Chapter Three: A Modest Proposal
Bulla snickered and sat back on the plushy chair, as she eyed her brother. She thought that this was perhaps the most uncomfortable she'd ever seen Trunks in her life. He was avoiding the serious gaze of the older Trunks across the room and looking more and more like he wanted to sink through the floorboards. The delicious discomfort…Bulla filed this away to add to her notebook of Ways I Will Eventually Kill Trunks that she kept. Number 361: Utter Embarrassment.
"So, apparently things have gone wrong in the future again, and once again, my son has taken it upon his shoulders to make things right," Vegeta was explaining.
Bulla's mother, Bulma, nodded as if all this made perfect and unsurprising sense. She was sitting on the floor with her knees bent and her arms wrapped around her legs, rocking slightly as she stared up at the future version of her son.
Future Trunks blushed under the scrutiny. "Can I help you?" Bulla recognized the brash tone and cadence of her brother's discomfort in the alien, deeper stranger's voice, and she raised a brow.
Bulma grinned. "I can't help it! It's not every day a mom gets a sneak peek at what her baby's gonna look like! I mean, I got a preview before, but I guess that doesn't really count since it wasn't the Trunks of this timeline. I gotta say, you grew into quite a looker! Even more of a stud than when androids killed everybody, that's for sure," she told him enthusiastically with a wink.
"Mom!" kid Trunks complained.
Bulla glanced at him. She'd been wondering if he'd ever speak up.
"Is that really appropriate?" Future Trunks said gruffly.
Bulma put her hands on her hips. "Well, excuse me for complimenting my only son! I can't help it that you're the striking image of the man I married…with some improvements from my side of the family, of course!"
Deciding to save her brother from the heart attack he seemed to be on the verge of experiencing and her…future brother from the conniptions that threatened to overtake him, Bulla cut in, "What about me? Why didn't my future self come back from the past too?"
"That's right; good question," Bulma said, nodding to her daughter. "Why you, Trunks? I mean, in the other timeline, there wasn't anyone else left to come back. You'd think with everyone alive…"
"Is everyone alive, boy?" Vegeta snapped, fixing Future Trunks with a deathly glare. "Or is there something you haven't told us?"
Future Trunks pinched the bridge of his nose. "There's lots I haven't had the chance to tell you, Dad. And no, not everyone's alive. For one, Goku never came back—"
"What?" Bulla screeched before she could stop herself. She was surprised by the primal sound that had escaped her throat, but she had been thoroughly shocked. Goku was the one person she didn't expect to fall. He was strong, stronger even than her dad, though she hated to admit it.
Vegeta nodded solemnly, his jaw clenching. "Kakarot was killed last night."
Bulla felt her jaw, contrary to her father's, slacken and drop, and she could see that her mother had an identical expression. She turned to gauge Trunks's reaction to the news—to find that his face hadn't changed a bit. Not even so much as a flinch.
How could that be? "Didn't you hear him, Trunks?" Bulla gasped breathlessly, her amusement forgotten. "That's Goten's dad!"
Now Trunks really did flinch. "You don't have to remind me of that."
Bulla's stomach twisted. She felt dizzy and gripped the arms of her chair, glad to be sitting.
Bulma found her voice. Though it was shaking, she managed to ask, "What happened to him?"
Future Trunks and Vegeta exchanged glances, as if trying to silently decide between the two of them how to relay the news as delicately as possible.
Before either could make a move to answer, though, kid Trunks blurted out, "Gohan killed him! I was there. I saw the whole thing." A shiver ran through Trunks's body, and the knot in Bulla's stomach tightened. "It happened, and it sucked, but can we please stop talking about it?"
Bulma stood and crossed to the sofa Trunks was perched on. She sat beside him and scooped him into her arms, and for once, he didn't protest.
"Goku's death was the entire catalyst for the future I'm trying to prevent," Future Trunks said coldly, in stark contrast to his shaken former self. "Gohan's decided to keep it a secret from Goten for now, and that's probably for the best. Goten…was the worst affected of the surviving Sons."
Trunks turned sharply to his future self, his misery momentarily forgotten. "What happened to Goten?"
Future Trunks shook his head. "There's no need to go into detail. It's not going to happen. But Bulla, as for your question—why you didn't come with me. Let's just say you and I are on opposite sides of a civil war." He looked at her with such serious blue eyes. "It came down to choosing between me and Goten. You picked Goten. Last time I saw you, you were trying to kill me."
Bulla's eyebrows rose so high they disappeared behind her bangs. Kill him? Actually kill her brother? She knew she kept that notebook of potential ways to kill Trunks, but she'd never really enact any of those plans.
Bulma frowned. "Is that so? Well, young lady, just know right now that attempting to kill your brother is going to get you seriously grounded."
Despite the gravity of the situation, Bulla laughed. It all seemed so absurd. "I'll keep that in mind, Mom."
Future Trunks quieted, watching the lighthearted banter of the Briefs family unit of this timeline, the underlying close bond threading them all together. His shoulders relaxed, his tense muscles loosening. He had almost forgotten this. Through all the talk of prevention and desperate measures and revenge, he had lost sight of what he was fighting for.
He stood abruptly. "I'm going to go train in the gravity chamber. No such thing as being too prepared, right?"
Vegeta smirked. "So that did finally catch on. Seems my son won't always be a lazy lie-about."
Future Trunks's hard expression didn't waver. He ignored his father and headed straight for the Capsule Corporation's specialized training room without so much as a request for permission.
Bulma craned her head, looking after him. "Well, okay, but don't work all the time like your dad! All work and no play makes Trunks a dull boy!" Her words appeared to fall on deaf ears, as Future Trunks's pace didn't even falter. "Hey! I'll bring you some snacks later, okay?"
Future Trunks made it to the entrance of the chamber and ripped off his glove, placing his palm on the sensor. His DNA was identified and the doors slid open. He stepped inside without a glance at his mother or any indication he'd even heard her.
Bulma sighed and shook her head. "He certainly has more of you in him than the other timeline's version did, Vegeta. Though," she added thoughtfully, "his attitude is similar. So driven and sad."
"I suppose that's simply the way Trunks reacts to trauma," Vegeta replied. "Whether it be at the hands of the androids or the hands of the Son family."
Trunks looked from one parent to the other. They were talking about him like he wasn't even there. Well, not really him him, but still—! He stood up, the room suddenly feeling too enclosed. He had to get far, far away from that stranger with his face who had tried to kill Goten. He just felt sick, shaky, and overwhelmed—not at all as a young prince should. For once, he was unsure of himself, which was most un-Trunkslike.
But seeing this other "Trunks" made it impossible for him to be sure of himself anymore.
"I'm gonna go visit Goten," he announced quickly, hoping his voice didn't come across as panicky.
From the disapproving scowl on his father's face, he suspected he hadn't hidden his feelings too well.
But his mother said, "That's a good idea. Poor dear could use some company after what just happened." She smiled at him. "You're a good friend, Trunks."
Trunks gave a jerky nod, feeling even worse. The fact that Goten had just lost his father hadn't even crossed his self-centered mind.
"I'm coming too," Bulla said, walking up beside him. She winked. "Don't worry. I have no plans to kill you."
Yet.
They were all thinking it. Future Trunks's warnings lay pregnant, hanging heavily in the air above them, pressing down like a literal oppressive weight.
How was it that the man separated from them now by a wall of metal, fiercely training and probably heating up the room he was in, had managed to seem very present among them, and had made the air in his wake seem cold?
Bulma broke the spell. "Have fun!"
Though Gohan had managed to remain asleep the whole night long, his rest had not been peaceful. Blearily, he trudged to the bathroom and inspected his face in the mirror. His skin was pale, which only served to emphasize the prominent bluish-purple circles, like bruises, under his eyes.
I look terrible, Gohan admitted to himself miserably. Like…
And he didn't want to complete that thought, but it had begun. There was nothing to be done now.
Like death.
Way to go, subconscious, Gohan thought snidely. The absolute last thing I wanted to think about.
He turned the sink faucet and scooped some water into his hands, splashing it into his face. The water dripped from his hair and down his cheeks like tears, but Gohan's eyes remained surprisingly dry. There were no tears. There was only emptiness.
For the first time, he, Gohan had—
No. Gohan squeezed his eyes shut and tried to tell himself that it was because the water was stinging them. He couldn't pursue this train of thought; he certainly couldn't. Everything was going to be okay—
Dad always said. He stumbled back from the sink, not heeding the rushing water tumbling, unused, down the drain. He couldn't hear it over the rushing in his ears. His head was pounding. He shook his head, to no avail. The thoughts continued to plague him, each one the vicious sting of a wasp.
Dad always made me feel like everything was going to be okay…
Where is Dad now?
His vision swam. He gripped his face so hard that it was almost as if he was trying to rip it right off of his skull. For an insane moment, he wanted to do just that, and not to stop there. He wanted to tear all the flesh off his bones, destroy himself until there was nothing left but a lump of messy flesh on the floor.
Because that's all he was. A mess. A useless lump. And now, now, for the first time—
No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no…
He'd directly murdered his father.
A low moan escaped his lips.
His mother had looked at him like a monster, and why not? He was the one who had taken the love of her life away, who had always taken him away. And though he had always tried so hard to protect Goten, it had never occurred to him that the one Goten needed protecting from was, well…
Thump. The sound of Goku's lifeless body hitting the cold floor as Gohan desperately tried to hide his bloody crime.
Thump. The sound of Goku's final heartbeat right before Gohan had murdered him. Gohan felt his own heart lurching painfully. His face heated up and the liquid running down his face felt like hot blood. He could clearly remember the steady pulsing beneath his palm, the warm source of pure love, and honor, and courage that his father had always possessed. The source of his very life had laid, so trustingly, so innocent and vulnerable, right underneath Gohan's hand. And with one rash decision, Gohan had snuffed out that life.
Thump. The sound of Gohan's sanity as it shattered and fell in pieces to the floor at Gohan's feet.
And still, there were no tears, just the sound of running water, and the boy hunched in the corner of the bathroom with skin as pale as death and hollow eyes.
Goten hopped from one foot to the other in his impatience. He knew Mom didn't like him to go down for breakfast without washing his face, but Gohan was taking so long in there. He didn't usually take that long, and Goten was about to pound on the door and complain, but then he remembered Gohan's close scrape with death last night. Maybe he was still weakened from that? Goten reluctantly withdrew his fist, but that didn't stop him from being frustrated.
The smell of breakfast was wafting upstairs and Goten's stomach growled in response. He glanced at the closed bathroom door. The tap still seemed to be running. Goten reasoned that since it had been so long that usually he would have been washed and downstairs by then, his mother probably wouldn't notice if he skipped washing just this once!
Grinning, he zipped down the stairs and barreled into the kitchen. "Hi, Mom! What's for—" He cried out in shock, the end of his question dying in his throat.
Krillin spun around and screamed in response to Goten's shrill cry.
Goten had flown about eight feet in the air and was clinging to the light fixture. "Krillin? You're not Mom!"
Krillin looked himself over and then chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. "I guess not, last time I checked."
Goten slowly descended to the ground, calming down. "Sorry, Krillin. It's just—you weren't who I was expecting." But Goten's questions all melted away as he looked around at the spread before him. Juicy, sizzling ham, fluffly scrambled eggs, soft buttered rolls…it took every ounce of control Goten had to not start drooling there on the spot. "I'm hungry!"
"Well, you've come to the right place." Krillin grabbed a plate and heaped a Saiyan's share of food onto it while Goten's eyes gleamed. "There ya go!"
"Thank you!" Goten ripped into the food immediately and in record time had his plate licked clean and was back requesting a second helping.
Krillin shook his head. He was glad he'd made so much food. He knew enough to do so by now. He'd been best friends with Goku since childhood. His mood darkened. Goku…
As Goten worked on his fifth serving, light footsteps sounded on the stairs. Krillin turned to see one satin shoe emerge from the stairway. Then, out of the shadows, the entirety of the woman became visible.
Chi-Chi's posture was slumped, her hair pulled up into a messy bun. The haphazard appearance seemed to humanize her, much more so than the prim and proper façade she usually insisted on projecting. She didn't appear to have the energy to masquerade now.
She froze as she saw Krillin, then let out a breath that she must have been holding. Her eyes dulled, her body relaxing. "Krillin."
"He made us food today! It's really good!" Goten told her enthusiastically as he polished off his current plate. "I'm all done, though. You and Dad and Gohan are being slowpokes today!"
Chi-Chi's eyes widened and she stiffened. But all she said was "Well, if you're through, go get dressed."
"Mm hm!" Goten deposited his empty plate into the kitchen sink and scampered back upstairs.
Which left the kitchen in an uneasy silence. Chi-Chi's coal-black eyes, already usually guarded, seemed blank and expressionless. There was no smile of greeting on her face, nor anger, nor distaste. Krillin was disturbed. This was the first time that he'd ever seen absolutely nothing in Chi-Chi's expression, no telltale glint or fire in her eyes, no little quirk of her lips, or twist of her nose, or crease between her eyebrows, or wrinkles on her forehead or chin. She was totally unreadable.
It was almost as if Goku wasn't the only one to die last night.
"You hungry?" Krillin asked, running a hand through his newly-grown patch of hair. "I could fix you a plate."
"I didn't ask for your help." Chi-Chi's voice lacked inflection, but that made it all the more chilling. "I didn't give you permission to stay the night."
Krillin smiled, trying to disarm her. "Well, with everything that's happened, I just thought it might be better for you to have a Z fighter in the house with you. Safer. I care about the kids…" He trailed off, unsure of how to complete the thought.
"You're not—" She flinched, her breath hitching. "You're not Goku."
Krillin bowed his head, surprised by an unwelcome flash of resentment at her words. He briefly shook his head to clear it. "I've heard that ever since we were both students under Master Roshi," he told her steadily. He frowned. When he'd opened his mouth, that wasn't what he'd expected to come out. But now it was done. "I know that by now."
Chi-Chi sat down at the table and looked away, out the window. Through the panes, clear blue skies were visible, and a magnolia tree, its leaves fluttering ever so slightly in a gentle breeze. But it looked like Chi-Chi's gaze went even farther away, to some place darker and stormier.
"I've lost Goku before," she said.
"But this time you've lost Gohan too," Krillin returned without thinking. Immediately, he cursed himself. What a stupid thing to say! As if he could presume to tell Chi-Chi what she was feeling. But he had caught her interest, or at least, she'd turned her head his way. He had to say something more. "And you've lost the one thing you thought was always secure, your trust in your family. Something that you formed your entire identity around." Krillin was babbling now, but as he said these things, he became more and more aware of their truth. "Last night, you lost yourself too."
Chi-Chi abruptly stood, so quickly that her chair clattered to the floor. She didn't seem to notice. "You don't know anything about this!"
Krillin felt himself getting angry. He wasn't sure if he was angry at her, but it was a feeling he couldn't repress, and right now, she was the only person around. "Maybe I know more than everyone gives me credit for! And maybe…maybe you're afraid to admit it."
"You think I have any reason to be afraid of you? You think anyone has any reason to be afraid of you?" Chi-Chi's face was hovering somewhere between pain and rage, but she didn't seem to be able to quite decide which. "You, whose most useful contribution against Frieza was getting killed and unblocking the Super Saiyan technique from Goku's mind—"
"That's enough!" Krillin gritted his teeth and grabbed her by the arms.
"You," Chi-Chi continued hysterically, her voice almost a shriek, "who was so desperate to be loved that you latched onto a machine! A manmade construct of metal and bolts. Who is only not killing you because she has faulty programming—!"
"I said enough!" Krillin roared. He was gripping her so tightly that he was sure he would leave bruises on her skin, and somewhere deep inside a part of him protested, but he was too furious to pay that part of him any mind. "If you'll recall, ma'am, the only reason Goku didn't kill you is because his original programming got knocked out of him with a bump on the head. You of all people should know the value of getting a few wires crossed."
"Don't talk about him that way," she whispered.
"That's it, isn't it?" Krillin finally released her in disgust, walking back to the stove. "You don't want to be told the truth. You just want a bunch of comforting lies. Because you can't face what happened. No—because you can't face the fact that you can't face what happened."
Chi-Chi unsteadily leaned down and righted the chair she had unsettled. Anything to give her hands something to do. Anything to occupy her mind. Anything to stop her from exploding. She focused on straightening the chair so it would exactly match the one opposite of it.
Krillin watched her, and though he knew she was hurting, he was feeling uncharitable. He came out and said it. "Goku's dead."
Chi-Chi's back was to him. She pretended like she hadn't heard. He knew she had.
"The man of your household isn't here anymore. Right now, you need that void filled. I know you didn't ask for my help, but you needed it, so I gave it without being asked. Because Goku was my best friend, and that's what friends do." He turned back to the food and poked at the ham with the spatula. "I'm staying, you know. Until you're ready to transition to a life without Goku."
"I forbid it." Chi-Chi's voice was firm, cold. "I want you out of here."
Krillin didn't turn. "I don't care."
"It's my house!"
"It's Goku's house," Krillin retorted.
"No, it's mine. I bought it."
"With Daddy's money?" Krillin asked bitterly.
Chi-Chi spun around and marched to where Krillin stood. She was on the verge of hot, angry tears that she refused to shed. "Do you think you know what's best for me and the boys just because you were Goku's friend?"
"I just know what's best for me," answered Krillin calmly, turning to look her in the eye. "I know it's best for me not to leave Goku's children after such a traumatizing event just happened in their lives. I know it's best for me not to let you turn into whatever Future Trunks was afraid you would. I won't leave you to mourn alone, Chi-Chi. We would've both done our grieving separately anyway, right? For both of us, a big part of our life is gone. What's the use of being apart and feeling the same way, when we could commiserate? When we could find strength from each other? Chi-Chi—" He reached up and turned her face back towards his, his voice softening. "You're alone so often, aren't you? In worry, in stress, in sorrow, in grief. We all tend to forget about you, and I'm sorry. You're so proud. But you don't have to bear this burden alone. I'm going to help you whether you let me or not, but if you let me…maybe we can do this a little less painlessly."
Somewhere inside, a dam burst inside Chi-Chi, and she could no longer contain the floodgates. She collapsed, her body wracking with sobs.
And he held her, thinking of Eighteen and Marron, and Gohan and Goten, and Goku, and finally this warm, shaking woman, so broken and helpless in his arms, and—oh god.
Nothing good could come of this.