CHAPTER 20

Ada sat among the remaining baskets of produce, counting the leftovers from the morning's trading. A few potatoes, two heads of cabbage, a pound or so of onions. The tomatoes had been snatched up early, as had the carrots, the ginger root, and the cucumbers. The young girl silently congratulated herself on a few particularly choice trades she had made, including one for several old paperbacks – her early thirteenth birthday present to herself – which she had already tucked safely away into her jeans. If her mother found out, there would be hell to pay.

She heard the pitter-patter of rain on cement and looked up. Thankful for the shelter of the collapsed overpass, Ada began gathering up the last of the goods. Most of it would keep until the next market gathering. The rest would make for dinner that week. Cabbage soup. Mmm.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Ada turned to find a woman looking hesitantly at the very cabbages she herself had just scorned.

"They're very good," Ada said, dispensing with formalities. "Would you like some?"

The woman, who was carrying a small child, smiled wanly and shook her head. Her face was drawn and thin. Ada tried to guess her age. She could have been twenty-five or forty-five for all that Ada knew. Wrinkles lined her eyes and mouth, but that was no great indicator these days. Shifting the child, who was barefoot and somewhat underdressed for the cool weather, the woman spoke.

"I was just looking. But thank you."

"I'll trade for almost anything," Ada spouted, her eyes shifting from the toddler to its mother. "Really."

The woman said nothing as she looked at Ada, her face blank. Nodding, she gave Ada that sad smile again.

She doesn't have anything to trade.

As the woman turned and began walking away, Ada bit her thumbnail and looked around for her mother. Chi Chi was some ways off, talking to another vendor. The girl quickly stuffed an armful of potatoes into the bag of remaining cabbages before tying it up. She hoisted it over one shoulder and jogged to catch up with the mother. Stealing furtive glances to the right and left, Ada shoved the bag into the woman's empty arm.

The woman looked from the sack to Ada, then opened her mouth. Nothing came out. That was just as well, Ada thought as she stepped back and then turned to walk away. Talking would have made things awkward.

As she made her way back to her own pile of things, Ada realized she should have told the woman to keep quiet. She and her mother couldn't afford to have people coming to them for handouts. Turning to watch the woman duck into an alleyway – one of the two that led toward the entrances to Lowtown – Ada supposed she hadn't needed to. The woman and her child would be eating this week, and the next, because of Ada; she wouldn't repay the young girl by talking. Besides, no one in the city asked questions. Probably to avoid hearing the answers. Where and how you got your food was your business.

Ada gathered up the day's loot – several pounds of flour, a bit of sugar, tea, a tiny jar of yeast, some salt, a dozen eggs, a box of powdered milk, four candles, a box of matches, and the two things she was really proud to have gotten: a small bag of cocoa and four light bulbs. Overall, a successful market day. Chi Chi would be happy; or, as close as she ever got to being happy, now that Gohan was gone. 'Mildly pleased' seemed more appropriate.

Just as Ada's thoughts wandered away from her mother, her mother wandered over to Ada.

"How did you do?" she asked. Ada pointed out the profits of her trade, and Chi Chi nodded. The woman had been making rounds at the stalls of various people they had come to know, cutting deals of her own. Her arms were full of sundries from said deals, and she dropped them into one of the empty produce baskets.

"I didn't do too badly myself. Let's head over to Capsule Corporation."

Ada nodded and began loading everything into the back of her grandfather's old hover car. She then hopped into the passenger's seat and buckled herself in.

"Bulma's going to wish we had some more left over. Oh, well," Chi Chi sighed, starting the car.

Ten minutes later, the car alighted on the lawn of the destroyed Capsule Corp. main building. As Chi Chi and Ada got out, Bulma Brief hurried from her basement home to greet them, a sullen-looking Trunks in tow. The rain had slowed to a chilly drizzle by the time Bulma reached them.

"Hey there! Good market day?" the former heiress asked with a smile.

"Yeah – not a lot left for you, though," Ada responded.

"You know that's not what's important," Bulma chided, pulling Ada into a hug of greetings.

It was the truth, Ada knew. She and her mother gave Bulma the fruits of their garden out of friendship, not necessity. Money counted for nothing anymore, but Bulma had marketable skills as well as warehouses full of electronic gadgets that would fetch a great deal in trade. Ada and Chi Chi had neither. The sizeable garden they kept – and the occasional voluntary kindness from Bulma – was their livelihood. Without it, they would be destitute.

Bulma and Chi Chi began chatting then – about the weather, the market, the recent attacks in the southern capitol – as though nothing in the world were wrong. It made Ada a little sick to her stomach to hear them, to see Bulma's cheerfulness (though it was most likely feigned), to watch people living like her brother was still alive and there was still some kind of hope in the world. She walked away, hands stuffed in her pockets, and kicked at a chunk of concrete that had probably come off the building behind her.

Though Ada's back was turned to him, she could feel Trunks slowly approach her.

"What happened to your head?" he blurted, smirking a little.

Ada wheeled around and glared at him. "Why do you care?" She had been avoiding mirrors for the last week and didn't need anyone to remind her how ridiculous she looked. Her hair had been lopped off at her shoulders, but one side hung at least an inch and a half longer than the other. It was shorter in the back than the front, and most of her ebony locks seemed to be punctuated by scissor marks.

"Because you look like you got run over by a lawn mower," he grinned devilishly.

Ada opened her mouth to blurt some derisive comment or other at him but found that she just…didn't feel like it. She fingered the ends of her destroyed hair and looked down at her feet. Did it really matter if he knew? Maybe it would make him stop taunting her.

"Mom was combing my hair one night, but it was really tangled…she got really upset, like she does now, you know…and just chopped it all off." And then she started sobbing and locked herself in room for two days. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Trunks' expression softened. Ada knew he thought Chi Chi had gone crazy. Sometimes, Ada was afraid he was right. From the moment she had seen Gohan's body…her mother hadn't recovered. Maybe she never would.

Trunks seemed to be at a loss for what to say; Ada, frankly, didn't want to hear any more from him. She was turning to walk back to the car when she heard, "With those clothes on, it makes you look like a boy." She surveyed herself briefly. The shirt was a bit big, and the skateboarder that adorned the front of it was fading badly. Her jeans were baggy and grass-stained, and her tennis shoes had a small hole in the top.

"Well that's because they're boys' clothes," she spat at him. "I didn't ask to wear them. D'you want 'em back?" She was fuming. Trunks looked a bit frightened at the knowledge that he'd touched a nerve. "But you don't need them, do you? You've got your shiny new sneakers and pretty little outfits instead. You've never even worn a hand-me-down, have you? You've probably never been hungry, either. Or worked a day in your life. Have you?"

Trunks blinked and opened his mouth, but Ada knew that he couldn't say anything to that.

"I don't know why he bothered with you," she said, her voice rising. "You just slowed him down. He would have been stronger without some kid to look after."

"And you let him die," Ada whispered. "You might as well have killed him yourself."

She never saw the punch coming. The next thing she knew, she was on the ground with blood gushing from her nose, and Trunks was stalking away angrily.

By the time Chi Chi and Bulma realized what had happened, the boy was already back in his basement home. Ada was trying to stifle the flow of blood with her hands. All she could think about was how much she hated Trunks and how furious Chi Chi was going to be that she had incited a fight.

xxx

Trunks awoke the next morning – or what he assumed was morning, as the lighting in the chamber was beginning to brighten – to a series of monstrous aches from head to toe. He had the use of one eye; the other was swollen tightly shut. His limbs were stiff and leaden, but they were working. At least the senzu bean had taken care of any breaks he'd suffered. He shivered and pulled the coverlet up over his naked body, pressing his face into the pillow. Day one, he thought. Only 364 more to go after this.

He worked his way out of bed and pulled on the change of clothes that Ada had packed in one of the capsules. It was simple: a loose pair of black pants and a gray tank top. Opting to forego shoes for the day, Trunks made his way to the kitchen area and prepared himself a bowl of hot cereal. He couldn't remember when he'd last eaten, and yet he still wasn't hungry.

He deposited the dishes in the sink, noticing that another dirty set was already there. His father was up and gone already. Trunks silently rejoiced at that fact until he realized that he was going to make very little progress without a sparring partner. At some point, the two would have to meet again. And next time, Trunks would be ready. Gritting his teeth, he ran his fingers over his swollen eyelid and down around the torn skin on his jaw. Yes, he would be ready.

Trunks quickly found that his body was not responding well to sudden and intense movement. Within a half hour of beginning his exercises, he found himself panting on the floor. He was feverish, drenched with sweat, and…and angry. The young man suddenly punched the floor of the time chamber with ferocious intensity. It did not budge. He could not break through this place. He could not break through anything here. He wanted to pummel his father, but he was not strong enough. He wanted to push himself to the next level, just as Vegeta was trying to, but his body was giving out before he could begin.

Trunks was useless.

He let out a roar and punched into the ground again, and again. His knuckle began to bleed, but he continued until he could no longer feel the pain. He was weak, and the androids were stronger here. And then…and then there was Cell… They would all make a plaything of him, then toss him aside as though it were his destiny to die here.

In an instant, Trunks stood and unleashed a terrifying surge of energy. I don't want to die, not here. He had always thought of his own time as the ugly stepsister to this past, but more and more, he was beginning to see this place as a bastardization of his own reality, of his home. Things here were worse, if such a thing was possible. The enemy was so powerful. The future of the earth depended on the likes of such a man as Vegeta, the proud prince who would rather destroy his allies than fight alongside them. And Goku…was he all that Trunks had thought? Was he so invincible, so heroic? Did he even have a plan?

And then, of course, the conversation he'd had with young Gohan as Mr. Popo had readied the time chamber.

"So," Trunks said, trying to get the boy's mind off the situation as they sat around. "I'll bet you're excited to get a new brother or sister." I'll just let them be surprised, he reckoned.

"What?" Gohan asked, startled. "What're you talking about, Trunks?"

Trunks frowned. "Your mother…she's having a baby."

The young boy frowned back, shaking his head slowly. "No, she's not. She would've told me."

"She's…not?"

"Huh-uh. I would definitely know." Gohan looked pensively at his feet. "And besides…if that was true, there's no way she'd be letting my dad fight. Not after he already died when I was little."

"Oh," Trunks answered, a million thoughts running through his head. He snapped back to reality when he heard Gohan laugh.

"Why would you think that, anyway, Trunks?"

He racked his brain for some kind of excuse…anything…"For some reason, I thought I heard your dad talking about a baby…but, um…I guess it was just…baby Trunks." He's too smart to believe that.

"Ohhhh – yeah, that's probably what he was talking about. Maybe he was talking about how weird it is that there're two Trunkses!" Gohan grinned.

Trunks blinked. I guess he's still just a kid, though. He forced a smile. "You're probably right."

Somehow, by coming back to the past and interrupting the timeline, he had done the unthinkable. He had erased Ada. Trunks, kneeling, stared at the blood dripping down his hand. He had erased Ada. There was no other explanation. He had gone over the timing in his head a million times. Chi Chi would be pregnant by now. Very pregnant. There would be no hiding it. But…she wasn't. Which meant that even if she had conceived a child, it had not happened at the same time as in the future. Which meant that any possible addition to the Son family, now or ever, would not be Ada. It made Trunks feel sick.

Yet, he had been born in this time. No, not me. Trunks. Every time his mind jumped back to that argument, Trunks had to remind himself that just because that baby was Trunks, the son of Bulma and Vegeta, it was not him. He had always assumed that he would exist in this timeline just as he did in his own, but that wasn't necessarily true. This Trunks could grow up to be…anyone. In his meddling, then, he had effectively taken himself out of the world as well. At least, the world as the inhabitants of this time would know it.

He was out of place here. He saw himself as a sort of hologram being projected onto this world. To these people, he was not reality.

He could not die here.

As Trunks stood, his mind turned to Ada yet again. What would she say if she saw him like this, pounding his fists against the floor like a child? What would she do if she knew of his despair? He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and grimaced. Somehow, he had to survive. You're going to save the world, she had told him. He would not abandon her to hide underground for the rest of her life. He would not let her live the rest of her days running.

xxx

Ada took a deep breath and pushed her mother's bedroom door open. She had heard the woman's gentle sobs from her own room and felt impelled to do something about it, feeling that it was somehow her fault. Stepping into the dimly-lit room, Ada whispered, "Mom?"

Chi Chi, who had been sitting on the side of the bed with her face in her hands, turned to look at her guest. "What are you doing in here?" she asked, wiping her eyes quickly as though her daughter had just discovered that she had been crying.

"I just…I wanted to say I'm sorry. For getting into a fight. I shouldn't have hit Trunks back. I shouldn't have said what I did. It was really stupid." Ada shifted awkwardly. She wasn't sorry, not really. She hated Trunks. And he had punched her first. And all of those things he'd said to her…

"He probably deserved it," Chi Chi replied, waving the apology away with her hand and shaking her head. Ada blinked, mouth slightly open. Was her mother being serious? Did Chi Chi simply want to get her off her guard before starting in on her inevitable tirade?

"W-what?" Ada asked, stepping further into the dim room.

"Bulma said he hasn't been himself since…your brother…it just wouldn't surprise me if he said something to make you angry. And sometimes," Chi Chi wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, "you just want to punch someone, you know?" She sniffled and looked at her daughter with an emotion that Ada did not recognize. It almost seemed like…no…but maybe…understanding.

"Mom…" Ada crept over the side of the bed on which her mother was sitting. "Are you feeling okay?"

Excepting the occasional fit of sobbing, since Gohan's death, Chi Chi had been like a paper doll. Her face was constantly fixed in an unreadable expression, her eyes cloudy and far away. Each of her movements, each of her words came from reflex alone. There was no life left there. Just a shell, and a fragile one at that. The woman sitting before Ada now was…unrecognizable.

"Yes," Chi Chi responded. And she smiled. It was barely there, but it crossed her lips all the same. A real, genuine smile. "I'm fine. I really am." And Ada knew that it was the truth. For the first time since Gohan had died, her mother was something like okay. Ada, wide-eyed, her hands clasped in front of her chest, stood there in silence, looking at her mother. After several moments, Chi Chi frowned and grabbed her daughter's hand. She pulled her onto the bed and then fingered her black locks.

"Oh, Ada. What did I do to your hair? You had such beautiful hair…" Another tear rolled down Chi Chi's cheek as she studied Ada's hacked-off tresses. "I'm so sorry…Ada, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," the girl lied, touching one of her mother's hands. "It'll grow back."

"I've ruined everything," Chi Chi responded, shaking her head. "Haven't I?"

"No, Mama," Ada said before bursting into tears. "No, you didn't." She threw her arms around her mother's neck and clung to her desperately. She felt Chi Chi hug her and kiss her head. Still crying silently, Ada tucked her head under her mother's chin and let Chi Chi run her fingers through what remained of Ada's hair.

"I'll fix it," Chi Chi said softly. "Tomorrow, I'll fix it. I'll fix it all." Ada said nothing. She couldn't find the words.

The two stayed like that for some time, rocking slightly back and forth, regaining their composure. Ada never loosed her arms from around her mother, and she wondered if she would be able to when the time came. No one had held her in so long…

"You were his dream, you know," Chi Chi finally whispered.

Ada furrowed her brown in confusion but said nothing.

"Your father. You were his dream," her mother clarified, her voice low and kind. "I really hadn't thought about having another baby before he brought it up."

Ada frowned at first. She disliked hearing about her father; besides, she knew all she cared to about him. Even Gohan hadn't spoken of him in front of Ada, probably because it made her brother feel all the more alone.

"But he wanted it, and I wouldn't have dreamed of saying no to that smile." Chi Chi sighed and hugged Ada more tightly. "I wish he could have seen you, just once. Just to see how beautiful you are. And strong. And everything he ever wanted."

"I love you, Ada," Chi Chi said, kissing the top of her daughter's head. Ada fumbled for a response. When had her mother last said those words to her? How many years had it been? She began to cry again, burying her face in her mother's shoulder.

"I love you too, Mama."

They lay down soon after, exhausted from the day and all of the tears it had brought. For the first time since she was an infant, Son Ada fell asleep in her mother's warm arms. And for the first time since her brother had been stolen away from her, she felt safe.

xxx

After cleaning and bandaging his hand, Trunks spent the rest of the day in meditation, as Ada had taught him. The further his mind wandered and the deeper he delved into his thoughts, the more he began to see things clearly. And not just those things that made up his reality. He allowed himself to peek into the future – or the future as he imagined it – of his own time.

Ada had said that he would save the world, but she'd never dared to imagine what that would look like. Truth be told, neither had he. No one ever really thought about a future without the androids. It was too distant to picture clearly. Yet, as Trunks sat in the middle of the void that was his temporary home, he let himself consider the possibility for the first time in his life.

He would ask Ada to marry him…beg her if it came to that (although he hoped it didn't). They would build a house out in the country, where she would feel at home. They would have a garden of nothing but flowers – growing anything edible would only remind Ada of the past – and he would pick a fresh bouquet for her every morning. They would lie in the grass and fall asleep in the sun, and take walks in the rain. And they would build a new world. And she would be happy.

xxx

That evening, Trunks, a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist, was walking from the shower to his bed when he suddenly heard his father break the hours-long silence.

"What could possibly take you so long, boy?" Vegeta snarled. Mouth open slightly for lack of a reply, Trunks looked over at him. Vegeta narrowed his eyes and frowned.

"You were simply wasting your time in there," he said as he nodded his head toward the bathroom. "If you plan to stay here, you will not dawdle like a child. You will eat, sleep, and train, and any other necessary activity will be completed quickly- not a moment is to be lost. You will be in bed by nine p.m. and awake by five. I will have no child of mine treating this like some sort of holiday. Are you listening?" He raised his voice with the question as he saw Trunks look down at his hands, which were holding his towel up. The younger warrior snapped his head back up and nodded obediently.

"Good," his father replied, turning back to his own bed before spitting out one last warning. "And you will leave me to myself. No exceptions or excuses."

With that, the prince got into his bed and shut the curtains around it. Trunks stood for a moment looking at the spot where his father had just been standing, and he gripped his towel angrily. I'm 20 years old! he seethed. I've got a life of my own- I can take care of myself! I'm no child…certainly not your child.

He tossed the towel onto one of the chairs of the nearby kitchen table and picked up his boxers off the floor. After pulling them on, Trunks ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. He looked to the sky- or what would have been the sky if he weren't in a room containing a strange separate dimension from the one he knew. The white light of the chamber, its source completely unknown, was beginning to dim. The hour hand of the room's large clock, he noticed, pointed precisely to the number nine. Nighttime, he supposed. Or at least its comparable alternate-dimension counterpart.

Trunks pulled back the covers of his own bed and climbed in, shutting the curtains around him. He sat for a minute with his knees halfway pulled to him and surveyed the palms of his hands. They were terribly dry and somewhat cracked, he observed, and then he smiled. Ada commented on that very thing nearly every time she held his hand. Each time, she offered him lotion without fail, but he always refused. He made her think it was because he didn't want to smell like Pomegranate Paradise, which was true to an extent, yes. More than that, however, he wanted to make sure that his hands felt the same way the next time she laced her fingers with his, just so he could watch her examine his skin with concern. It wasn't as though she didn't constantly let him know how she cared for him, it was just something about the way she brushed her porcelain fingers across his palm and looked up at him. Just picturing it made his heart grow sore. As Trunks shook himself out of the small reverie, he frowned. At that moment, sitting alone in the strange bed after listening to his father chastise him for the length of his shower, facing the reality of the coming year with no respite in sight but rather great danger after they emerged from the Room of Spirit and Time, Trunks realized that he had never felt- no, had never been- more utterly alone.

He lay down on the bed, propping himself up on his elbow and grabbing his Capsule Corp. jacket from off the floor. Every possession he had in this time and place was in the front left pocket of this single piece of clothing. Trunks opened the pocket flap and reached in after briefly surveying the immediate area for a safe spot in which to put his belongings. He decided on storing his things under his very pillow so that they would be close to him. After pulling out his Dyno-Caps case, Trunks flipped it open to double check everything. He scanned the two rows of capsules. Aero-car, repair kit, mini refrigerator, clothing, time machine. Everything in order there, he thought as he stashed it beneath his pillow.

Next out of the pocket came a four-by-six photograph, an afterthought, really- something he had noticed laying on his dresser and grabbed at the last minute- of Ada. He wasn't sure when the picture had been taken or even who had taken it. His mother, maybe? But when? The forest was in the background, and there was sun shining on the girl's face as she smiled at the photographer. It was the perfect sort of picture, in Trunks' opinion- informal, taken on a whim- and Ada had a simple loveliness about her.

After several minutes, Trunks turned to put the picture under his pillow but stopped when he noticed a black smudge on the pads of his fingers. It looked like ink, but he couldn't remember having been around any. He flipped the picture over curiously to find, quite surprisingly, a note written on the back. Pulling it closer to his face, he realized that the message was written in Ada's flowing script.

I love you.

As quickly as the note began, it ended. Trunks read it at least twenty times over as he lay there.

"Ada," he breathed, running his fingers across her words while trying not to smudge them. "I love you, too."

xxx

Ada awoke with a start. She blinked several times and looked to her left, then her right. Bulma stood above her, one hand still resting where she had tapped Ada on the shoulder.

"That doesn't look like a very comfortable pillow," Bulma smiled wanly. Ada looked back at the book on the table where her head had been. When had she fallen asleep? What time was it? She jumped up with a start.

"Is he–"

"No," Bulma interrupted, frowning. "Nothing yet. But that doesn't mean you should stay up all night waiting."

"Look who's talking," Ada quipped, trying unsuccessfully to hide the nervousness that was steadily creeping back through her veins.

"Hey now," Bulma managed, trying to do the same. "For your information, I've been in bed for hours. I just happened to wake up and thought I would check on you." She was lying. Ada could see it in her eyes. Bulma would never go to bed and sleep soundly with her son fighting an insanely powerful pair of monsters in another dimension.

"Well…thanks." She rubbed her eyes. There was nothing else to say, really.

"Go to bed, sweetie. Trying to keep yourself awake isn't going to help." Bulma rubbed a hand across her back and then nodded toward the hallway. Ada said nothing but gave Bulma what smile she could. The two then walked toward the other side of the basement, parting as Ada crept into Trunks' room and Bulma continued onto her own. Ada tiptoed across the floor, doing her best not to make a sound…

…until she realized that there was no one in bed that she had to worry about waking. She undressed and rifled through Trunks' drawers for something to wear to bed. She settled on the two thinnest, oldest pieces of clothing she could find: his favorites. She slipped on the ancient Capsule Corporation t-shirt and holey plaid boxers and then got in bed. Ada instinctively rolled over to the right side of the bed – her side – and laid her hand upon the pillow next to her. Cold.

Back before dinnertime. She gulped. She wouldn't cry – that would be ridiculous.

"Ridiculous," she whispered, her eyes watering. If he didn't come back–

No. None of that. He would come back. He promised. Maybe he would return while she was sleeping. Maybe she would wake up to see his face beside her. Ada had every reason to hope.

But she cried herself to sleep anyway.