bells in slow motion, low and dragging out as if it was growling at us. I didn't bother to pay attention to it much. I was focused solely on you as your eyes widened, your breath quickened, and your mind worked through my simple statement.

You were my mirror opposite. You were all I had left. If you died, there would be nothing but that damned house. I would be nothing; there would be no one to reflect my image so I could know who I am. I would have no purpose but to be bored, and that was a fate I wasn't looking forward to. So my only option was to make sure you stayed around, that no one took you away from me in any manner, because you were my twin; and I needed you, so I could define myself.

"Mine," I said again, my fingers digging into your skin. You breathed in sharply and I scooted closer, looming over you and closing my body around your back. I wanted you in my sight, so I could make sure you stayed; possessive, obsessive, desperate I was.

And confused, to a certain degree – these emotions, how do I handle them? I had never felt them before, never experienced them. They were human feelings; so how was an android supposed to deal with them? I tried to ignore them, to contain them, but they kept surging through me. I wasn't experienced enough to suppress them. It made me wonder how you could stand having the blasted things, and that perhaps you were stronger than I in that area too.

It made me angry. You did this to me, made me feel these feelings of a human; you made me a weak emotional thing, clinging onto my twin because I didn't want to be alone and bored. How dare you, making me seem weaker, making me confused on how to control it, making me actually feel that possession for you...

My fingers dug harder, nails making little crescent shapes. How dare you make me need you, I thought, you selfish fool. But even if I'm weak like you, I'll show you I'm still in control, that I can handle these emotions as well as any human. No, that I can handle them better.

... deep in my mind, I knew I never would.

******

He is shivering, the cold chilling him to his bones. His teeth chatter, but he does not raise himself from his kneeled position and only hangs his head, making his hair stick to his face. He does not understand why he is so cold; he has a jacket on. It should be protecting him more than it is. Or perhaps it is his own fault. He cannot ignore the snow any longer.

******

You moved to stand, and this time I let you, my arms slipping from your shoulders as you staggered away. Your mouth danced on possible words; and I just watched you, a dazed look on my face. The blood – it was seeping more. You pressed your hand against it on your stomach.

"Th... thanks," you said, fingers trailing along the bandage. It seemed as though you didn't want to acknowledge what had occurred and forced your mind onto smaller things.

You decided to go into your room, so I stood to follow you, keeping you in my sight. I couldn't have you mysteriously dying on me, now could I? I was still in a numb realization then, and I couldn't quite make sensible actions. All I knew was that I had to keep you around for my own needs.

You either didn't bother, or just forgot, to close your door; you appeared shook up to me. Did you understand what you had gotten yourself into, making me feel something for you, a real human emotion? Did you fear it? I wished for you to turn your eyes to me, and show it.

Instead you fiddled around in your desk, searching through papers and books. I leaned against your doorframe casually, looking more curious and thoughtful than anything else. What were you do– oh. You must have noticed the stuff I moved around earlier and were fixing it. You were kind of compulsive like that, had to have your things in just the right way. It was amusing to a point, to watch you bat everything shakily, trying to take your mind off of disturbing memories.

"Don't you have something to do?" you suddenly said without looking in my direction. You were irritated.

Ah, this game, I thought. This is a fun game.

"Maybe I do, but you yourself said I was lazy, so I think I'll just leave it undone," I said, remembering all the little quarrels we had. It wouldn't be too bad, I decided, to live the rest of my life with those little quarrels. I would be entertained and comfortable. Your point of view was probably another story.

The exercise of using my wit began to clear my mind more so I could coldly calculate things again. I was grateful for the argument, and I smirked at you.

"Go listen to the radio," was your not-so good comeback as you walked into the hallway, passing me. "I have to get the food."

Hopefully your battle hadn't disintegrated everything on the ground. I was waiting for something tasty.

"Be my guest," I said, stepping to the side and waving my hand at your path. I was feeling better, able to think more in my usual terms; but that nagging truth was still in the back of my head. You were all I had.

You went outside, frowning at your exit (it was the hole that Cell had made) and muttered something about patching it up later. It happened upon me that all of this (returning to you, considering this life normal, the battle against Cell, and... other things) had been over the course of a single day. No wonder you were so stressed, eh?

I did as ordered and sat myself on the couch that would probably meld to my butt sooner or later, turning on the radio in the process. Much to my dismay there was still static. Cell had killed all the radio people, hadn't he? All the more reason for me to hate bugs. Especially green ones. I'll never forget that freak.

So I sighed and slouched, letting the static fill the room. I didn't feel like turning it off; any type of sound was welcomed right then. It probably made my eyes cross without me knowing it, but ah well.

There was a definite draft in the room from the large hole next to the door, and I was beginning to feel its affects because goose bumps were forming on my arms. I groaned and shifted, lying on my side, then on my stomach, then on my back, until I returned to sitting up and rubbing my arms. Hm, maybe...

I believe you had the weirdest look on your face when you returned with the retrieved bags of food. It was kind of crunched up but your eyebrows were up to your hairline, one slightly arched, and your mouth dropped open a little. I bet you weren't expecting to see your used-to-be most feared adversary with his arms tucked inside his shirt and his legs in the same space like a little android ball. Yeah, neither was I.

"... hi," I said dully, not a bit uncomfortable in my position, or even embarrassed. I got cold and I was taking care of it; there's no shame in that.

The expression fell from your face, but the raised eyebrows remained. "Uh, hi," you said, then went back into the kitchen. You were lucky: you had that jacket. You were warm.

I heard shuffling in the kitchen which was the sound of the food being put away. I sat there, unmoving and cursing the broken wall. But at least I had my twin in the other room.

It took no longer than a few short hours for the sun to set and end my long day. My taste buds were pleased, and we could go on for another couple of weeks with the heap of supplies you had brought back. After putting the food away in their respective cabinets, you had worked on patching the hole with wood, but it was only to be temporary. You eventually bricked it up again and found some way to put more plaster up when the economy grew. Although I could see the discoloration where the hole used to be, I supposed it was a fair job. But you didn't do all that until later, so I had to live with the cold draft that seeped through the wood. Stupid autumn.

In any case, I stood before my bed, memories of the day flashing through my mind. Waking up to you choking me and seeing you, for the first time, as my mirror opposite. Seeing you and considering all of this normal. Seeing you hurt and thinking you could have died and selfishly left me on my own, near panicking and clinging onto you.

You. Normal. Twin. Need.

I shook my head. There was no use pondering it when I should be snoring. Normally then I would yank off my two shirts to go to sleep, but the draft still got to me. I flipped down the covers and literally crawled in, settling my body into the welcoming comfort. Soon the plain blankets were wrapped around me and I was staring at the ceiling. I could hear you getting ready for bed too, since your room was close enough for my ears. There was a shuffle, a click of a light, and then silence. You didn't snore. You probably slept like the dead, not moving at all. I had commented earlier on how I was a restless sleeper.

Everything was dark and I pulled tighter on the blankets. I hate being cold. Probably as much as I hate being controlled... no, not that much. I just hate it.

I turned my head to the window, spying the blinking stars and luminous crescent moon. I couldn't get my mind to shut off for some rest; it was on its damned train of thought again. And it was all your fault, making me think of you like that. But yeah, I'd show you I was still in control. I could handle these foreign feelings just fine. I just needed to learn how.

But enough on the heavy subjects, I thought. How about curing the problem of no warmth?

I could get more blanke– no. You had the rest. And you had your jacket. Well, really I wasn't freezing or anything; it was just a little chilly. But it was enough to keep me awake. I was more sensitive to cold than humans. What a jip.

I threw off the covers with a frustrated growl. The only possible solution was to gather more blankets; you wouldn't let me touch your precious jacket. So I marched off to your room, not-so quietly opening the door, and then stood with crossed arms and a tapping foot. It didn't take you long to notice me.

"What do you want?" you grumbled, sounding half-asleep. Must have been worn out a little.

"I'm taking your blankets," I said plainly, walking up to the bed and looking down at you.

You were on your back, trying to be at ease with your injuries, with your arm across your face. You still wore no shirt except the gauze. You took a moment to frown, blinking your eyes to adjust them to the dark, and then answered: "No."

"I'm cold," I said and reached down to yank them away.

You snapped up your hands and held onto the thin sheets. "Too bad," you said, neither of us in a real witty mood. We were tired, drowsy, and just wanted sleep.

"You humans have stupid body heat," I dully argued back, yanking on them again. "Now hand them over."

"Then sleep near something warm, like a heater."

My hands released the blankets, and I took a second to blink as you grunted and pulled the sheets over your head, muttering for me to get out of your room.

Your electronic heater was broken.

So what did I do? I picked up the corner of the blankets and slid myself into the bed, squeezing into the tiny space between your body and the edge. There was complete silence and you remained hidden under the covers.

"What are you doing?" I heard your muffled voice.

"Sleeping next to something warm," I answered in the middle of a yawn. "You told me to."

There was a ruffle and you scooted closer to the wall, away from me. I frowned at the sudden cold spot on that side.

"... doesn't it make you uncomfortable?" you said quietly, almost nervously. Then your demanding tone returned: "Get out."

"Make up your mind," I said. "You want me to get out and take your blankets, or sleep next to something warm?" I felt you shift and quickly added on: "If you go into another room, I'll just follow you."

I didn't understand why you would be uncomfortable. Was it a human thing again? I just didn't want to be cold, and that was all. You offered a solution, so I took it. I would have to look in your journal papers later to see if you wrote down your thoughts about it.

You didn't answer. Neither option I gave appealed to you, so you just kept quiet and were probably trying to wish me away. After another few moments of silence, me on my back with my hands behind my head, I spoke a warning so you wouldn't kill me later: "I move around a lot."

But you were already asleep.

Morning came quicker than I ever wanted it to. My eyes cracked open and I moaned into the set of pillows that my cheek was pressing into. At first the world was a blur; then I felt warmth, then something soft, and finally a hot puff of wind on my nose. My vision cleared and I saw your face turned to me, rather close, while I was curled up on my side around you with one arm above your and my head, and the other splayed over the unhurt section of your chest. Though you hadn't moved an inch.

... well then, I thought, blankly staring at your face as your breath tickled my skin. Wasn't that something different to wake up to.

I didn't really think much of anything else. Yeah, so I woke up in a rather suggestive position. So what? The only thing I cared about right then was that I wasn't cold. But still, I hadn't been that close to someone unless it was in a battle, either a physical or a mental one. I guess it was a little odd to feel your breath on my skin; to have my arm slightly raise up with every intake of air; to have your hair weave through mine, lavender through black – but still... so what?

I moved out of the bed as silently as I could. I didn't want you to kill me when you woke up. I tended to want to avoid that.

We had basically the same argument every time I was cold at night, and it always ended the same way. I always woke up before you because I simply had to, in order to move before you saw how I unintentionally held onto you while you were sleeping. I usually told you: if you wanted me out, then either you gave up your blankets or fixed the wall. One: you were cold as well. Two: you didn't have the materials for such a job at the time. Thus we were stuck.

Several days passed. Things were as peaceful as they possibly could be with us under the same roof. I watched you more carefully than before. I just couldn't keep that nagging feeling away that I actually felt anything besides anger or sadistic glee towards someone. It made me feel even more on edge and alert around you, to shove down that sudden possessive nature.

See? I was handling it and keeping it under control well enough. I was strong, better than any human. Now if only I hadn't gotten so relaxed on the matter of sleeping next to something warm... I would have woken up before you that one morning.

~end of chapter eight~