Never Lose Hope
By: Saiyan Serpent
Disclaimer: I don't own db, dbz, dbgt, or any of its characters.
Last Time:
Live. That's something he didn't want to do at times. What's the point of living when you have lost so much and failed yourself at every turn? But then he remembered his friend. Gohan would never have given up, so neither would he. Trunks would keep his promise even if it killed him.
Chapter Three: Resistance is Futile
Trunks let out a long breath. His mind was drifting again, pulling him towards the infinite depths of sleep.
He opened his eyes staring at the ceiling above. He was still waiting for his mother to burst through the door, but she did not come. She would certainly give him an earful, but at least it would keep him from falling into the darkened abyss.
Her verbal lashings always had a way of keeping him awake. The wrath of Bulma Briefs isn't one that he'd wish on anyone. Maybe that's what his father had been attracted to when he met her.
She challenged the strongest fighters in the universe where others had not. She didn't use her fists though. Who needed to with a mouth like hers? It brought the strongest of warriors to their knees.
Trunks chuckled at the thought of his father getting the beating of his life by what he would have deemed an inferior weakling. He probably had to take to the skies just to escape her relentless verbal bashing.
Yeah, she was a firecracker. Who else could tame the mighty prince of the saiyan race?
She was strong and determined. That's one of the things Trunks loved about his mother. Many times when he had lost hope, she was there, pushing forward refusing to give into the darkness.
You couldn't keep her down for long. She had this energy about her, always looking to the bright side of things. He didn't know how he could have survived all those years without her.
Yes, he was a powerful warrior, perhaps one of the strongest in the universe, but it didn't matter. His demons were stronger. They could not be defeated with punches and energy blasts. No, these were his greatest enemies, ones born of self-doubt and self-loathing.
Those were the worst kind.
They were seemingly impossible to defeat, but with his mother's help, he sometimes struggled free from their vice like grips. His father would surely criticize him for being so dependent on another living being. He understood his father's reasoning, but he couldn't help it. She was all he had left.
She wouldn't always be there for him and he knew that. It was something that scared him senseless. He loved his mother so much, too much maybe.
He wasn't sure what would happen if he lost her too. That's why he feared his love for her. It was a weakness, maybe his biggest.
His father's weakness had been his ego, where Trunks' was his heart. Once he let someone in, they were a part of him forever. But that also made him vulnerable. His father would certainly protest, and Trunks knew this. Still, he could not change who he was, just as his father could not change who he was.
Trunks knew his father put up a wall for a reason. It was something he had probably learned to create at a young age. He most likely would not have survived all those years as Frieza's pawn without it.
Trunks knew the wall was a protective barrier, and his father's was nearly impenetrable. Trunks understood his father like no one else ever could, especially since his visit to the past.
He was more like his father than he would admit, but he didn't let it bother him. He was created from circumstance, just as his father had been. Circumstance surrounded his being and shaped his life.
The loss he had experienced during his life drove Trunks to create his own wall. It wasn't as strong as his father's, but it was there nonetheless.
Trunks cared about the welfare of others, but he didn't get too close to other people. He couldn't let that happen. His mother was the only one he would allow that kind of closeness. She was always strong enough to get past his best defenses.
He still tried to keep her at a distance though. If she got too close, he would surely collapse in defeat with her loss. That was a risk he could not afford to take, not when he had a promise to keep.
The promise.
It seemed to forever haunt him. In some twisted way, he sometimes saw it as his only reason for living. Well, maybe not his only reason. He would protect his mother until her end came, hopefully of natural causes. Though he didn't like to think of his mother like that, sometimes he couldn't help it.
He went off at times for days, trying to distance himself. He was trying to prepare himself for the inevitable, but it never worked. He missed her too much. This only seemed to prove how much her loss would hurt him in the end.
She must have understood his need to do this, because she never lectured him on his little disappearing acts. Perhaps she understood him better than he gave her credit for. Maybe.
He still felt the need to leave every now and then. He always returned more distraught than when he had left. His love for her only seemed to grow during their time apart. He cursed at himself for letting it happen, but she was his mother. She would always touch his heart in a way no one else could.
In all the darkness, she held a candle to light his way. He wanted to go to her and tell her how much he loved her, but his pride would not allow him. He figured she must know somehow, because she never questioned his love. Still, hearing the words would surely bring her comfort.
She was always there to comfort him, why couldn't he do the same for her? When things seemed dark and depressing, she would be there to shine the light and lift his spirits.
He sighed mentally.
How did he get so lucky? Wait. Luck had nothing to do with it.
He didn't believe in luck. Luck was something you couldn't control like fate and destiny. He couldn't believe that everyone's life was pre- determined; written down somewhere like some petty reminder of their insignificant existence. Trunks believed that people made their own destiny.
He sighed again feeling the pull of sleep growing stronger. He didn't want to sleep though, he wanted to think; just think. He had more control over his thoughts than he did his dreams. There he was left to the mercy of his subconscious, too helpless to fight back. The torture he inflicted upon himself consciously was nothing compared to what his subconscious mind could do and did do.
His eyelids began to grow heavy, threatening to succumb to the enemy. He knew his dreams would probably torture him further, but his body refused to give in to his conscious pleas. Sleep unfortunately was a necessity.
He knew he would eventually fall asleep, left to face his demons alone. It was the only place his mother couldn't help him.
He alone had to endure the endless torment his night's sleep would bring. Though it was not something he looked forward to, he had long ago accepted the misery inflicted by the dream world as punishment for his crime.
Slowly his eyelids were pulled together. He struggled to keep them open, willing himself to stay awake, but it was no use. His body refused to obey, choosing instead to retreat into the subconscious realm. The dim light of the room quickly faded as the curtain of darkness fell once again.