Blue Roses

Chapter Two: Monsters

Trunks' blue eyes looked down as he said that. Monsters. Monsters. He was sick of hearing that word! His mother called his father a monster once... he closed his eyes, clinching his fist, remembering...

It was barely three A.M. The green numbers glow on his clock, bright enough to make him squint but not enough to make him groan and close his eyes. That was how he knew it wasn't morning yet.

There was a glow, dim, but he could tell it down the hall. Scratching his head, he pulled a shirt over his bare chest for slight decency in front of who would have to be his mother. He worried so for the woman. She was so delicate, sad, yet seemed so strong. He loved her more than anyone.

He had just realized that this very day. She was so sad... So out of character for herself. As she served him breakfast that previous morning. The food just... dropped in front of him. She was in a daze. Her hair covered her face, had not been washed in days.

Had he not noticed his mother's state? She had been acting like it for weeks. But now... today was more so. It snapped him from whatever world he was in.

Was it about the androids? The metal demons that plagued the world? That made it dangerous to step outside or eat or even breathe? The blonde one, so seductive, so sly, her smirk and her voice cool. He heard her on T.V. Never really saw her, saw fires and blasts hurling at buildings, always seemed to know what they looked like, but never saw them. The male had the same heartless blue eyes with black hair.

He knew nothing about them because there was nothing to know. They were evil. A menace. They hurt and ruthlessly killed millions of people for years and that was all that mattered. Or was he just as bad, for not caring or wanting to hear their story?

But who had a reason to hurt so many people? Who?

He got up, opened his door, and trudged down. His mother's door was cracked open. She insisted on rooming closer to him, incase of an attack and she had to get to him to protect him. He always felt it would be the other way around, him protecting her, but he knew she knew it would be as well. Maybe it was fear... maybe she really would have protected him. Thrown herself in front of the androids and impressed them with some invention...

It would have never worked like that, he was sure, but it didn't hurt to dream. If there was one thing he knew, it was that it didn't hurt to dream. As long as the dream kept sealed deep within you.

She was shaking on the bed, tears rolling down her cheek. They weren't soft tears; they were angry, "You bastard!" Her voice moaned out, "How dare you leave me! With a son! With no one to protect him! You fucking monster! You didn't change! This was your sadistic joke." Her voice became a whisper.

Who was she talking to? His father? Trunks always thought she... loved him... why was she so mad?

"Your joke. You massacred and shed blood; pool after pool but it wasn't enough! Was it, Vegeta? It's never going to be enough! So you found me. Breaking bones wasn't good enough. Cracking skulls, decapitation, wiping out entire races! Monster! You had to break the most vital thing to a person! You broke my heart... my mind... my feelings! You made me love you! THEN YOU LEAVE!" She was shaking, her moans now echoing throughout the house. She was panting, her face red, swallowing, but saliva still ran down the sides of her mouth, colliding with her tears.

Her nose, un-wiped, was running, red as her cheeks and eyes, but she continued to sob... "Monster... I hate you! I'll never forgive you! You leave me with him, to remind me of you. You left me alone..." She was almost inaudible.

Trunks thought it would be better that way. She thought this of him. Something that his father just left her with. Dropped in her lap... she resented him for leaving. Tears threatened but he clinched his fists, forcing himself to listen as she spoke out again.

"Then you made me fall in love with that little boy with blue eyes and lavender hair. With your look, I don't know how or why or what I did, but he has that look in his eyes, that smirk when he's proud. Oh Kami, his pride." Her sobbing gave out... Her words were garbled, and she just lay down, staring at the dark corner, curled in a ball. "Won't forgive you... can't forgive you."

Should he have held her? Should he have cried? He didn't know.

What he did know is that he would never, ever bring that night up.

Was his father really a monster? Every other time his mother said he was proud, strong, demanded respect. Nothing much. Basic details. Not even explained his appearance, though she once said Vegeta was handsome, just like him.

He couldn't picture his father with lavender hair though. Or blue eyes. He tried to remember... had he seen a picture before? Yes! There was one...his hair was like a flame, he stood tall, armor. He looked short, shorter than the many pictures he had seen of his mother's Son-San. That was how she referred to him.

'Son-San' this, or 'Gokou' that. She never gave her father pet names or anything for his father. He couldn't help but be jealous for Vegeta. But his mother never cried, not like that, for anyone else. Maybe her father meant more after all.

He always assumed at one point of time this Gokou, this Son-San that his mother seemed to idolize, the protector of the Earth, a savior, the answer to all that cried out for help, had once been together. He tried to picture the man with a goofy grin standing next to his mother, his arm over her shoulder and with him, an infant in her arms, instead of Gohan and Chichi. That was her name?

He looked much more kind than his father, who looked agitated and was so far to the side that his leg was cut off from the picture.

He, who was standing on the other side of the group, opposite of his mother, him crying in her arms. Vegeta seemed... uptight. Angry, offended at his very presence. Was that the reason he hadn't stood by his mother that day? Did his father really love her?

Was it lust? Was it love? What is just the result of a one-night stand?

He knew nothing of his parents... not his parents, but his parents, the love life. The item.

"Trunks?"

He blinked. Had Gohan been talking this whole while, "Huh?"

"You alright?"

"Yeah." He nodded.

Gohan smiled, but his eyes were still harsh, not towards him... but… something else. Something about him? Or maybe it was just he... 'Maybe I'm just being weird.' It was nothing. "Let's get you back to Capsule Corp, Buddy."

Capsule Corporation was the last place he wanted to be, but he nodded, staring at the boy. The similarities between the man, Gokou, and Gohan were uncanny.

Looking down at the doll, a child who had freshly been murdered, dropped; he kneeled and picked it up. Sighing, he kissed it briefly on the cheek, put it in his pocket, and joined Gohan's side.

Home. Angry. Hurt. Mad. Upset. Children. Death. Tears. Monsters.

He had to control this anger.

Brief edit.