Trunks was welcomed as warmly as she had been four months ago by the Capsule Corp inhabitants, minus Vegeta, plus baby Trunks. Panchy recognized her, but due to her still being covered in pollen and some of her clothes arguably having suffered tears from her earlier encounter with the Cyborgs, instead of offering her a drink, she led the teenager straight upstairs. With two weeks of experience humoring Panchy's antics, Trunks managed to somewhat keep cool in conversation with the odd woman.
"Tora-chan, how lovely seeing you back! You haven't changed a bit," she chirped.
"Neither have you, Panchy-san," Trunks returned the compliment. "My apologies for intruding without warning ahead."
"Oh you're such a sweet girl, Bulma-chan said you would be back, so your room is ready. Tama-chan missed you! It seems you had a long trip, why don't you have a nice warm bath and rest until it's dinner time darling?"
"A shower will do, thank you, I'm afraid this is not exactly a social visit," Trunks appreciated this strange family member of hers and how absolutely nothing bothered her. Panchy was the type of person to accept everything as part of her existence and her insistence of addressing her as a girl had been seemingly accepted as a personality quirk. Dr Brief and Bulma always used 'he' for her, and they never registered Panchy's wording. Little did Trunks know, Bulma tried to correct her mother a couple of times, without success, Panchy just said 'sure thing' and continued. No wonder she looked so young and relaxed, the woman was immune to stress and worries and just lived in her own bubble, unbothered by anything.
The room assigned to her had not changed, with the exception of a different shampoo in the bathroom. Trunks dropped the sword on the bed and emptied her pockets, as she'd done when she first arrived, wondering about repairing the weapon at a later date, then she unpacked some capsules and prepared a change of clothes (fabric only binder, black long sleeve tee, straight washed out jeans). She took a quick shower. The shampoo had a little strawberry scent to it, too, which changed from her usual utility soap.
Once clean, dry (a ki flare did wonders in that department) and changed, Trunks walked from the living areas to the full floor laboratory, holding her capsule case in hand. She noticed one key change in the organized mess: a crib. Bulma was absent, she'd just stepped out (as evidenced by the fresh coffee and the computer that was still running a program) but the baby was there, sleeping peacefully. Trunks couldn't help but move to have a closer look at the baby she barely had a peak at just before noon. She leaned over, and observed for a little while before she reached to give the chubby cheek a little poke with her index. The baby pouted and shifted, but didn't wake, and Trunks quietly chuckled at the cuteness. She felt a sense of realness touching that baby that could or perhaps should have been her, but was someone else entirely, for all intents and purposes. A tangible difference, as touching the baby was touching a different being, it felt real. Universe not deleted. That's reassuring.
A little click sound forced her eyes to leave the baby, and she saw Bulma holding a camera and snickering. She'd barely taken a good look at Bulma when she saw her earlier. Her hair into a long bob with bangs looked more familiar to Trunks than the large curls she had two years prior.
"Oh you were so cute looking at baby-you, sorry I couldn't resist." Bulma half apologized as she put the camera in one of the pockets of orange leisurewear outfit.
"It is hard resisting such a cute baby," she still disliked her picture being taken without her consent but she knew protesting would make it all even worse, so she just dealt with it.
"A baby that turns into such a smart and handsome young man," Bulma approached and poked her 'older child''s cheek with her index and a mischievous smile.
"All thanks to Mother's guidance," Trunks didn't fight away the touch, but didn't really react to it either, she felt somewhat detached from the compliment.
"Trunks, call me mom already, ok? Or did I age that much that you can't?" Bulma was being dramatic in her shallowness, and it worked. Trunks was flustered.
"The Bulma that is my mother is just as beautiful a woman as you are," Trunks reassured in a hurry, her cheeks blushing. "I would rather keep using your name because Mother is someone else, to me. As much as the baby and I aren't the same person, she and you are different people. It would be unfair to call you 'mother'."
"And yet, even if you're not him, I still love you the same and consider you my kid."
There was no use arguing with a Brief who had decided on something, so Trunks just acknowledged she'd play along with whatever Bulma wanted, and stepped away from the crib. It was time to get work done.
She opened her case to toss the capsule containing the mossy Time Machine into an emptier part of the lab. She knew the ceilings were high enough for the machine, as the compound's floors were higher than the basements where it was originally built. She then poofed her computer into existence while Bulma got herself some coffee to observe the teenager work.
"That's my computer."
"That's Mother's computer, yes. Speaking of which," she said while plugging some cables between the computer and the Time Machine, and started to boot everything. "She asked me to give her thanks for the capsules, they were of great help. And she wanted to apologize for accessing Capsule Corp's servers. I.. sort of entered the inner system and copied everything I could last time I was here."
By the time the teenager sat cross legged with the computer in front of her, Bulma handed her a cup of warm coffee which she took with a grateful smile.
"Well I probably asked you to do it, so I accept my apology to myself then. And I guess that you could because I gave you all passwords and the computer was recognized as authorized, mh?" Trunks nodded to confirm. "Well I am smart, so I can't fault me for not asking me for access. I would have figured I was your mother if I knew, I guess, so I gave you my computer to bypass me... Geez this is giving me a headache."
"That is my constant state of mind, Bulma-san," she smirked knowingly and raised her coffee mug with gratitude. Bulma raised her own mug in silent prayer to the caffeine gods. Trunks put away the computer while it was coordinating with the Time Machine's on board computer and retrieving information, and hovered to the machine to retrieve back the little notebook under the commands, containing the handwritten procedures of the Machine.
"Is there something I can help you with?"
"It's just diagnostics; perhaps once I have the data..."
"I guess I can't look, can I?" Bulma asked and put down her empty mug, and indicated the notebook in the other's hands.
"I know she would.. rather not let you read these unless absolutely necessary." Her mother had asked her to not let her younger self see the procedures for reasons that were her own, Trunks had a hard time denying either version of her mother, but her actual mother's desires won over.
"Then I'll trust my reasoning then," Bulma had to admit defeat to the desires of an older, wiser version of her that was living in some sort of apocalypse.
A little babble then a soft cry echoed in the room alongside the engine and fan buzzes. Bulma went to tend to her baby, sat down in a comfortable office chair, and removed her sweatshirt to lift her shirt and be able to breastfeed. Trunks stared for a while, still somewhat in shock at seeing this version of Bulma get so comfortable around her, then returned to focus on the notebook and the computer, trying to ignore the situation. There was nothing weird breastfeeding a baby, after all. Whether she wanted it or not, everyone had more or less instantly accepted her as 'part of the gang' or 'part of the family'. Except Vegeta.
"Is it wrong for me to hope that this child grows with a father?" She eventually asked.
"Well we can hope, but Vegeta's not really the fatherly type. We'll wait and see, right Trunksie? Can you believe Tenshinhan was the one who caught me and baby-you when Gero blew my plane?" Bulma had to complain, a little bitter and amazed at the same time. Trunks looked straight at her with a frown, taking in the information. She was seething. His love and his child were in danger and he didn't save them?
"The bar was low, and I still find myself disappointed in him. Perhaps I should hope for his absence, then, 'a father' does not need to be Vegeta-san. I feel sorry for you and for Mother for loving such a man."
"Eh, he still needs to be tamed. Once the threat is over, he'll calm down with the hyper-fixation a little. Joke's on him, I'm actually into his savage side. Hey, no no, no biting, Trunks!" Bulma scolded her baby gently and stopped feeding him. "That's enough for now." The baby protested and moved his arms a little trying to reach to get more milk.
"Saiyan appetite and Saiyan teeth. The bites will get painful," she pointed at herself and grinned to show pointy canines, and made a point to repress whatever her mother had just said she was into. "Mother switched to formula and solid food early."
"Pfft, thanks for the heads up. We do need hybrid alien babies manuals." The baby protested with a frown and more agitation. "Ah, someone needs a change. I'll be back."
While Bulma went off to the nursery, Trunks returned to her work and compared notes with the data that flashed on the screen. She realized the computer couldn't use the existing data as a basis to read the new data, so she created a new file and decided to do a complete recovery. She'd first need to unpack and decode all of the code back into workable documents before being able to actually study them. She locked the computer with her own password to let it run on its own, it would take a while considering the absurd amount of math contained in the Time Machine. She went to sit at the desk to enjoy more coffee and listen to the radio, out of habit. She didn't move when she felt the young mother come back, alone, and stayed still when she reached into her hair with her fingers.
"I see you used the special Brief hair shampoo I put in your room."
"Strawberry's your favorite," she leaned back to look up, not fighting the touch.
"You still used it." Bulma was pleased to see the shampoo had given a little shine to the teenager's hair. It needed more treatment but it was a good start, compared to the dry mess it had been prior. She checked it was properly washed and dried that way.
"My hair needed washing, you put shampoo out for me, why would I have refused to use it?" Trunks appreciated the contact on her scalp, but didn't really lean into it despite wanting to.
"Isn't it too girly?"
"You mean, shampoo?"
"The strawberries."
"Are fruits gender-exclusive, now?"
"Smartass," Bulma ruffled the teenager's hair as a tiny punishment, then slid back a capsule into her hand; she returned the car as promised. Trunks smiled bright, taking the punishment as intended, and put away the capsule in her case.
Since the computer would need at least a few hours to unfold the whole database, Trunks asked to call Kame-House and offer to meet up with everyone. Because of Tenshinhan, Piccolo and Vegeta not being either at Kame-House nor at Capsule Corp, Krillin and Yamcha considered it would be wiser for all of them to meet at Kami's lookout (where they guessed Piccolo was). Trunks offered to fetch Vegeta on her way since she was somewhat familiar with his energy, and Yamcha agreed to find Tenshinhan. Chichi refused Gohan's presence at the meet-up, and Krillin didn't want to argue, nor Trunks wanted to try and convince her on the phone, so they'd fill him in later. Because the Cyborgs weren't usually active at night, they decided to meet at dusk, giving Trunks a solid three hours to get there. She confirmed it was indeed above Korin's tower (as she never went).
The intercom buzz announcing dinner was ready reminded Trunks she'd not eaten properly prepared food in a couple of days, and the day's events had opened her appetite.
She fixed her hair back into a lazy middle part and stood to follow her host, putting the notebook into her back jeans pocket.
"You think Vegeta will come back anytime soon?"
"Unlikely. I saw Vegeta-san had achieved super Saiyan, but Eighteen still treated him like he was a glorified nobody. She wounded him where it hurt the most."
"His ego?"
"His ego. We somehow all survived, so we can count our blessings." She explained as they sat down at the dining table with Panchy and Dr Brief, and saluted her grandfather properly, apologizing for the intrusion, before continuing the talk with Bulma. "He was about as angry as he was when he faced me four months ago- er, two years ago."
"Vegeta's not the type to give up, he'll come back and show them who's boss. Let's hope he doesn't get himself killed in the process."
"Vegeta-san is not the type to listen to reason and cooperate, but he respects might. If I need to submit him by force, I will, and hopefully neither of us dies in the process of establishing who's top chicken."
"That's kind of dramatic there…"
"Establishing a pecking order with Vegeta-san won't happen without forcing him into submission. This shouldn't be a revelation to you." Trunks punctuated by wiggling her fork at Bulma, and Bulma had to fold, the teenager was accurate in her understanding of her father, through her mother, arguably, but also through the fights she had with Vegeta during her first stay. Trunks knew Bulma had forced Vegeta into submission in some way or another, and Bulma understood the message.
"I guess you're right."
"Fascinating, my grandson from the future." Dr Brief had been listening in, and Bulma had explained to him and to Panchy who Tora was when Trunks was born, and while Panchy just seemingly never got it, her grandfather found the ordeal wonderful.
"Well, Mother said it was more of a multiverse theory situation as the baby and I aren't the same person, but yes, if we were to run genetics, I would be your descendant, Dr Brief. My apologies, the circumstances could be better."
"I got to create a time travel machine in the future, dad, can you believe it?"
"Well you are my daughter, darling," Dr Brief laughed. "Are things turning out the same as they did for you, Trunks-kun?"
"No, too much has changed to be comparable now. What I wished to preserve has been preserved, but it has become as uncharted territory for me than it is for everyone else. We can only hope to end up with a better outcome."
Trunks kept an eye on her watch; she didn't know exactly how long she'd need to find and convince Vegeta, then go to the Lookout, and she didn't want to be late. Once dinner was over, the teenager asked the Briefs to let her computer run on the machine in the lab and not touch either object, and said she'd be back well at night, and as such, would probably use the room's window instead of the door in order not to wake anyone.
Upstairs she hid her capsule case between some books again; the broken Time Machine was one thing to leave in the open, but her own was a whole other subject. She grabbed a windbreaker, her cigarettes, the key access card, the procedures notebook of the mossy machine and a clean handkerchief and figured it'd be enough to meet with the 'gang'. She left through the window and left it ajar to be able to return. Finding Vegeta's spikes of energy was easy.
Vegeta, isolated in the middle of the rocky formations he'd chosen as a refuge for his wounded pride, refused to even acknowledge her presence, and as much bravado as Trunks had spoken to Bulma about pecking order, she hoped to reach to his intellect first.
"Vegeta-san."
The prince stubbornly refused her, but he did glare. The man irradiated aggression and self-loathing. Trunks was unsure how to proceed. What comfort could she extend his way? What could she tell him he didn't already know? He'd achieved the legendary, and that wasn't enough. The third cyborg he'd seen already. The other Time Machine didn't matter at the moment. She thought back at their last actual interaction; their third and final spar in the (disabled) Gravity Room.
"Prince Vegeta." She spoke more firmly, arms crossed, expectant. "Transform."
As you've guessed, I'm delaying Cell a little, because otherwise everything happens on the god damn same day. Good horror implies anticipation too :)