CHAPTER 7

"Mom!" called the fourteen-year old boy from the front door. "I have to go! I can't be late again!"

"Hold your horses, Gohan!" growled his mother from the hallway. The boy recoiled with a frown and a heavy sigh, running one hand through his short, wild black hair. A battle of epic proportions was being fought just outside of the kitchen, and if the whines and high-pitched screams were any indication of its intensity, young Gohan wanted no part in it.

"You're going to make your brother late AGAIN!"

"No, YOU are!" Gohan shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Five years old and already feeling no qualms about having a shouting match with the most frightening woman in the world, Son Ada found herself being dragged by the arm into the kitchen. Chi Chi, her mother, had a tourniquet-tight grip on the girl's wrist and was resorting to force after thirty minutes of arguing with the incorrigible child. Ada was trying to use her feet, clad in tiny white patent-leather shoes, as leverage against her mother's uncommon strength.

"Come…on!" Chi Chi huffed, teeth bared. "You…are…going…to…SCHOOL!"

At that point, Gohan tapped into the source of the argument. His sister was sporting a pink and yellow floral sundress with a matching bow atop her black ponytail. He had to wonder why his mother would even try such a thing.

"ALL GIRLS WEAR DRESSES!" his mother roared, slowly closing the three-foot gap between Ada and the front door.

"But Mommy…what if somebody sees my panties…?!" the girl whined desperately, now using her free hand to latch onto the kitchen table.

"NO ONE WILL SEE YOUR PANTIES! Just don't lift up your dress. It's just THAT EASY, ADA!"

"Mom, we're going to be la-" Gohan jutted in nervously, glancing up at the clock. He stopped short when his mother shot him a glare heavier with the force of a thousand Kamehameha Waves.

Son Ada, stubborn to the end, purposely fell down, planting her face in the floor. Chi Chi glared incredulously at the flowery lump lying before her.

"Get up right now, Ada- RIGHT NOW!"

"Nnnhhhh…" came a low whine from the mass of ebony waves splayed across the wood floor.

Chi Chi, suddenly drained of her will to fight, let go of Ada's arm and collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. She began massaging her temples. "Just…go to school, Gohan."

Gohan bit his lip, his eyes flitting between his sister and his mother, and began walking out the door. "Er…okay…I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, Gohan," Chi Chi replied half-heartedly. After her son had departed, she looked at her impish little girl and sighed. It was not, she knew, that Ada wanted to get her way just to prove she could control her mother, or that she was a bad child. She was just…different…and in need of attention, and perhaps a little lonely. Chi Chi was well aware that, between helping Gohan work through his advanced junior high coursework and keeping the house, there just wasn't time for the girl. At least not as much time as Ada wanted or needed. Part of Chi Chi felt almost debilitating pangs of guilt when she considered how little time she spent with her daughter as compared to how much she had spent with Gohan when he was younger. And yet the woman was convinced the situations were too different to draw a comparison.

Something gnawed at Chi Chi nearly every time she laid eyes on her daughter, an anger of which she was terribly ashamed. It wasn't Ada's fault, of course, but Chi Chi saw in the little girl the gods mocking the destruction of the family she had worked so hard to create. It was a force strong enough to draw her away from her child sometimes. Chi Chi loved Ada, of course, but she did not know how to reach the little girl. She doubted she even had the strength to try anymore.

"I guess we'll try again tomorrow," she said to her daughter with a sigh.

xxx

"I repeat, the androids have moved into West City. Every emergency response team in a several-hundred kilometer radius has been dispatched Pepper City to assist the injured and trapped. Because of this, the West City Chief of Metropolitan Police has released a statement of extreme caution to West City residents. His words are as follows: 'The small number of emergency personnel available is causing a much slower response to reports from more recently-attacked areas. We urge you to take cover immediately if you have not already done so. If you or a loved one is injured, do not leave your basement, crawlspace, shelter, or other covered area; wait for help where you are. Teams are doing their best to tend to as many victims in as little time is possible.' There you have it, folks, a first-hand report of the precarious situation in which we now find ourselves…"

The blasts, which Bulma estimated as being around ten blocks away from the Capsule Corporation complex, had gotten so much more frequent in the last hour that none of the four people now sitting at the Briefs' kitchen table even flinched at the deafening noises. Bulma had not taken her eyes off the radio in twenty minutes, the cup of tea in her hand spilling every once in a while when her hands took to shaking from either anger or fear. Chi Chi merely gnawed on her thumbnail in silence. From time to time, she began to worry about whether Gohan was out challenging those two monsters; these anxiety attacks sometimes lasted for a full minute before reality again set in.

Not until eleven p.m. that night did the radio report the androids' sudden flight from the scene (perhaps, Trunks thought grimly, out of boredom); still, rescue teams recommended staying underground in case of a follow-up attack.

"You know, Chi," Bulma said after hearing this announcement, "you two probably shouldn't go out again until tomorrow; why don't you shack up with us tonight?"

"Oh, that's really very kind of you, but I would hate to intrude, and-"

"Honestly, girl! You think taking the safer route is intruding? Please!" Bulma replied, rolling her eyes and batting the air with a hand. "You and Ada can take Trunks' bed; he just put on some clean sheets."

Within the hour, the house was silent but for the steady, quiet breathing of its occupants. Or some of its occupants, anyway. Trunks, for one, found himself lying awake very, very early into the morning in his pile of blankets on the kitchen floor.

His looming journey into the past was approaching rather more quickly than he expected, and he felt somewhat disconcerted about it. Yes, Trunks wanted to return to help the others defeat the androids and to learn more about them in the process. He was also looking forward to spending some time with his father, even though the two hours he had been around the grumpy man already were less than encouraging. And yet something was gnawing at him, something he couldn't quiet pinpoint. Trunks guessed that it was the conviction that he was needed in his own time. After the conversation with Ada during the ball, he had begun to worry about making another trip in the time machine. What if the desire to stay in the past returned? Would he honestly be able to look at Goku, content and at peace again, after the androids were defeated and the past was made right and not have the urge to stay? Guilt flooded into the warrior's mind as he thought back to the incredulous way Ada had looked at him that night.

Crrreeeeeaaaakkkkk.

Tangled in the mess of blankets, Trunks suddenly jumped up into a sitting position.

"I didn't mean to scare you," came a soft whisper from the hallway. Ada was standing in front of his bedroom, closing the door behind her. She had a quilt wrapped around her and small, dark rings under her eyes. Trunks smiled at her, his heartbeat slowing back to its normal pace; she returned the gesture as she approached him.

"Don't worry about it," he replied, his mood steadily climbing for some reason.

"Mind if I sit?" Ada asked. He nodded, and she joined him atop the pile of blankets strewn across the floor.

"Can't sleep?" he inquired, scooting over a little to give her some more room.

"Not with Mom talking in her sleep all night," she returned with a wan smile. Trunks wondered whether something else was bothering her. "Do you always do this?" Ada looked over at him intently.

"What?"

"Sleep in front of the door when there's a threat?"

"Oh," he said somewhat sheepishly. "Usually, yes. I know it seems a little ridiculous, but I've tried just lying in bed and torturing myself over how there's nothing else I can do. That doesn't seem to work too well, either. I figure if one of these days, they come to finish me off, I can at least keep them away from Mom. " Trunks looked up at the radio in frustration as he finished.

"As long as you're not thinking about fighting them," Ada said with a (relieved, Trunks thought) sigh.

"Why do you say that?"

"I just think it would be best to wait to challenge them until you come back from your next trip. It seems senseless to try before that."

Trunks wondered at her propensity for safety and peace, two things the younger Ada had never really cared to talk about. In her youth, she had wanted nothing else but to fight, and not primarily to stop the androids' destruction like Trunks but rather to prove that she could. Since those days, both he and she had changed dramatically in their motivations for battle and attitudes toward violence. Trunks, on the one hand, had tried desperately to steel himself against becoming emotionally involved where the androids were concerned. His anger at Gohan's death combined with his frustration over the injustices the monsters committed on a daily basis had once made him blind with rage, so much so that it had hindered him in battle. These days, he tried to view it all in a businesslike fashion, something that worried him when, every great once in a while, he felt the slightest tinge of bloodlust. Trunks was ashamed of what he dreaded was a developing brutality within him. According to Gohan, it was normal for anyone with Saiyan blood to enjoy fighting, but Trunks could not help feeling that such a trait showed the nastier part of his paternal side that he would rather have kept in check.

Ada, on the other hand, had grown more comfortable with the idea of life without any destruction, whether it was caused by the androids or by her. She was much like her brother in that fashion, Trunks observed, in that she resorted to violence only as a means to a greater end. He envied her for growing into a more mentally mature fighter while he slid into the throes of instinct.

The silence that then fell between Ada and Trunks had a different feel to it than those previous. It was not, Trunks noticed, the result of an awkward pause or misspoken phrase; the air was not heavy; he did not feel the pressing need to say something quickly in order to salvage the conversation. Rather, as they sat there on the floor, their thoughts turned inward, the quiet of the empty space around them seemed peaceful. Finally, Trunks spoke.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Ada said, rubbing her tired eyes.

"Why didn't you want to go back to the past?" he asked, trying to gauge her reaction to what he knew to be a sensitive subject. Ada looked at the floor for several minutes before finally turning to him. At that moment, Trunks noticed how distant she seemed despite their proximity. It worried him; only hours before she had been fine. Had the girl had a nightmare, perhaps?

"I didn't want to meet him…Goku…" she said softly, pulling the quilt more tightly around her. "I know…that you don't understand that. It would be best to just leave it alone."

"Why not?" Trunks inquired earnestly, completely ignoring the second half of Ada's statement. Her features hardened.

"I said you wouldn't get it," Ada responded.

"So help me try." She wanted to turn away and ignore his plea, but his concern seemed too genuine to disregard.

"You're going to think I'm a terrible person," she prefaced flatly.

"That would be damn near impossible," Trunks thought aloud, letting a few locks of hair fall in front of his cheeks in case the veil of darkness somehow betrayed to her his blushing. Ada sighed, looking at the kitchen wall straight ahead of her.

"As far as I'm concerned," she stated rather harshly, "Gohan was all that I needed. And besides, what kind of a person makes his family live on tournament prize money and handouts from his father-in-law because he doesn't have a job? Or marries someone because he was brow-beaten into it? What kind of a man is that?" Ada was now visibly upset, tears gathering in her eyes. Trunks regretted pushing the issue; her answer left him at an utter loss for words. He sensed that she didn't really believe the things she was saying but was nonetheless troubled by the thought of her father. "I don't want a father; not now. Gohan was enough…" she added breathlessly, gulping back tears, "…and even he left in the end."

Silence thicker than fog. For half a minute, Trunks could think of nothing to say to her, nothing to do that would ameliorate anything the girl was feeling. The remnants of her bitter words seemed to hang in the air; they had been desperately tucked away in Ada for too long to leave so easily now.

"But at least," she began after some time, frowning, "my mother and father loved each other…eventually. I think. There aren't any more love stories." Ada paused, some recollection or other bringing a smile to her face. "When I was a little girl, I was convinced that my brother would get rid of those monsters, that everyone would be happy. That I'd find grow up to look like a princess, I would find my Prince Charming, and he would love me just like in the storybooks. And then I would get married, and ride off with him on a white horse into the sunset…happily ever after." She chuckled a little. "The only stories we have to tell are the ones about narrowly escaping death yet again and living triumphantly to see another sunrise."

Ada glanced quickly over at Trunks and began to blush. "I'm rambling…sorry."

"There's no such thing as fairytales," he said thoughtfully, brushing off her senseless apology, "but there will always be 'happily ever afters'. It's just the nature of people, I think, no matter what the situation. It's all about finding your way to that point."

"Maybe so," Ada conceded, considering with a smile how much the young man beside her had grown into himself, even in the last year.

"Love story or not, as long as feelings are genuine, maybe two people actually have a chance. But if it's going to be substantial, it has to be based on something real. Not just…fleeting lust," Trunks said with a frown, lying back down on the blankets, his fingers laced behind his head. Ada turned and rested her eyes on him, wondering if the mention of her parents had led Trunks to think about his.

"There are those for whom passion is the most intimate emotion they're capable of displaying," Ada replied. "It can be terribly powerful. Of course, I think pure love has a finer quality to it, but passion has its place."

As he listened to her, Trunks found himself again observing the features of her face and the shadows cast across them in the dark. He noticed that, with each word she spoke, a strange and powerful feeling began to grow in the pit of his stomach, and he gulped at the realization that he liked it. Trunks was pulled from his reverie by the quiet yawn of the girl sitting next to him. "I suppose that I should get back to bed."

Trunks, making no audible response, surveyed her carefully. Ada's gestures, movements, and expressions betrayed that whatever had really kept her awake that even was still lingering on the edge of her mind. She seemed almost frightened, perhaps fighting a latent panic of some kind that was waiting patiently beneath the surface of her thoughts until she dared to let her guard down as she dreamt. Whatever the cause of Ada's strange demeanor, it left Trunks feeling disconcerted.

Much to his surprise, however, she did not rise to leave. Rather, she slowly moved to rest her head gently on Trunks' shoulder while allowing one hand to lightly grasp his upper arm for support. The young man felt immeasurable warmth radiate from the points of contact to every inch of his body, and he closed his eyes contentedly.

Trunks felt ridiculous at how such a simple, probably meaningless gesture on Ada's part sent tiny waves of ecstasy through him. She was only a girl, he reasoned, and one to whom he had no special attachment, and yet he desperately wanted her to stay there with him, wanted to take the fear out of her eyes somehow. He marveled at this girl who needed no one and nothing to protect her, who kept to herself, who showed everyone a heart of stone. Trunks questioned whether she had ever let anyone see in her even a touch of vulnerability, and what it meant about the two of them if that was what she was showing him now.

Trunks watched wisps of her ebony hair blowing to and fro in the breeze from the ceiling fan. He explored the uneasiness in her ki and felt inexplicable happiness at the knowledge that it had relaxed almost to normalcy in the several minutes she had been lying up against him. He expected to feel his heart thumping furiously from his proximity to her; but he was strangely calm, even serene. Trunks still felt his ki erupt into chaotic jolts when he was so near to her and wished that she couldn't feel it.

But just then, at that moment, with fire engine sirens sounding in the distance and the outside world fraught with disorder and pain, Trunks Brief could not think of anything but the lovely Ada, who seemed finally to be resting peacefully at his side.

Postscript: I don't have too much to say except that I've rewritten most of this chapter like three times. It's finally where I want it to be, and I'm actually happy with the ending and with where it's headed! Sweet! As we're moving in the general direction of the 'romance' part of the story (No, I wasn't lying in the genre specification!), I thought that I would let you know now right up front that this will not be a lemon story. I know, I know; some of you are probably stalking off grumpily right now, but that's just not my style. There are plenty of good, citrus-y stories out there, but this isn't one of 'em. You'll find out why later- part of the reason is actually tied into the story. The T rating will stay in place, however, in case I get a little creative with the language and because there will be sexual references. Mostly around the time that our hero goes back to the past and spends some quality time with dear ol' dad. I've already written quite a bit of Vegeta's dialogue. It's more fun than the fucking carnival. Now that I've successfully earned the T rating with my blatant disregard for appropriate uses of the 'f-word', I'll quit rambling. But not before I say THANK YOU again to all of my readers and especially to my amazing reviewers!