His teacher

Oh, snap. I wasn't expecting this to be ready until next week. It's a miracle!

Anyway, yeah. So I went ahead and turned this into a real story. Go figure.

I would do the thanky thing for my reviewers...but we've already discussed it, rather in detail. So thanks, Vernoica! Hope you and everyone else likes.


---
His teacher, chapter 2
---

"Trunks!"

Pushing himself upright from where he lay on top of the low hill, Trunks turned his head quickly to find the familiar voice calling him. "Gohan?"

The boy he had met in the past came running towards him, laughing as they joined in a hug to end all hugs.

"Gohan...you waited for me here? This whole time?" He didn't know how, but somehow the words sounded true as he said them.

"Of course, silly! I knew you would come back." The boy nuzzled closer to the man. "I love you."

"I love you too, Gohan." There was something else, though...he hadn't come back again to see Gohan. No, there was another reason...but he couldn't remember. This was more important, anyway. He kissed Gohan on top of the head. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Trunks." The wind picked up out of nowhere, and Gohan was suddenly thrown off of him, landing a few feet away. "Trunks!"

Abruptly, everything was fire and ruin, the grass underneath him turned to charcoal, the trees in the distance—the ones that were still standing, anyway—skeletal and dead. A line of flame rose between him and the boy, cutting them apart. "Gohan!"

"Aw, how sweet. Young love." A horrifically melodious voice came wafting from somewhere to his left. Trunks jerked to his feet and turned, saw the lean, attractive forms of Androids Seventeen and Eighteen standing some feet away, smirking.

"Hey, Eighteen, doesn't that kid look familiar?" Seventeen asked, ignoring Trunks, who was unable to move for some reason.

"Hm." The female android strode over to where Gohan cowered, picked him up by the collar and inspected him. "Yeah. Didn't we kill him already?"

"Well, any job worth doing is worth doing again, I always say."

"No!" Now Trunks could move; he launched himself at Eighteen in a frenzy, needing to get her away from Gohan.

The other android appeared in front of him and kicked him soundly in the ribs. "Spare me." Seventeen said. "You didn't really think you could do anything, did you? It doesn't matter what you do, you and your little boyfriend will always be too weak to stop us." He punctuated this with another kick, sending Trunks flying.

When he managed to get up and reorient, he could see both of them watching Gohan, still held aloft by Eighteen. He seemed to be unconscious. "How boring." She declared. "What are we supposed to do with a kid?" Raising her free hand, readied her energy to disintegrate the boy.

"No! Gohan!"

"Idiot." Seventeen drawled. "I told you, nobody can stop us. Especially you."

"Don't!" Eighteen unleashed the attack, searing everything white for a moment...

"Gohan!" Trunks started awake, breathing shallowly and staring at the ceiling as though it would reassure him that his dream had been just that.

He had been dreaming about Gohan pretty much every night since he had returned from the past, where he had encountered the young version of the man he loved. For the first while it had been the pleasant kind of dream, the kind that ended—and usually began, actually—without either of them wearing clothes. The last week, they had been the fire and death kind, which had him waking up a sweat for all the wrong reasons. He knew it was because he was nervous, or something; they had started the night after his mother had told him exactly when she would be done working on his time machine, and when he would be going back.

A month. Only a month, it had been since he had returned home. When he went back there, three years would have gone by. Would they have managed to get strong enough? His father, Piccolo and all the other warriors whose stories he had grown up hearing? Had Goku survived that terrible virus? Had Gohan gotten taller?

"Stop thinking like that, Trunks. You have a job to do. You're not going there to sightsee." He told himself sternly as he rose from the bed. Besides, there was no point in wondering; soon enough he would know. Bulma was expecting to be done with the time machine that night; he would be leaving the next morning.

Tomorrow. He thought as he dressed. Tomorrow I go back, and I fix everything. Save the world. Save Gohan.

"Trunks!"

Startled, he turned and saw Bulma framed in the doorway. "Mother! Why didn't you knock?" He was dressed now, but still.

"I did." The smartest woman on Earth informed him. "You didn't hear." Without waiting for further invitation, Bulma strode into the room, handed him a bacon sandwich and turned on the radio. "Eat and listen to this."

"What is it?"

"Put that in your mouth and listen!" Funny, he hadn't noticed that she was holding that wrench until she waved it at him.

"...broken. Families, not knowing what's happened to their loved ones. Everyone wondering, what do they do now that their safe haven...isn't?" The announcer sounded utterly defeated, though that was nothing new, since he'd reported on nothing but disasters for his whole career.

"The refugee camp in the West Mountains." Bulma declared, switching the radio off. "A landslide. We don't know if it's natural, or..."

"The Androids." Trunks growled. Even if it weren't them, it was still their fault. Nobody would be living in those mountains if they hadn't wrecked all the cities.

"We're sending what help we can, but you can get there faster, Trunks."

"I'm going." Grabbing his coat, Trunks threw open the window and made to leap.

"Trunks." He stopped, turned to regard his mother. "The time machine. It'll still be ready tonight. You can go tomorrow and...fix this." A hand waved expansively to encompass the entire world.

"Yeah. Okay, thanks, mom." Hauling himself out into the air, Trunks headed to where people needed his help.

“And make sure you eat that on the way!”

Tomorrow.

---

"Well, tomorrow's the big day, Gohan." Goku clapped his son on the back as they approached their home after their last day to training, their last day of preparation before they would have to fight for the Earth again.

"Yeah, dad. I know." How could he not? The entire focus of the last three years had been on tomorrow. Chi-Chi had categorically blocked their attempt to mark it on the calendar, but it might as well have been glowing neon pink, for all that Gohan could take his eyes away from that innocuous little square every time he passed it on his way to the kitchen.

"Hey, Gohan." In a rare display of insightfulness, Goku seemed to have picked up on his son's nervousness. "Don't worry about it, okay? Everything is going to be fine."

"If you say so, dad." Gohan had gotten to know his father very well these last three years, and knew that there was no point in trying to explain that he had no way of knowing that. For Goku, there was always a happy ending waiting.

"I do say so." Whacking Gohan between the shoulders again, Goku led the way into the house. "Now, let's eat!"

The house smelled delicious; Chi-Chi couldn't stop thinking about the twelfth of May either. Even though she didn’t talk much about it and didn't seem overly worried, Gohan knew his mother was scared that this would be the last time she would ever see them. So instead of descending into the hysteria that she undoubtedly wanted to, she cooked an unforgettable meal for her men to eat before they went out to fight.

Goku ate like he usually did, as though it was the first time he'd seen food in weeks, piling everything onto his plate and stuffing as much into his face as he could. Dinner conversation was not a big thing in their house. Even though he really wasn't hungry, Gohan took a lot of food too, but ended up only taking a few polite bites before his appetite completely fled and he ended up just mashing it all up with his fork. At one point he looked up and saw that he wasn't the only one not eating. Chi-Chi was staring at the food on her plate as though it might disappear (which was entirely possible, since her husband wasn't really paying attention to what he was grabbing), but she hadn't so much as picked up her fork. She looked up too and her eyes met with her son's; she gave him a small smile and Gohan tried to return it, but even to him if felt forced.

Later, when he was finally sated, Goku leaned back in his chair with his hands on his belly. "That was great, Chi-Chi, thanks! What's for dessert?"

"I didn't make dessert." His wife said absently as she stood, removing both her full plate and Gohan's from the table. "No time."

"Oh." Goku sounded disappointed, but quickly got over it. "Oh, well, maybe next time. Come on, Gohan. Let's go have a bath." He stood and headed out the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

"I'll, uh...be out in a minute, dad. I'm going to help mom clean up first." In truth, he really didn't think he could handle his father's blasé assurance for much longer.

"Well, okay, but don't take too long, or the water'll get cold." And he left without a second look.

Together, Chi-Chi and Gohan cleared the table and got the leftover food, which there actually was a decent amount of, properly packaged and put away in the fridge. There were surprisingly little dishes, since Chi-Chi cleaned as she went, so it only took about ten minutes for her to wash and him to dry. Gohan took as long as he could drying the last glass, looking around almost desperately for something else he could do.

"Gohan, it's dry." His mother finally said. She sounded very tired. "You need to go out and have a bath."

"I know, but..." He glanced quickly at the kitchen door after his departed father.

"No buts, mister. You don't have to stay in for long, just wash yourself and get out." She knew perfectly well the reason for his reluctance, but there would be no getting out of bathing. Not in her house.

"Okay, I'm going." Gohan trudged out of the kitchen, slowly stripping is clothes off as he walked. He paused by the front door, taking his underwear off as meticulously as possible and folding everything carefully before stuffing it all in the laundry hamper by the front door—because Chi-Chi didn't want them strewing clothes all around the yard on the way to the outdoor bath—and went outside and made his way around the house to the big tub.

"Hey, Gohan! What took you so long?" His father waved as he climbed up the steps to get in, and then unceremoniously grabbed his wrist as soon as he was at the top and pulled him into the steaming water.

"Dad!" Gohan whined after he had surfaced, rubbing water from his eyes.

"You were taking too long." Goku said by way of explanation, all innocence and obliviousness.

"I was coming." The boy grumbled, grabbing the shampoo from the side of his head and squeezing a generous amount into his long hair.

"Gohan, is something the matter?" Goku put a hand on his son's shoulder. "You're acting a little strange today."

"Dad." Of course something was the matter, the world could very well end tomorrow! "Aren't you worried about the battle tomorrow? I mean, we could all die."

"That again? Don't worry about it, son. We'll be fine."

Goku may have thought that was good enough, but Gohan was ten years old. He wasn't young enough to stop worrying just because his father said so anymore. "You don't know that, dad."

"Sure I do. Hey, we've always won before, right?" Goku grabbed the shampoo from his son and started washing his own hair.

Gohan badly wanted to point out that they had always won before at great expense and that victory didn't necessarily mean that they would all still be alive on the thirteenth of May, but there was no point. So he just sunk under the water to rinse out his soapy hair.

When he rose again, his father was standing. "Well, I'm done. Good dinner, a nice bath...only one more thing to do tonight now!" He winked conspiratorially at Gohan, who fought the urge to roll his eyes. If his mother knew Goku was even hinting about sex in front of their son, she would have her husband's hide. As if he didn't already know about it. How could he not? Goku didn't hide anything. At least this time he hadn't said anything blatant. His erection bobbed rather obviously as he made his way out of the tub, pausing for a brief moment at the top of the ladder, his hand resting on his chest for just a second before he leapt down and proceeded to head for the house, toweling off as he went.

The half-Saiyan made sure to clean himself thoroughly—Chi-Chi would sent him right back out if he didn't meet her approval when he was finished—before hopping out of the water himself and draining the tub by pulling a plug out of the side to allow the water to pour out and down the hill, eventually into the river below. Then, even though he was naked and wet and it was getting chilly, he dried off outside, because he wasn't allowed to drip water indoors. Only after he was done that did he go in the house, dropping his towel in the laundry basket as he passed it.

"Goku, put some clothes on, now."

"Ah, but Chi-Chi...I won't need them in a few minutes!" His parents were in the living room, he could hear from the door.

"I told you, not until Gohan goes to bed. Now get off of me!"

Because he didn't want to fall asleep listening to the sounds of his mother yelling at his father about 'inappropriate behaviour' and 'innocent ears,' Gohan opened the front door again and closed it loudly.

"Be quiet, Goku! Gohan, is that you, sweetie?"

Who else would it be? "Yes, mom. I'm all finished."

"Come in here and let me see. I'm in the living room."

Gohan sighed and went to go present himself to his mother. He was ten years old; he really didn't need someone to make sure he had cleaned himself off properly! But just doing it was easier than arguing.

Chi-Chi looked him over carefully, while Goku sat next to her and quivered with impatience, until she finally determined that Gohan was clean enough. "Alright, honey. Go on to your room and get your jammies on. Then you can stay up another half-hour and then it's bedtime, okay?"

"Actually, mom, I...I'm gonna go to bed now. I'm really tired."

And understanding look crossed his mother's face, and she pulled him in for a hug. "Alright, then. Night-night, Gohan."

"Goodnight, mom." He pulled away from her and turned to his father. "Goodnight, dad."

"Goodnight, son. Come here." Gohan hesitated, but did, and allowed Goku to hug him as well.

With his parental obligations complete, Gohan left the living room without another word and went into the bathroom (which was in fact a normal bathroom, with its own bathtub and everything, but Goku preferred the outdoor bath; Gohan had to bathe with his father to save water, his mother said) to get ready for bed.

After carefully brushing his teeth and rinsing his toothbrush clean, putting the toothpaste away in the cup on the back of the sink, Gohan used the toilet, making sure to flush and wash his hands with lots of soap. He then cleaned out the sink, making sure the bathroom was as clean as it had been before he came in, and only then did he leave for his bedroom.

Behind his own door, Gohan grabbed his nightshirt off of his pillow, shaking it out of its perfectly folded square, and pulled it over his head. There was a pair of underwear sitting on the pillow as well, and those he took and neatly put back in his drawer. He hadn't worn anything but a shirt to bed in three years. Not since the night...

The night his father had come back. That was what had happened that day. Nothing else. Nothing that mattered, anyway.

Suddenly in an even worse mood, Gohan yanked the tightly tucked-in sheets back and leapt under them. He put his head under the pillow and pulled the blankets on top of himself.

Maybe he would get lucky and sleep through all of tomorrow.

---

Trunks landed hard on the pavement outside Capsule Corp., stumbling a little as he made for the door. He was exhausted; not physically, since all he had done was shift some rocks, but emotionally. He hated going to those refugee camps. They were so full of people who just didn't have anything...and then to have this on top of it. Half of a mountain seemed to have fallen on one half of the camp, and thousands of people were missing. He had spent the whole day recovering bodies.

"Trunks." He looked up and realized he had been standing at the front door for the past few minutes. His mother was there now, holding it open for him. "It was that bad, huh?"

"Worse. So many people...it was just..." He didn't even know what it was.

"I know, Trunks. I know." Bulma ushered him into the house and sat him down at the table. "Tell me about it."

"It...it was just...it was awful." He shook his head as he spoke. "Just awful. Nobody...everybody I talked to was looking for somebody; they were all missing someone...and there's no way. No way they're alive. I mean, there's a million tons of rock on top of them. They're just..." He had to stop, for a minute, to catch his breath. "The worst part is, I don't think the Androids did it. It just...happened."

“Sometimes bad things just happen, son.” He shouldn’t have to be told that. It was practically the story of his life. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, but...”

"Tomorrow." Bulma promised, laying a hand on his arm. "Tomorrow morning you can go back and stop all of this from happening."

"But it won't!" She drew back a bit, surprised. "It won't mom. You already told me that. Nothing I do is going to make things any better for us. For this world."

"But you'll still be saving millions of lives, Trunks. Even if they only exist in a parallel world, there will still be millions of people who are only alive because of you. Isn't that worth it?"

Not millions. Only one. And that's why it's worth it. "Yeah. I know, mom. I'm just..."

"I understand. I've been helpless for a long time, too, Trunks."

They sat in silence for the longest time, until Bulma got up to make something for them to eat. "You know what the strangest thing is, mom?"

"What's that?"

"There are all sort of people who are just...missing. They weren't even anywhere near the slide area and they're just gone. I mean, maybe people were wrong and some of them were over there, but...it's strange. And you know the other weird thing? I kept finding sets of clothes, just lying on the ground, like whoever owned them just stripped and ran away."

"How bizarre." Bulma sat a plate of something in front of him and he started eating without even looking to see what it was. "Now that you say that..." She paused and appeared thoughtful for a moment. "I heard about something like that happening somewhere else a while back. A whole group of people, just vanishing and leaving their clothes behind. Maybe somebody's starting some kind of naked cult."

Trunks had to snort at that idea. "Should I try to find out what's going on?"

"No, I'll handle it. A couple hundred naked people shouldn't be that hard to find, I would think." She shook her head. "I just don't get people. The world’s ended, and they want to get back to nature? Just odd."

They ate the rest of their meal in silence. When he was finished, Trunks gathered the dishes and washed them, so Bulma wouldn't have to, and headed for the stairs. "I'm going to bed. I'll see you at dawn." Bulma's exact timeline for readiness was three forty-one in the morning, but even Trunks was willing to wait the extra three hours.

"It's not enough I'm staying up all night to finish the work on that thing, you want me to be up at the break of day, too?"

"Mom..."

"I know, dear. I'll be ready." Bulma chuckled at him. "You need to lighten up."

Rather than dignifying that with a response, Trunks just went upstairs. Almost. I'm coming, Gohan. Just a little bit longer.

---

Why was it that tonight, the one night of his life when he really should be getting as much sleep as possible, the night that could very well be the last night he ever had, that on this one night, he couldn't get to sleep no matter how much he tried?

Gohan made a frustrated noise and kicked at his blankets, untucking them all from the bed and sending most of them flying. Then he sat up and pouted at his feet.

"I'm hungry." He really should have eaten something at supper. Too late now, though. His mother would kill him if she caught him snacking at night.

Of course, she was probably asleep. There was no way they were still having sex; Gohan knew it did take that long. And he could be quiet when he had to be. Silently sneaking out of bed, he crept to the door and cracked it open. All of the lights in the house were off. Gohan pushed the door open just enough that he could fit through and the shut it silently behind him. He tiptoed into the kitchen, walking slowly, lest he bang into something and knock it over.

He had his hand on the handle of the refrigerator when the lights suddenly came on. Uh-oh.

Gohan spun to explain himself before anyone could start yelling. "I'm sorry! But I can't sleep 'cause I'm really hungry and..."

"Gohan." Chi-Chi didn't sound mad at all. Just tired. "You really should have eaten something at dinner." She didn't look like someone who had been woken up, though.

"I'm sorry, mom."

"Sit down." He did, and she opened the fridge herself and took two plastic-wrapped plates out. One went in the microwave that Goku had thoughtfully gotten her for their anniversary last year as she hunted up forks. When it was done, she put the now warm plate in front of Gohan and started heating up the other plate as well.

Gohan waited for his mother to sit with her plate as well before he started eating. He ate fast, since he was starving, but also carefully, making sure not to spill any on his shirt, or Chi-Chi would make him take it off and put it in the laundry right then.

"You really shouldn't be so hard on your father, Gohan."

The boy paused with a mouthful of peas. "Huh?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full. He's very, very worried about what's going to happen tomorrow, you know."

Gohan swallowed and looked down at his plate. "No, he isn't. He doesn't think it's a big deal."

"That isn't true, sweetie."

"Yes it is. He never got the heart virus, mom."

"What do you mean?"

"Trunks..." Gohan had to stop for just a second. That was the first time in three years he'd admitted that the man from the future existed. "Trunks told him that he was gonna die from a heart virus before the Androids even came. But he never even got sick, so now he thinks that the other stuff Trunks told him might of been wrong too, like how strong the Androids were. So he's not worried. That's what he told me."

"He was lying to you, Gohan. So that you wouldn't be scared."

Finally, Gohan looked up. "What?" He didn't think Goku had ever told a lie in his life.

"Your dad is scared, Gohan. Very scared. But he doesn't want anyone to know, because then they would be scared too. Do you understand?"

"But...he's not scared of anything." This was an absolute, a fact of life. Krillin was bald, Piccolo was green, his mother had a short temper and his father wasn't scared of anything. These were infallible truths.

"Of course he is. He's terrified that something will happen to you, or to one of his friends. That he'll fail and the horrible future that man told him about will actually happen."

Astonished, Gohan dropped his eyes again. After taking several bites of reheated yams, he said, "But how do you know? Dad...he told you that?"

"Of course he didn't." Chi-Chi said, spinning noodles around her fork. "But when you love somebody, you know."

Gohan had no response to that. He ate the rest of his dinner in silence, wishing that Piccolo hadn't run off on some mysterious errand the previous morning, so that he could talk about this. Or that Krillin were here, or Yamcha, or anybody who he could talk to without it being weird. Even...

Even Trunks. He hadn't known the man from the future long, but Gohan knew he would have understood, or at least listened.

"Gohan? You should get back to bed, sweetie. You have a big day tomorrow."

The half-Saiyan shook his head a little and focused on the kitchen again. His plate was empty, and had been for some minutes. "Yeah." He took it to the counter and set it there, then returned and gave his mom a hug. "Goodnight mom. I love you."

"I love you too, Gohan. Make sure you brush your teeth again."

He did, going through his whole bedtime routine again before returning to his room. The light had stayed on in the kitchen, suggesting that his mother had chosen not to attempt sleep again just yet.

After making his bed anew and climbing into it again, Gohan shortly found that he still couldn't sleep. Tossing didn't help, neither did turning; he tried curling into a ball and jamming his head under the pillow, but to no effect. He sat up and crawled over to the window, stared out into the night.

He was worried. Not that he hadn't been before, but now that Gohan had found out that his father was unsure as well, all his anxiety about the coming battle had multiplied. He now appreciated why Goku had been pretending to be calm.

He wasn't nearly as brave as his father. So how was he supposed to go out there now, knowing that he, not to mention everyone else, could die? Yes, Trunks had said that he was to survive, but that was unlikely to hold if he ran recklessly into combat. How on Earth did Goku and his friends do it every time?

Certainly, Gohan had gone willingly into danger before. To fight the Saiyans, against Frieza, defending the Earth while his father was gone against that Garlic guy...but those had been different. He'd had no choice. He'd made promises. To Piccolo, to help fight. And then to himself, that he would revive his friend. And then to make sure his father had a home to return to. This time...

"I promise, too. I won't leave you alone this time."

Those words, spoken three years ago and forgotten, suddenly thundered in Gohan's mind. Trunks had turned out to be a big jerk, telling Gohan he loved him and doing all that stuff with him, but then leaving without even saying goodbye, but he had still promised the man from the future. Promised to save his world. "I promised." He muttered out the window.

Climbing out of bed again, Gohan opened the bottom drawer of his dresser and moved the clothes aside, pulling out a thin box. He lifted the cardboard lid and looked down at the dark blue fabric within, which he had put away three years ago and made himself not think about. "Trunks..."

Discarding the box, Gohan brought out the coat and got back in bed. He wasn't sure why, but he wrapped it around himself like another blanket and lay down, using the overlong sleeves for a pillow. "I'll keep my promise, Trunks. I'll help you." Of course the coat didn't respond to him. Now he felt sleepy, though. He was drifting...

And then, when he was almost asleep, his filters and mental restraints all but gone, his mind filled with thoughts of the man whose memory he'd ignored for years, Gohan's heart spoke without asking for permission. "I miss you, Trunks."

---

"I love you, Trunks."

"I love you too, Gohan."

The boy shifted, snuggling their naked bodies closer. "No you don't."

"Of course I do!" Trunks put an arm around Gohan and held tight.

"Then why did you let me die?" Gohan turned to look at him, and the face was both that of the boy and the Gohan he had known, and failed. His mentor stared at him emotionlessly with two faces, the question burning into Trunks just as the world was suddenly burning around him...

Hearing your own strangled shout was not the most comfortable way to wake up, but Trunks found that he seemed to be doing quite a bit of it lately. Twin images of Gohan still stared at him from the dark, silently accusing. Light. He needed light.

Trunks groped at the bedside table; found himself astereognostic. Was that the lamp, or the radio? Oh, wait, it was too small. Probably his watch. Maybe here...no, that was a glass of water. Had been a glass of water, anyway. Now it was a pile of wet, broken glass on the floor.

Frustrated, Trunks just materialized an energy ball to illuminate the room. Oh, there was the lamp. Right where he'd left it.

Switching it on and letting his energy disappear, Trunks grabbed his watch from the table and checked it. A few minutes past four. Close enough. He couldn't wait any longer. He had to go save Gohan...the world. Now.

He had the presence of mind to clean up the broken glass and throw it in the trash before grabbing some clothes, his sword and a few necessary capsules on his way out of the room. He raced down the hall and showered in record time, and was on his way to the converted parking lot where his time machine lay waiting before quarter past.

As he went about unhooking all the myriad of wires that were connecting the thing to the computers and generators, Trunks hoped his mother would understand why he hadn't said goodbye to her. Of course, if all went really well, he could return just a few minutes after he had left, and she would never have to worry. One of the generator cables shocked him rather impressively as he pulled it out. "Ow! Shit."

"Swearing is the fallback of the intellectually stagnant, Trunks."

"Mom?" He turned, and there she was, crossing the lot towards him, yawning widely and holding a plate. "I didn't know you were awake."

"I never thought for an instant that you'd wait until dawn, son. But you're not leaving without breakfast." She shoved the dish at him, full of eggs and bacon. "Eat."

"Mom, I don't have time for that!"

"Eat, young man, or I'll activate the self-destruct and you'll have to wait a year while I rebuild the damn thing!"

"Mom!" But Trunks ate, grumbling the whole time.

As he went about breaking the world speed record for emptying a plate, his mother disconnected all of the rest of the cables and wires, and climbed inside and fiddled around with the computers for a moment.

Trunks set the plate carefully on a nearby computer terminal when he was done—no need to break anything else—and at the same time Bulma jumped out of the cockpit and gave the machine a good whack. "It's all ready." She declared.

"Sorry, mom." Trunks looked at the ground as he spoke. "For trying to leave..."

"Oh, honestly, son. Do you think I was never a teenager? Frankly, I'm shocked it's taken you this long to try and sneak out on me."

He had to laugh, and then he pulled her into a hug. "I love you, mom."

"I love you too, Trunks."

"I'll fix it. Everything. I promise."

"Of course you will!" She let him go, and pulled back to regard him. "How could you not? You'll have the advantage we never did: Goku. He’s never lost. Not in an actual fight, anyway."

"Right. It's amazing, how those little yellow pills could completely change the world."

"Science." She said superiorly. "Better than superpowers any day. Now go."

"Yeah." He climbed into the machine, activated the engines. Just before he closed the cover, he called. "I'll be back soon!"

"I expect you home for breakfast in an hour, young man!" She waved at him, tears gathering in her eyes. Trunks felt moisture in his own, too. They both knew there was a possibility he might not be coming back.

The time machine rose into the air, and Trunks went back to stop the apocalypse.

---

Bulma watched her son vanish in time, amazed at how much he was like them. All of them, those brave, strong warriors she had known for so long. So like Goku. So like his father. So like Gohan.

Well, no time to reminisce now. She had work to do today. She had to increase the efficiency of the city's water purifiers, get to work on a better way to generate energy, finish that light refractor...What she really needed to do, Bulma thought as she reached the house, was clone herself. Or at least automate the coffee maker and synch it with her neural patterns so it would just make the life-giving drink whenever she was awake. Or maybe...

Hold on.

In the doorway, something Trunks had said suddenly registered. "Yellow pills?" Bulma's eyes widened and she ran back out, staring at the sky where the time machine had jumped to a different reality.

Had he said yellow pills?

"Oh, shit."

---

It was time. Gohan sat on his bed, dressing for battle. They had eaten a full breakfast, and then Piccolo had returned from wherever it was he had been, obviously miffed about something and just as obviously not interested in discussing it. All he had to do was finish putting his clothes on and they could leave.

He had put away the jacket that wouldn't be made for another eighteen years, doing his best to push it out of his mind. Stupid, ungrateful Trunks. Here Gohan was going to save the world for him, and he hadn't even had the decency to say goodbye.

Pulling the heavy-collared shirt over his head, Gohan held onto that thought. If he was to think about the man from the future, it would be with negativity. Not longing. He had been emotionally unstable last night, that was all. He bent down to put his shoes on.

"Come on, Gohan! We've got to go!"

"I'm coming, dad!" Wrestling his second foot in, Gohan stood up, then sat back down and put a finger in the neck of each shoe and pulled, hoping to stretch them a bit. They had fit just fine yesterday. Actually, they still fit fine, just they were too tight around his ankles.

Oh, well, he could live with the discomfort. If they didn't all die today, he'd ask his mom for a bigger pair. Gohan stood and hurried out of the room to join his father just outside the front door, glancing at the clock as he did so. Nine minutes after nine. Fifty-one minutes to go.

Outside, Chi-Chi was having a small argument with Goku—inasmuch as any argument she involved herself in was small—trying to shove something into his arms while Piccolo stood a few feet away glaring impatiently. "Take it, Goku! I will not have my son starving to death because you couldn't be bothered to carry his lunch!"

"Chi-Chi! We can't carry that into battle with us! It'll just get in the way."

"Now, you listen..."

"Mom, it's okay." Gohan grabbed her elbow from behind and she turned on her heel to face him, arms full of a huge wrapped-up lunch, undoubtedly made fresh that morning. "We'll be fine."

Chi-Chi's eyes teared up as she looked down at her son, and she dropped the packed meal and crouched into a rib-cracking hug. "Yes, you'll be fine. My smart Gohan. My strong little man. I love you."

"I love you too, mom."

Chi-Chi pulled away from him with obvious effort, and threw herself on her husband, nearly knocking the strongest man on Earth from his feet. "You come back here, you understand? You make sure you both come back to me."

"Of course, Chi-Chi. We'll be back before you know it, you watch." Goku grabbed his wife by the shoulders and gently separated them, stepping away from her to join Piccolo and beckoning Gohan to follow with a nod. "It's time for us to go."

Gohan stood in front of his father, who briefly patted him on the shoulder. "We'll be okay, mom." He said again. "Everything's doing to be fine." And then all three of them were in the air, so fast that it would have appeared to Chi-Chi that they had simply vanished, and were miles away in an instant.

It was a twenty-three minute flight, at average speed. Gohan knew, because he'd made Piccolo and his father do it the other day so they would know how early to leave. Just as bad as being late, after all, would have been arriving an hour early and having to wait. But as they flew, Gohan couldn't help but wonder if they'd somehow measured the time improperly; it seemed to be taking forever to get there.

"Slow down, Gohan." Goku said suddenly, breaking a silence that felt like it had stretched for half an hour. "We'll get there soon enough, no need to waste energy."

"Yeah, okay." He didn't feel like arguing with his father right now, telling him that they were already late. It would do not good. He wished he'd brought a watch, then he would at least know exactly how long this was taking. Maybe they were going the wrong way? But no, there was that river, the one that forked in the middle of a town and split it in three sections. Only halfway there.

Was today even the right day? It didn't seem like three years had passed since the day that Trunks...the day that they had been warned of the Androids. Pushing the irrelevant information out of his head, Gohan tried to think. He had been about a month from his eighth birthday when Tru...Goku had returned, and his eleventh was in two weeks, so maybe it was the right year after all. He could have sworn that it was less than two. All the training had just blended together after a while, making everything seem like one long day...Gohan shook his head. Of course it was the right day. Stop worrying about it. Maybe they had flown too fast in their test run, and that was why it was taking so long.

"Hey, Gohan!" The voice from above him was startlingly loud. Gohan flipped upside down in surprise.

"Krillin? How long have you been up there?" The bald warrior was just above him, looking down at the boy strangely.

"For like, five minutes, buddy. I've been trying to get your attention. Where have you been?"

Really? Now that Gohan thought about it, he had been hearing the sounds of conversation between Krillin, his father and Piccolo for the last few minutes. He'd been ignoring them, so wrapped up in trying to figure out the mysteries of time that he hadn't even sensed Krillin's energy. "I was, uh, thinking about something. Sorry."

"Hey, it's okay, little guy. Everyone gets nervous, right? It's totally normal." Krillin looked around and realized that this rationalization wasn't going to fly in the present company. "Well, I'm nervous, anyway. I mean, if these Androids are as strong as that guy says, we're in trouble, for sure."

"What guy?"

"Duh, Gohan. The guy from the future? You know, turned Frieza and his big nasty dad into cold cuts? Super Saiyan? Big sword?"

"Oh, right. him." Gohan was a little surprised Krillin remembered Trunks, that was all. The man from the future hadn't really been that impressive. Goku could have done the same thing to Frieza, easy. Just because the Androids were stronger than Trunks didn't mean anything. So was his father.

"Hey, there it is!" Goku called out, pointing at an island that had appeared just in front of them.

"Finally." Gohan muttered. It must be at least ten-thirty by now. But the city on the island was still standing, so that was a good sign. Unless, of course, it was the wrong city or something, and the Androids were currently demolishing someone on the other side of the planet.

A mountain abutted the city, and it was to there that Krillin pointed. "Look, there's Yamcha and Bulma. Hey, guys!" And he broke off, headed toward the small plateau on which they stood. Gohan followed, as did his father and Piccolo.

Greetings abounded, and everyone made exclamations about Bulma's new baby, which Gohan ignored. "Are we late? What time is it?"

"Chill out, Gohan." The only woman on the rock waved her free hand at him dismissively. "It's only nine-thirty."

"But Bulma," Goku said, obviously picking up on some part of the previous conversation that Gohan had blocked out. "You really shouldn't be here. It's not safe, especially with a baby!"

"Yeah, what's with that, anyway?" Krillin cut in, leaning closer to inspect the infant, and then out to address both the mother and Yamcha. "What made you guys decide to pick now to have a kid?"

"We don't have a kid." Yamcha grumbled, leaning against the mountain with his eyes closed.

"Wait, you're not the father, Yamcha? Then who..." Krillin kept talking, but Gohan stopped listening again. He was focusing on the topic of this conversation, laying content in his mother's arms.

I know that baby. Or rather, he knew the adult that baby was going to grow into. He didn't need his father's stepping forward and ruining Bulma's surprise by telling everyone the baby's name, or outing Vegeta as the father, to know.

It was Trunks.

The Earth stopped rotating for a moment and Gohan stepped forward without realizing he was doing it, until he was right in front of Bulma. Still not in full control of himself, Gohan reached up a hand and hovered it over the baby, suddenly hesitant as he realized what he was doing. He started to pull the hand back.

A little hand reached up and wrapped itself around one of Gohan's fingers tightly. Gohan stopped breathing. Trunks smiled.

"Aw, look, Gohan. He likes you." Bulma's voice drifted to his ears from far away. Then the paralyzing contact was broken as Trunks was lifted by his mother so she could look the baby in the face. "You like Gohan, don't you Trunks?" She baby-talked at him. "You're going to grow up to be smart and strong, just like Gohan, aren't you?"

"Uh...Bulma?" His father's oldest friend turned her attention back to him, and Gohan gulped. He hadn't really meant to speak, but now he had no choice but to finish. "Can I...is it alright if I, uh...hold him?"

Bulma laughed out loud. "Is it alright? Sweetie, if you were a little older, I'd be asking you to babysit for me! Of course you can hold him." She looked at her son again. "Do you want to go so Gohan? Yes, you do, don't you? You like Gohan."

So, Gohan ended up holding baby Trunks, which turned out to be more complicated an endeavour than it looked. Once Bulma had shown him where to put his hands and how to put the baby's head on his shoulder, it was much easier, but still weird.

He was left a little to his own devices when Tien arrived a moment later, and Bulma wandered off a short way to greet him. The three-eyed man was giving some sort of explanation for his lateness involving Chiaotzu not wanting him to leave alone, but Gohan had stopped listening to the adults again.

This was it. This was the reason, this little baby drooling on his shoulder, clinging with little hands onto his shirt. This was why he would fight. Man from the future or no, Gohan would not allow this baby to be hurt.

He would not allow anything bad to happen to Trunks.

"I promise you, Trunks." He said softly to the top of the baby's head, hugging his gently, as he was afraid to hurt him. "I promise I won't let you grow up in a world that's been destroyed. I promise you won't have to spend your whole life fighting. I promise you'll be happy. I promise to protect you." He realized he was crying, and made an effort to stop, wiping his eyes as best he could on his shoulder. "I promise I'll never leave you without saying goodbye." Why was it so hard to stop crying? He wasn't sad. "I love you, Trunks."

In response to this, Trunks looked up and him and made a sort of laughing noise, reaching up and hitting Gohan's chin with an uncoordinated hand.

"Ah, look at you two getting along so well!" Bulma had materialized out of thin air to stand behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I just knew you'd be friends...hey, Gohan, are you okay? You're crying, kiddo."

"Ah, yeah." Gohan again vigourously wiped his face on his shoulder. "I just...uh...didn't sleep well last night."

"Oh, you were nervous, right? Well, don't worry about it! You'll all do fine today. Won't they, Trunks? They'll do fine!" Even though she was baby-talking again, Gohan couldn't shake the feeling that she was talking more to herself than to her son.

And then Gohan felt it. It just appeared right over the city, as if from nowhere. From the sudden exclamations of the assembled warriors, he wasn't the only one.

"Hey, what's going on, everyone?" Bulma said, turning back to the adults, baby Trunks momentarily forgotten. "What's the deal?"

"O-out over the city." Gohan managed. He was facing the mountain and hadn't turned. Clutching Trunks a little tighter, he thought, No! I'm not ready yet! The infant made a sound of protest, and Gohan relaxed his hold.

"Oh, I see it now." Bulma voice sounded more distant, as she had walked away from him to get closer. "What is it? There's still twenty minutes before the Androids are supposed to appear. Are they early?"

It's okay. Gohan forced himself to calm down, blocking out all the unwanted emotions. No time for that now. I can do this. I've known this was coming for three years. Just turn around.

Still holding baby Trunks like a lifeline, Gohan turned around.

---

With very little ado, Trunks winked into existence above the island that, in his time, was completely sunken and destroyed but for half of the mountain at one end.

"Welcome to the past." He muttered to himself. "Where the local time is nine-forty and the sky is clear with just a hint of apocalypse in the forecast." Trunks sighed, not finding any humour in his commentary. He tried, because Gohan had used to think he was funny, but there wasn't much to joke about anymore. "Man, I wish that was just a joke."

Sensing the power of the Earth's warriors, Trunks steered the time machine towards the mountain, checking the energy gauges as he went. All halfway. He wished the machine could have had enough energy to make more than two trips before needing to be recharged, but that was the way things went. It just meant he would have to go home before he went anywhere else. Not that he had plans to go on a transchronological vacation or anything.

He went as slowly as possible, telling himself he was conserving energy but really just stalling. Gohan was on that mountain. Even though he was excited, Trunks was a little bit nervous as well. How would the boy react to seeing him after three years? Would he smile, that perfect smile that lit up the room? Would he run and jump into a hug with Trunks? Hopefully not, the man from the future thought, blushing. That would lead to some awkward questions. Hopefully Gohan could restrain himself until they were alone. Hopefully Trunks could restrain himself that long, too.

Forcing his nervousness aside, Trunks gunned the engine, reaching the mountain in under a minute. His landing kicked up a bit of dust, obscuring the warriors from view for the moment. The top of the time machine opened, and he leapt out right in front of the small crowd. A baby was crying in the back.

There they all were. His mother, Goku (the medicine had worked!), Krillin, Tien, Yamcha, Piccolo... all these people he had grown up hearing about. Wait, hold on. Where was his father? Where was Gohan? He was being asked a lot of questions. "Guys, guys. I can only have one conversation at a time."

"Yeah, guys." Goku laughed. "Come on, Trunks just got here. Leave him be for a sec."

Trunks resisted the urge to slap his face. "Trunks?" His mother asked. "Your name is Trunks too?" She looked him up and down, measuring him with her eyes. "How wild. That's my son's name." He had heard that tone before. It was Bulma’s ‘I detect a mystery’ voice.

"Yeah, wow. That's...uh...a coincidence, huh?" Trunks muttered. Geez, Goku!

"It sure is. Hmm." She turned around and moved away from him, the gap she had left in the crowd revealing him.

Gohan. He stood there, looking not at him but at the baby he held, doing his best to comfort the child. The infant was no longer crying as it had been when Trunks had arrived, but he could see that tears still lined young eyes.

Blue eyes.

Gohan still hadn't seemed to notice him—perhaps he was avoiding it so ensure he didn't do something they would both have to explain. In any case, it gave him time to look at the baby.

It didn't take much study, since Bulma approached Gohan and ticked his chin. "Did that big time machine scare you, Trunks?"

I think I hate time travel. Gohan was holding him. Trunks approached, and froze in his tracks as Gohan finally looked at him.

And then looked past him without stopping, up to his mother. "I think he got some dust in his eyes."

"Oh, no! Do your eyes hurt?" She plucked the baby from Gohan's arms and held him aloft. "But Gohan made it all better, didn't he? Didn't he?" Little Trunks laughed as he was lifted into the air.

"H-hi, Gohan." Trunks broke in, knowing he sounded silly, but not caring. It wasn't like they had to pretend they had never met.

"Hi." Gohan looked at him again, just for a second. An emotionless look, given to a stranger he had met on the street. Then he turned back to Bulma and the baby.

"Don't you worry, Trunks." His mother was saying to his infantile self. "You like Gohan, don't you? You know Gohan will never hurt you, right Trunks?" The baby laughed again, and Gohan blushed and looked at the ground.

You're wrong mom. Of course he will. Trunks marveled at the way gravity was suddenly so strong as to keep him rooted in one place. He wondered if the sudden lack of oxygen in the world was due to their high altitude. He just did.

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End chapter
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Okay, so I'm going to try and sort of gloss over all the stuff that we already know about, but the story is taking place during the Androids/Cell sagas, obviously, so there will be a bit of that going on. I have some ideas to make it a little less 'same old, same old,' though.

Thing #2: I haven't started chapter 3 yet (which sounds normal but really isn't for me), and have no time to do so in the next little bit, so it may be a while before it's up. Sorry, all.

And lastly, I put a word in here that I heard from the mouth of a brain surgeon. First person to find it and tell me what it means (my email's in my profile if you don't want to review) gets to pick the pairing for my next pointless oneshot! Yay!

...Why did I just do that? Shit.