Chapter Two: His Acts Being Seven Ages

On the whole, if Trunks had to gauge the normality of his childhood, he would conclude that he had seen a few things more than most his age. There was the whole royal heritage and alien DNA on his father's side, and the scientific genius and fame he had inherited from his mother, but there was more than that. There was also the large, built-in group of friends that were close enough to be a family, there was the knowledge that wishes could come true, there was an immediate awareness of the reality of death.

Yet tonight had been strange, even by his standards. His feelings were bouncing all over the place. He had watched Gohan kill Goku, and then his father had shown him much more affection in the past half hour than in Trunks's previous eight years of life, and then some other Trunks had tried to kill Goten and nearly succeeded in killing Gohan and Piccolo was holding him hostage, and—

It was all too much. Trunks felt himself fading and was consciously aware for a split-second that he was going to faint before his emotionally-exhausted body went limp in Piccolo's hand.

Vegeta clenched his teeth. "You didn't do anything to him, did you?"

"Looks like he's just scared," Piccolo grunted. He looked disgusted. "Pathetic. I would've thought you raised a tougher son than this."

"It's not my fault he chooses to spend his time with Kakarot's mentally-deficient little brat. Kakarot and his brats seem to be contagious. Even my son's not immune to it. And neither are you, Namek," Vegeta pointed out. "You have softened a great deal as a result of prolonged exposure to the big half-breed."

"He has a name." Piccolo tightened his grip on the now unconscious little Saiyan in his arms as his mind flew back to Gohan. While a part of him wanted to contest Vegeta's accusation that he'd softened, deep down he knew that it was true. And worse, an overriding part of him didn't care, was even glad of it and proud to be softer. Even the traits that Gohan placed value on had started to replace the Namekian's original motivations—namely, revenge, power, and control. Those didn't seem nearly as important now as companionship and the sheer joy he felt at watching Gohan develop and blossom.

He looked sharply at Future Trunks, who was watching them both with bridled, sullen fury, standing ramrod straight with his hands behind his back. This small measure of control was very different from the Trunks Piccolo now held; obviously, eliminating the threat of the android menace had not eradicated future problems, just altered them into different problems.

"You say that in your time, Gohan and…and Chi-Chi are a threat?" Piccolo asked, thinking of the distraught woman upstairs. Even though she had her fair share of being intimidating, and at the moment she was angry and upset, he couldn't imagine her as a deadly danger.

Future Trunks looked away, his jaw clenching. "Goten too." He sounded like he had to force the words with difficulty, like stating it made him want to throw up.

Vegeta and Piccolo gave Future Trunks their undivided attention. It occurred to both of them that some major events must have happened to turn the child in Piccolo's arms, who had thoughtlessly and immediately rushed to pull Goten out of danger into the man who would just as thoughtlessly hurl a sword at Goten with the intention to kill.

"You want to give us any more details?" Vegeta demanded, crossing his arms. "Did you really expect us to let you eradicate the rest of the Son family like that?" And what could be so bad, Vegeta thought, that you would think that that was the only solution?

Future Trunks's hands balled into tight fists. "You don't know what you're talking about! Goten's death now would be preferable to watching him become the monster that he is in my time."

It chilled Vegeta to hear his son speak of his best friend so coldly. In a way, this future was more alarming than the one with the androids. At least the androids had been a foreign threat, one that the fighters could band together to fight against. What Future Trunks was suggesting was an internal enemy, civil warfare between the Son family and the rest of the Z fighters.

Vegeta took a moment to take in his adult son's appearance. He was not dressed exactly the same way as the alternate version of Trunks had been. It didn't escape Vegeta's notice that this Future Trunks's wardrobe, rather than emphasizing Capsule Corporation, seemed to be influenced by Vegeta's own sensibilities to style, right down to the gloves and boots.

Future Trunks smirked, and Vegeta looked away quickly, angered at having been caught staring.

"You know…you told me your past self would say that," Future Trunks said softly. "But you were the one who sent me back here. This was your idea. You were so sure that this was the only way."

"What?" Vegeta stared. How could that be possible? How could he have advocated murdering Gohan, Goten, and Chi-Chi—and why had he sent Trunks to perform the deed and not gone back in time himself? Everything about the situation seemed more and more incredible and unnerving by the minute. And yet, his son was very clearly there and was not messing around, if the sword that had pierced Gohan's body was any indication.

"That doesn't matter," Piccolo grunted, interrupting Vegeta's train of thought. "Whatever happened in your timeline, we'll prevent. We won't let it reach the point where killing our own comrades is an acceptable resort."

Future Trunks just grinned crookedly, but there was no hope in his eyes. He looked defeated, despite the smile.

Krillin took that moment to drop back in on the scene. His attention was immediately drawn by kid Trunks's limp body in Piccolo's arms and he flashed a questioning look to Piccolo.

"He's just passed out," Piccolo answered the unasked question. "And Gohan?"

"Good as new," Krillin assured him, and turned to Future Trunks, his expression darkening. "Just barely, though, and no thanks to you! What were you thinking, Trunks?"

"I was thinking that an exchange of life has to happen," Future Trunks replied, almost so quietly that Krillin didn't catch it. "And that I was prepared to deal with all that that implies."

Krillin waved the cryptic words away. "I don't get all that mumbo-jumbo, but I do know that if you try to hurt Goku's kids again, you'll have me to answer to, you hear?" Krillin jabbed a thumb toward his chest. "I love those kids like they were my own. Not to brag, but I'm as good as godfather to them….Actually, with Goku gone, I guess I'm acting father 'til he gets back."

"Cute," replied Future Trunks, although, despite his disdain for the human warrior's threat against the full-blown Saiyan who clearly outmatched him, there was a measure of respect in his expression. He gazed solemnly at the three determined, tense faces around him, knowing they weren't sure whether to attack or reason.

Already, Future Trunks knew, his presence had indelibly altered the timeline. The awareness of the danger the Son family posed would now be on the fore of everyone's mind—and there was, of course, this new development of Krillin naming himself Goku's temporary replacement. The stage was indeed set for a very interesting chain of events, one that perhaps would not mirror the tragedy that had befallen them all in his time.

To himself, Future Trunks had to admit that he was more than eager to find a way to prevent bloodshed entirely. He especially didn't want to eliminate Goten. His fists clenched and his expression hardened as he thought of his ex-friend. It had been disconcerting to see him once again in his youthful, innocent state, true, but Trunks wouldn't hesitate to do what needed to be done to keep the sociopath who had reared his ugly head from appearing and hijacking the mind of the person who used to be his best friend.

"Listen up," he snapped, grabbing the adults' attention. "I'll be sticking around here for a while. I'll keep an eye on the Sons and try to prevent anyone's death." He looked down for a moment, collecting himself. Then at last he offered a small smile to Vegeta with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "You wouldn't mind putting me up, would you, Dad?"

Goten watched as Gohan paced back and forth, practically tearing his hair out. He tilted his head, curious as to how Gohan could have so much energy just after nearly dying. There was so much to think about that it overwhelmed Goten's still-sleepy mind, and he stifled a yawn as he rubbed a burning eye. Mostly, he hoped Trunks was all right.

Gohan for his part felt pent-up energy bursting inside him and demanding to be released. He felt the familiar surge of the urge to transform into a Super Saiyan and suppressed it, grimacing. It wouldn't do to unleash all the power that would come with the emotion-fueled transformation on the Lookout. The concrete would be no match for the ancient, primal extraterrestrial power that flowed, simmering, in Gohan's veins.

Now Gohan knew how his mother felt whenever he and his father left her behind to challenge a villain in combat. He had not anticipated this helplessness, this frantic anxiety, the torture of not knowing. The first time Gohan had turned Super Saiyan it had been because he'd mentally tortured himself, allowing painful memories of being weak wash over him. He'd consciously focused on the guilt and grief he'd experienced when, time after time, his friends and family had fallen so that he could live, made worse by the fact that they didn't even blame him. Despite what he deserved, no one had ever treated him like a liability, like the virus that had attacked the Z fighters from the inside. He had achieved the Super Saiyan form out of sheer desperation to turn things around, be the protector instead of the protected. Even though the love of fighting was in his blood, it had been diluted by his pacifist nature. But his love for his friends had been enough to cause his potential to come crashing over him.

And now…being forced to wait again, while someone else fought his battles for him. While his mother lay vulnerable and depressed. While his father lay dead, by his hand.

Gohan felt rage building up inside him. He wanted to scream, and break every fixture on the Lookout with his bare hands. Especially that damn Hyperbolic Time Chamber, a place that only brought painful memories now. He had trained there with his father; it was there that Goku had decided that Gohan had surpassed him in strength; it was there—as early as then—that Goku had decided to misplace his faith in Gohan. Goku had been right, of course, about Gohan's strength. But he had overestimated Gohan's strategic planning, his ability to separate his emotions from the fight and step back to see the big picture. It was in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber that Goku had sealed his fate. Gohan clenched his teeth to the raw emotions surging in him once again. He knew he couldn't give in, but—god, it wasn't fair! During peacetime, the peacetime that his father had worked so hard to bring about, he, Gohan had sown the seeds of chaos and discord. Some son he was to the protector of the earth.

"Hey, Gohan?"

Gohan was jerked out of his thoughts by his brother's groggy voice. Realizing that he'd neglected his brother, he knelt down swiftly at Goten's side, giving the boy his full attention. "What is it?"

"What'd Krillin mean? When he talked about Dad's memory? And you kept sayin' something about him being in Otherworld…Were you saying that 'cause you were confused?"

Gohan froze. Goten had been more perceptive than he'd given him credit for. His large, worried eyes studied Gohan's face.

Finally, Gohan lied, "I don't remember that."

"You don't?" In Goten's face and voice was all the hope in the world that his big brother could make everything all right with the world.

Gohan didn't know what to do. He didn't know if he was doing the right thing. It seemed unnecessary to burden Goten with the news of Goku's death when he wouldn't be gone for much longer. If possible, Gohan was determined that his brother not experience the sort of pain and horror he'd had to go through as a child. So far, so good…though his stomach was queasy at the notion that he had to lie to him to give him a happy childhood. That in the Son family the only two options were blissful ignorance and a shield constructed of lies, or constant pain, fighting, carnage, and death.

Goten stretched. "Well, I don't really get it. Do you think Trunks is okay?"

And just like that, he'd changed the subject. "I think so, Goten. Piccolo wouldn't hurt him," Gohan said with confidence. That he really was sure of. The green skinned warrior was less frightening than his pointed teeth, sharp nails, and permanent scowl would indicate. It had been a long time since Gohan had even considered Piccolo dangerous, not after the huge help he had been in both Gohan's personal life and in his training, not after all the times he'd saved Gohan from certain doom, not after all the time they had spent together. Trusting Piccolo was a safe bet.

"And that tall guy with purple hair—that was Trunks too?" Goten asked, his eyebrows drawing together.

"Well…" Gohan hesitated. "Kind of. From another timeline, though."

A light patter of feet descending on the Lookout grabbed Gohan's attention. He turned to see that Krillin had returned, looking uncertain but unscathed.

In seconds, they were both at Krillin's side, hungry for details and tripping over their words in a haste to get all the questions out.

Krillin laughed. "Hey…ambushing's no fair, you two!—It didn't erupt into violence, thank Kami.—Yes, Goten, Trunks is just fine. Unconscious, but okay.—Future Trunks is staying with his family at Capsule Corp for now, and he said he'd keep tabs on you, but he doesn't seem to think killing is the only way anymore."

Gohan's mood lightened with every answer. Good, this was all good! No one was hurt, and it looked like it could stay that way.

With the excitement over, Goten wrapped an arm around Gohan's leg, stuck the thumb of his other hand into his mouth, and gave into exhaustion, soon snoring gently. Gohan looked down and felt a surge of fondness, and he picked up his brother, letting Goten's head rest on his chest. He yawned himself. With everything that had happened, he had almost forgotten it was the middle of the night.

He knew he'd better get himself rested, and not worry about anything more until the next morning when his body and mind were refreshed and able to work with maximum efficiency.

Waving a goodbye to Dende, Gohan followed Krillin back home.

Bulla blearily squeezed her eyes shut against the harsh sudden light of the refrigerator, cracking them open slowly again as they adjusted. There were lots of options for her midnight snack, but though she was hungry, nothing seemed appetizing to her. She wasn't quite in the mood for fruit, she didn't feel like making a sandwich…Mentally, she ticked off the things she wasn't going to eat, and all the while her stomach mocked her with gurgles and grumbles.

Just as she had decided on some dry cereal, bemoaning the fact that she had unnecessarily nearly burned her eyes out of her sockets, she felt a powerful presence headed straight toward the house. She immediately stiffened and focused on it, but relaxed after a moment, recognizing her father's unmistakable energy signature.

Then she frowned. She'd assumed her dad was asleep in bed. Where had he been so late? She decided to crouch behind the sofa and investigate.

She didn't have long to wait until she heard the key in the lock. The front door opened to reveal her father's figure, a bundle in his arms, and, to Bulla's surprise, another man beside him. In the darkness, it was difficult to make out features, but the ki was unfamiliar. Bulla didn't know her father had any friends.

Vegeta stumbled in the dark and muttered a curse. "Come on then, brat. There's a guest room down the hall, but don't expect any special accommodations!"

Brat? Bulla wondered. She'd never heard her father address anyone except her brother with that particular insult. Then her eyes widened. Guest room? Was the stranger staying with them for an extended period?

"Wouldn't expect anything less, Father," came the murmured reply, and Bulla felt a physical shock jolt through her body.

She didn't know exactly what was going on, but she was going to find out. And then she was going to call Marron. Her best friend had to know all about this illegitimate older brother. She smiled, already formulating possibilities in her head. Marron would be so jealous of such a dramatic turn of events in her life. This was a gossip goldmine.