His teacher

Whew. That was not as long a delay as I thought. Cool stuff, but don't get used to it.


Veronica: Sorry, hun. The plot will be getting in the way of the smut for a few more chapters, yet. It is around the corner, but it’s a long corner. Thank you so much for saying that, though. I really appreciate knowing that people (person) think that I’m characterizing/plotting well.

Lunamaru: Don’t worry! See, reading the chapter a month and a half after it comes out has its advantages too—you don’t have to wait as long as everyone else did! But wow, I really hope you don’t think all of those happily ever after things will be happening in this chapter. Because...yeah.

Ryuiki: Here you go! More! In the form of the longest chapter yet. Yay? Maybe.


Now, I put that violence warning up last chapter. If you go back outside, you’ll notice that I put a new warning up for this one as well. Just saying is all.

---
Chapter 6: Hurt
---

Gohan tried to catch his breath again as he looked down the long furrow that had been dug when he'd crashed into the male android's cybernetic belly, throwing every bit of spare energy he had at it. It had worked, judging by how far away they had ended up. He had even gotten both of them.

They matched the descriptions Trunks had given them of Androids Seventeen and Eighteen perfectly. A boy and a girl, very good looking, and ready to kill everyone they saw. That they were already getting up after an attack like what he had launched was something of a hint, too. Added to the fact that all of his friends and Trunks were lying around the canyon floor in varying degrees of injury ranging from severe to almost dead, Gohan felt safe in drawing that conclusion.

He glanced over at Chiaotzu, the only person besides him who was standing. He was just barely managing it, and was holding one hand over a bleeding wound in the area where his right lung was, but he had gotten up and put himself between Tien and the enemy. He too was staring down at the androids as though planning to fight them again.

Discarding the obvious question of why the telepath was here, Gohan reached into his front pocket and took out the Senzu beans. "Chiaotzu, here." The little warrior caught them in his unoccupied hand and stared at them for a second, as if not knowing what to do with them. Only after a moment did he turn and all but fall onto Tien to give the other man one.

"It's an epidemic." The android who could only be Seventeen announced. He and Eighteen had stood and now were dusting off their torn clothes. He continued. "Tiny little people, falling from the sky all over the place. Somebody should really do something about it." There was something in the way he spoke that made Gohan shiver.

But he couldn't back away now. Gohan took a quick glance at Trunks, because that was who was closest to him. He was unconscious and covered in his own blood, a line of it running down from his mouth. Several of his bones were clearly broken. The younger half-Saiyan shifted his gaze back to the androids. No, he wouldn't let them scare him. He was the only one who could stop them from killing everyone now.

Seventeen charged at him, intent plain on his face. And that was why it wouldn't work. Gohan made himself vanish, appearing at the android's shoulder and spinning into an inside kick to the head, sending the future destroyer of the world straight into the nearby wall of rock.

He landed just in time to see Eighteen charging the same way. Stupid. She would be expecting the same attack against her, so this time when Gohan disappeared it wasn't up but back, just far enough to avoid her punch. He saw mild surprise on her face as he grabbed her wrist and spun her around, throwing her into the cliff as well.

"Is that the best you've got?" He called out. "How am I suppose to be scared of you when I can see your moves on your faces before you make them?"

"Hm." Seventeen had stood, wiping his mouth. "A couple of lucky hits does not a winner make, kid."

Because he had a feeling it would infuriate the android, Gohan cocked his head to one side and said, "Really? How many does it take?" All part of the plan. Be as spontaneous as possible. An off-balance enemy was easier to beat. That had been the lesson, that day when...

To his surprise, Seventeen laughed. "I like you, kid. Gohan, right? I think I'll keep you alive for a while." Somehow, that did not come off as benevolent as it sounded.

"No, Seventeen." Eighteen brushed some dust off her sleeve, not that it made much difference. "I want to kill him. Nobody makes me look bad like that."

"But he could be so much fun! Look." Seventeen raised a hand and shot two energy bolts before Gohan could blink, but neither were aimed at him. He turned and saw Tien and Chiaotzu, who had just gotten up after being healed, sprawled on the ground and bleeding where the shots had perforated their chests.

Gohan turned back to the androids, forcing himself not to move. It was what Seventeen wanted. He was supposed to charge blindly and get pummelled in return. It took every ounce of his not inconsiderable will to keep his feet planted where they were.

"See? He wants to badly to kill me that he's quivering with it, but he stands there, waiting for the right moment. It's adorable."

"Boy, you have such awful taste, Seventeen." Eighteen sighed tolerantly. "Fine. I'll tell you what. If he's still alive in five minutes, you can keep him, okay?" The two of them were keeping most of their attention on him the whole time, not leaving him any opportunity to attack.

"Deal. Don't disappoint me, Gohan. I have high hopes for you."

Gohan didn't have time to say anything snarky in return, as Eighteen flew at him again. He would have sighed had there been more time. The same head-on charge again. The theory was obviously that she now could anticipate what he was doing to do: disappear, attack from unexpected angle, get caught and beat up.

Not bloody likely, that.

The half-Saiyan stayed exactly where he was and when she was close enough, crouched low. Eighteen was flying a few feet off the ground and didn't stop, as she was obviously expecting another trick. She flew right over Gohan's head, and when she did, he sprung up, fists catching her in the stomach and carrying her into the sky.

She rolled off of him about twenty feet in the air, getting below him. Gohan stopped and turned to look down. Eighteen was floating horizontal, holding her hands up at him. He avoided half a dozen energy balls and tossed two of his own, arced to intersect and cause twice the explosion. Gohan saw her mouth the words 'oh, please' before they collided right in front of her, the explosion blocking the android from view.

He raced down, caught her in the middle with his knuckles again, and torpedoed her into the ground. The impact knocked dust in the air to the level of the road, and to this upper limit Gohan flew again. They couldn’t sense him or else they would have avoided his initial attack; they had to rely on sight. If he just stayed where they couldn't see him...

Gohan powered and energy beam with as much strength as he dared, knowing he had another enemy to beat after Eighteen. The power in the beam forced him up incrementally until he was out of the cloud, and level with the face of the enormous man standing there, watching the fight.

Who... But he wasn't attacking, so after the brief second of eye contact Gohan broke off and down, between the dust cloud and Seventeen. Eighteen hadn't gotten up. If he could just get this one down for a few seconds and get the Senzu beans to everyone...

Seventeen clapped his hands slowly. "Good job, Gohan. I knew you could do it." Sounding for all the world as though he were congratulating a toddler on recognizing the colour blue.

The half-Saiyan vanished again, getting behind the android. Gohan waited until he turned to follow, then used his father's afterimage technique to keep the electronic gaze aimed down for a second longer while he leapt, quickly firing an energy bolt into Seventeen's eyes.

The wordless yell that followed was as surprising as it was satisfying. Seventeen brought one hand to his face in pain or surprise, but his other arm shot out reflexively—If androids had reflexes—and hit Gohan square in the chest with the force of a cannon, which launched him back into something cold and metallic.

He didn't even bother wondering how Eighteen had gotten there when seconds before she'd been lying in a crater fifteen feet away. Besides the answer being obvious, he was busy trying to remember how to breathe. Gohan wasn't foolish enough to think that Seventeen's strike had actually stopped his heart, but it certainly felt that way for a few seconds as he tried pay attention to anything but the crushing pain radiating through his chest.

Slowly it faded; not disappearing—he was pretty sure his sternum was broken, and rather wished his mother hadn't made him learn anatomy, because knowing the name of it somehow made it worse—but becoming just bearable. Just. Only then did Gohan register where he was and what he was hearing.

"...wasn't expecting you to come flying into my arms, but that works too. And I still have a couple of minutes before I have to kill you. Too bad for you." Some basic instinct took over and Gohan found himself kicking and struggling to escape the iron grip Eighteen had on his upper arms.

"Aha, just when I was thinking you'd just lay there and not make it fun." She casually put his left arm behind his back as far as it would go—and then kept going. Gohan screamed as he felt the muscles and bones in his shoulder tear and crack. "You know, I kind of thought you would try to be all stoic and unfeeling for a few seconds first, but I guess this works too."

"I expected so much more from you, Gohan." It was Seventeen talking, right in front of him. Gohan didn't see him, because he was looking down at the ground trying not to throw up. A cold hand grabbed his jaw and yanked his head upwards, so he was face-to-face with the android. Gohan still couldn't really see him behind all the white spots in front of his eyes.

Eighteen released his shoulder and the pain abated somewhat. It was still there, but Gohan was able to think about something other than how much it hurt again. Seventeen continued talking, but not to him. "Can't you see how much more fun he'd be alive?"

"Maybe." Eighteen conceded. "But I'd still be more satisfied if he were dead." Snaking one arm around his chest to hold him up, she lifted his right hand up to her face and stroked it in hers for a moment, before taking his little finger in hand and bending it backwards until it broke. Gohan tried not to yell again, but it was like trying not to sleep when he was tired.

He managed to get by with just another shout at the second finger, but when she bent his middle one back, before it was even broken Gohan began to cry. He had been hurt before, badly, but always in a fight. Never like this. It was worse this way, just being methodically broken until he couldn’t think straight any longer. He would have done anything to make her stop.

The two androids continued arguing and Eighteen continued hurting him, but it didn't take very long for even his own shouts to become distant. He pulled into his head, like the child he was, trying vainly to find somewhere to hide. He tried, in a sense, to put himself into the box, so he wouldn't have to think about it anymore.

But one more crunch of bone—Eighteen had moved down from his fingers and was now systematically breaking his hand—and it became impossible. It was all just too much. It was too much to ignore. This, his dad, his mom, Trunks...everything. It wouldn't all fit. And the effort to keep it in the box was just too great, more than he was capable of right now. He didn't have the mental control to talk, never mind ignore most of the last three years of his life.

It all hit him like an emotional tidal wave, and Gohan cried out with pain that was entirely unrelated to what his body was feeling. His worry about his mother, his mixed feelings about his dad, the anger at Trunks, and something else entirely that he couldn't identify, also directed a the time traveler, all of it burst into the front of him mind at once, each demanding he pay to it the attention he'd denied it all this time.

"Aren't you worried you're going to kill him too fast? He looks like he's going into shock."

"Oh, what do you know? He's fine. He can just wait and die when I'm ready for him to."

That was almost what his dad had said that day. Well, not the part about waiting to die, but still. Tenuous connection though it was, their exchange somehow summoned a memory, one that had been particularly intrusive the last little while. Gohan embraced it, thinking that at least if he focused on that, awful as it was, it would drown out everything else for a while, until...

"Dad, are you sure it's okay for us to go? Maybe we should go back..."

"It's alright, Gohan. Don't worry about it."

"But..." The forest zoomed underneath them as they flew to wherever Goku planned on training today. "It sounded like whatever Mom wanted to tell you was important."

"Don't worry about it, son. She's fine. She can wait until we get home tonight, she said so herself."

Of course, she had said that after Goku had lamented how late they were today and wondered out loud how much time they would have to train if they didn't leave soon. What else was she going to say? Of course it can wait until you get home, dear. It's fine, it'll keep until tonight.

"I know, but..." finishing that sentence would have been pointless, as Goku had disappeared. Literally. Gohan stopped and looked all around, and his father was nowhere to be found. "Dad?" He raised his guard, preparing for him to appear from somewhere and attack.

Goku reappeared a moment later, holding a big blue sack. "I forgot to grab lunch when we left." He said, smiling.

"Oh." Gohan felt kind of silly, immediately thinking he needed to defend himself like that. Lunch. Of course.

In a way he felt almost insulted when his father vanished, appeared behind him and sent Gohan hurtling down into the forest below. It seemed like a pretty elaborate distraction just get one hit in.

Gohan didn't waste breath complaining or asking why, he just got up and scanned the sky for Goku. The full-blooded Saiyan appeared on the ground, not three feet away from him in the shade of a massive tree. "Surprise."

The boy didn't find himself in the mood for surprises, nor did he particularly feel like playing along. He said nothing, just turned and raised his guard.

"Good, that's good, Gohan. Now, the reason why I did that is because one of the most effective ways to win a battle, especially if you're outmatched, is to do something your enemy isn't expecting. They can't stop you from doing something they can't anticipate."

"Right." Gohan took just one second while his dad was talking to make sure his box was sealed shut. The annoyance with himself at not predicting that attack, curiosity or worry about whatever it was his mother wanted to tell his father, all went in there. It was the only way to stop himself from getting hurt too badly.

So much for that lesson. Goku had failed to mention that it didn't work if the enemy was leagues stronger.

The half-Saiyan was shaken from the memory when he was abruptly turned upside-down, his torn shoulder protesting as it fell above his head and his wrecked right hand hanging limp and misshapen. He didn't even have the energy to care why. It couldn't be that much longer until the five minutes were up.

"I know." Eighteen said conversationally as she removed one of his shoes and tossed it away. "Maybe we should ask him what he wants."

"Hm. Not a bad idea, Eighteen." Seventeen crouched down beside Gohan, unblocking his view of what had been the battlefield. From where he hung, Gohan was looking straight at Trunks, laying broken on a pile of blood-stained rocks. Eighteen grabbed one of his toes and twisted, but he had already started crying again.

Seventeen continued speaking. "So, what'll it be, Gohan? Would you prefer me, or my loving sister? It's totally up to you."

He focused on Trunks in the distance because it gave him something to look at other than the android. Something inside of him felt...funny. Like it was about to break open. Gohan didn't know what it was, but he was pretty sure he'd felt it before. He couldn't remember...

Maybe he was dying.

"Hey, are you even paying attention to me?" Seventeen snapped slender fingers in front of Gohan's eyes. "Hello? I'm over here; what are you looking at?" The android turned and followed his line of sight, spotting Trunks in his pile of rubble. "What? You think he's going to magically get up and save you? He's dead. Or as close as makes no difference."

It felt like there was a bottled tornado inside of him, and Gohan could practically feel the glass cracking. Somehow those last two sentences made it accelerate, the idea that Trunks might be dead making him...

"Oh, I get it. Maybe you like him? Little Gohan has his first crush. How cute."

Whether it was the words that did it or it was just a coincidence Gohan didn't know, but the bottle broke, and he felt himself filled with that tornado, sudden power seeping into every space in his body. It shaped the world around him, whipping up a wind that seemed to emanate from him.

Neither android seemed to notice that their captive was about to explode. Seventeen kept talking. "I'll tell you what. I'll keep him too and let you play with him when..."

"What are you doing?" Eighteen interrupted, half-turning regard something to her right. Gohan didn't get to see what it was, because at the same time all the power burst from him with a wordless yell, the wave of energy he produced separating the half-Saiyan from the two androids.

He landed lightly on the ground a few feet away and, ignoring the pain in his now broken foot, launched himself at Eighteen. In his current state, he was certain he could blow her to pieces.

Either he had overestimated his own strength or his injuries were slowing him down significantly. Eighteen put a hand on his forehead to stop him and kneed him in the chest before blasting him back to lay in a daze on the ground, all of that power dissipating as suddenly as it had manifested as he lost consciousness. It was all over.

I'm... But he didn't know what he was, and the world went white.

---

Sixteen was not programmed with any sort of empathy or compassion. Thus, what happened to the son of Goku, or to Piccolo, Tien, Chiaotzu, Vegeta, the unknown young man or even to Krillin right beside him held no interest for him.

Nevertheless. Something about the situation unfolding beneath him did not seem proper. It was...wrong. Wrong, that Seventeen and Eighteen should be treating Gohan that way. He was a child, and human society had very specific parameters for the treatment of children. This most certainly fell outside those parameters.

Seventeen and Eighteen, of course, were not human and thus were exempt from such prohibitions. However, their very nature, rather than allowing them to perpetrate such acts, should stop them from doing so. Sixteen knew he would find it impossible to act as they were in this situation, unless it would help him locate Goku. This was not helping the other two achieve that, and besides, he already knew where Goku was, so there was no need.

He found the whole circumstance...distasteful.

The huge android uncrossed his arms and turned away from the scene below, striding two steps to tower over Krillin, didn't look up. From his vantage point, the dying man could not see what was happening to Gohan, but surely he could hear the screams. "You said earlier that your prime goal in fighting was to prolong the lives of your friends. Tell me, is all of this...resistance nothing but a means of delaying us from reaching Goku?"

"I don't know." Krillin said weakly. He was losing strength much more rapidly than Sixteen had anticipated. "We only jumped into the fight because that guy was attacking Trunks. We were going to fly right over you to get to Goku first."

"I see." Sixteen's logic processor told him that Trunks must be the name of the unknown man. Seventeen had instigated that fight; Trunks himself had also been trying to fly over unnoticed. "Then it was not your intention to fight us?"

"Not yet, no."

"Very well." Sixteen performed a short time calculation before leaning over to pluck Krillin from the ground. The man voiced half a protest before falling silent as he lost consciousness, the shift in position intensifying bleeding in his abdomen.

If Sixteen's hypothesis was incorrect, Krillin would now die in less than three minutes.

He walked to the edge of what remained of the road and kept going, descending as swiftly as was safe for the human and landing some feet from where his comrades were standing.

"What are you doing?" He chose not to answer Eighteen, assuming that she would be sufficiently distracted by the outburst of power Gohan suddenly erupted with. Sixteen himself was surprised. He had not projected the boy to be capable of such an increase.
But it was irrelevant at this time. Such power, Sixteen calculated, would be capable of even destroying Seventeen or Eighteen. But he could sense that it was unstable; reliant, he suspected, on the emotion Gohan was feeling, if his facial expression was any judge, and would vanish once that emotion abated. Further, in the boy's injured condition, his body was no match for the androids, even if his energy was.

Indeed, as Sixteen lay Krillin on the ground beside Tien and Chiaotzu, Eighteen easily halted Gohan's charge and knocked him back. The boy lost consciousness just as Sixteen picked up one of the little beans scattered on the ground around where Chiaotzu had fallen and forced it into Krillin's mouth.

He had watched Tien and Chiaotzu heal their injuries with such a bean. Sixteen did not know what they were; there was no vegetation on this planet, according to his records, that was capable of system-wide regeneration of human tissue. Yet it had worked. And it followed, then, that Krillin should be healed.

Within seconds, the wound on Krillin's scalp closed of its own accord, and Sixteen's scanners detected that the internal organs and arteries were repairing themselves as well. Interesting. He picked up another bean and examined it, but could find no explanation in the biochemical makeup of the legume.

"Sixteen, what are you doing?" Seventeen demanded, approaching him.

The larger android stood, placing the bean in a storage compartment on his right forearm. "It is time for us to leave, Seventeen."

"I don't think that's for you to decide." Eighteen had gone over to where Gohan lay, and was poking him with her foot. Sixteen strode over to her.

"These people present no threat to us. There is no reason to remain here."

"Like Seventeen said." Eighteen put a foot on Gohan's left leg, just above the ankle. "Not your decision."

"This is not helping us find Goku." In order to get her attention, he grabbed her wrist and spun her to face him before she could step down.

"Let go of me!" Eighteen struggled to free herself, but only succeeded when Sixteen opened his fingers.

"My, my." Seventeen said, coming over to join them. "The silent giant's found his voice. Well, fine. I suppose it's not up to us, is it? Let's go kill Goku and get it over with, then we can do what we want."

"Whatever." Eighteen looked past him to Krillin, who had pulled himself into a sitting position. He looked up as Sixteen turned as well, and saw all three androids looking at him, fear evident. "See you later." Eighteen smiled and blew him a kiss before leaping into the air.

Seventeen followed more slowly, smirking. "You have terrible taste in men, Eighteen."

"Oh, shut up; so do you." A sigh. "My clothes are trashed. I need new ones."

Sixteen followed them, casting one glance backwards. Krillin was gathering the healing beans from the ground and dispensing them to his friends. Good. There was no need for anyone to die.

Except, of course, for Goku.

---

Sound came back before anything else, cutting through the white to reach him gradually. "...Okay? Gohan? Come on, Gohan, snap out of it."

Shape returned next, but not much else. There was a person leaning over him. That must be who was talking to him.

"Gohan?"

All at once the rest of it came back to him, how to talk, move, everything that had happened. He shivered. "Trunks?" The sun was in his eyes; he couldn't see who it was. The voice was familiar.

"No, it's me, kiddo." Krillin helped him sit up. "You got beat up pretty bad. You okay?"

"Yeah." No. His chest still hurt where he had been struck by both androids. It started in the centre and went all the way up to his left shoulder, where it had been torn. Another faulty Senzu bean, apparently. He would live, though. It was already fading, from the sharp pain it had been when he sat up to a duller throb.

Gohan suddenly remembered where he was and sprung to his feet. "Where are they?" He looked all around, but could see nobody but the other warriors. Trunks, Vegeta and Piccolo were still out of it, but Tien and Chiaotzu were helping each other up again. "What happened?"

"They left." Krillin shrugged. "The big guy came down, gave me a Senzu bean and just made them both leave. I'm not asking questions."

"I guess..." How strange. The third android? Why hadn't they just killed everyone first? "Wait! That means they're going after my dad right now!"

Krillin's expression turned serious. "Yeah. We gotta get everyone up and running again so we can get there first. Here." He handed the much smaller bag of beans to Gohan, plucking one out. "I'll go get Piccolo; you do Trunks and Vegeta."

"Yeah, okay." He took the bag and headed over to where father and son lay a few feet apart. Purely because Trunks was closer, Gohan headed to him first, scrambling a little bit up the pile of rocks he was lying on to get to his head. Trunks wasn't moving at all, not even his chest as he breathed. If he was breathing.

Gohan didn't know how to check a pulse, so he put his ear to the older half-Saiyan's chest to listen for his heart. If he was dead...Gohan's whole body felt cold. If he was...

He wasn't. A heartbeat, very slow, was most definitely sounding in the time traveler's chest. Gohan ignored the wash of relief he suddenly felt and sat up.

Reaching into the bag—and telling himself that his hands had just started shaking because he was worried about his parents and friends—the boy glared down at Trunks. "What's wrong with you? You almost died. You should be more careful." He pulled out a bean—one of only three left—and carefully worked it between the older's lips.

"You're so stupid. Why didn't you wait for me? I could have helped you." But the words were just words. He couldn't feel the anger that was supposed to be behind them any longer. Just words.

The relief he had felt at hearing the heartbeat increased tenfold when the injuries Trunks had acquired started healing instantaneously. He was going to be okay. Gohan felt so much warmer all of the sudden, though he hadn’t been aware of being cold. "Trunks?" He wasn't going to make the man wake up by himself, after all. Vegeta could wait a second.

Trunks didn't move for a few seconds while the bean did its work. He made a series of groaning sounds and then quietly said, "Gohan?"

"It's okay, Trunks. You're okay."

"M'kay." He was still pretty out of it, not quite having returned to full consciousness yet. "Love you, Gohan..."

Those words hit Gohan harder than any of the physical blows he'd received today. The anger filled him again and he stood up, shaking anew, though for a different reason.

"Gohan?"

The younger half-Saiyan ignored the older, stepping over him and stalking towards Vegeta. Idiot. Such an idiot. He wasn't sure which of them he was thinking about. Didn't Trunks ever think of anything but him? No wonder he'd gotten beat up. He deserved it. And Gohan knew he should have known better than to expect anything else from the time traveler.

Vegeta was alive, Gohan saw, forcing himself to think of something besides the man climbing off the rock pile behind him. The Saiyan prince was twitching, and not much else. He was laying on his stomach, and Gohan didn't think it was a good idea to move him, but fortunately his head was turned to once side and his mouth was hanging open. The Senzu bean went in easily, and Gohan straightened to rest on the balls of his feet while he watched to make sure Vegeta swallowed.

There was only one bean left in the bag in his hand, and who knew how long it would take for more to grow? They were going to have to be more careful. Gohan idly wished that his friend Dende were here. The little Namek boy was possessed of an amazing ability to heal with his bare hands, and that could certainly come in handy.

But that was selfish, wanting Dende to be here, in all this. The last time he'd been involved in one of their fights, he'd gotten killed. It wasn't fair of Gohan to wish for him or anyone else to be here, even if it would have been nice to have a friend he could really talk to for a while.

Perhaps it was just because it was so predictable, or maybe Vegeta hadn't quite returned to full strength yet, but when the Saiyan prince shot his arm out at the first thing he could reach—Gohan—the boy easily caught it and stopped it. "Vegeta, it's okay. They're gone."

"Gone?" Vegeta muttered from the ground. "Gone?" A loud shout and another strike, this time accompanied by a miniature explosion of energy. Gohan was thrown back onto his behind, forced to throw a hand out to stop from being put flat on his back. The prince was standing. "How dare they humiliate me like this!" He hollered. "I'll kill them!"

"Vegeta!" Trunks had to shout himself to be heard over the racket his father was making. "Calm down! You did the best you could; just be grateful Gohan came when he did or we'd all be dead!"

"Grateful? I'm to be grateful that I was defeated as easily as a child, and then had to be saved by one? I don't expect you to understand, boy."

Tucking the bag containing the last Senzu bean back into his shirt, Gohan stood, turned and walked away from Vegeta. "You're welcome." He said as he crossed close to the full Saiyan, striding over to where Piccolo stood.

"Hey!" Krillin jumped in. "Gohan fought just as well as you did, Vegeta! So you can just..."

"Doesn't matter, Krillin." The boy said quietly as he passed the bald man by. He really didn't need everyone knowing what had happened just then; it would just lead to a lot of unnecessary questions about whether he was alright. "Just let him go." Because of course that was what Vegeta would do. Leave in a huff, likely to go looking for the androids again. It was his own business. Gohan had already put the prince into his hastily reconstructed box.

"But, Gohan!"

"It's okay. I don't care." And he really didn't. He was worrying about too many things at once to add Vegeta to the list.

Sure enough, Vegeta said, "Fine! You all can stay here and pretend that not having died is some kind of victory, but us real warriors are going to go train. Those androids will regret leaving me alive, I swear it!" An explosion of Super Saiyan power, and Vegeta was in the air.

"Vegeta!" Trunks shouted after him. But it was too late, and unless the older half-Saiyan was willing to chase him, his father was gone. "Damn it!" And even from some feet away, Gohan's better than normal hearing heard him say, "Being left alive is the best victory we can hope for right now."

"Are you okay, Piccolo?" Gohan asked his friend, ignoring Trunks.

"Yeah." He sounded about as angry as Vegeta, though. "Listen, kid. Those androids can't sense energy, but they probably have a good idea where your house is. You've got to go there right away and move your dad to Roshi's place, got it?"

"Right." He should have known better than to expect anything less than complete focus on the current situation from the Namek. He was happy, but in a way also disappointed that Piccolo hadn't asked if he was okay back. Something occurred to him. "Oh! I left Bulma and Yajirobe in the woods! I have to bring them home first!"

"It's okay, dude." Krillin slapped a hand on Gohan’s aching shoulder, making him wince. "We'll go get your dad; you catch up as soon as you can. Although." Now his father's friend leaned in to whisper. "If you wanted to leave the two of them out there for a few days, I don't think anybody'd complain."

Gohan smiled weakly at that. "Thanks, Krillin." Trunks was standing right beside the other man, including himself in the discussion by proximity.

"We should get going, then. You ready, Piccolo?"

"I'm not going with you."

"What? Why not?" Krillin sounded fairly scandalized at this thought.

"Because I’m not, that's why!" Piccolo barked. "I have something else I have to do."

"You do?" Gohan asked. "What is it?" What in the world was more important that this right now?

"I'll tell you later, kid. You guys just get going." The boy nodded, and the Namek smiled. "I'm glad you're okay, Gohan." And he lifted slowly into the air, clearing their heads before speeding off into the sky.

Gohan didn't waste time wondering where Piccolo was going; he knew there must be a good reason. He took a few steps in the direction from which he'd arrived. "Okay, I'm going. See you guys soon."

"Hold on, Gohan. Is it okay if I don't come?" Tien asked just as the boy was about to go airbourne. "Just now, that was...I shouldn't have gotten beat so badly. I want to see if I can get better before I meet them again."

Gohan turned and regarded the man, as well as Chiaotzu, whom he noticed hadn't been included in that. But the smaller telepath was just looking quietly at the ground. "Yeah, sure, Tien. See you later." Why it was that someone that much older than him felt the need to ask his permission to go train was beyond Gohan, but there it was. Tien thanked him and the two flew off, and Gohan turned again to leave.

"Gohan, wait." He paused again, angry this time. Why was it that these people needed to ask him everything?

"What now, Trunks?" He didn't turn around to face the time traveler, nor did he effectively keep the annoyance from his voice.

"Can you give something to my mom?" Trunks didn't sound to be affected by Gohan's anger. Of course, it was entirely possible that he hadn't noticed it. That would be pretty like him.

He was forced to turn so he could see whatever it was Trunks felt Bulma needed to have right this minute. The other half-Saiyan was pulling a small metal case from his coat pocket. He took a capsule out of it and showed it to Gohan. "It's kind of hard to explain, but it's sort of...Dr. Gero's head. It can help her figure out how to deactivate the androids."

Dr. Gero's head? What was that supposed to mean? Whatever. He held out his hand and Trunks gave it to him, his fingers keeping contact with Gohan's longer than the boy thought was necessary. He snatched his arm back and stuffed the capsule in the same pocket as the Senzu beans. Senzu bean, rather.

"Tell my mom I'm okay, and that I'll be back soon." He told Krillin, jumping into the air before either of them could stop him again.

His chest still hurt, but it wasn't a big deal. He just had to get Bulma and Yajirobe—and baby Trunks—home, and he could go see his mom. His dad, he wasn't worried about; Goku was invincible. A stupid heart virus wasn't going to kill him. But Chi-Chi...
Probably because the androids had beaten it out, Gohan couldn't stop the memory of the last time he'd been racing home this quickly from surfacing.

He crouched low to avoid Piccolo’s kick to his head, but then Goku's foot was coming up from the ground at him. Gohan managed to get his hands out and use the rising leg to propel himself straight up, flipping his body as he did so to wrap his legs around his father's neck.

The punch he intended to strike Goku's forehead with was stopped in one hand and he was yanked away from his perch and tossed into a tree. Gohan caught himself in the air, spun and kicked off of the old oak to launch back towards them.

He disappeared and got behind Piccolo, quickly firing off two energy blasts. The Namek blocked them and sent one of his own, taking Gohan in the chest and knocking him onto his back. He got back up, but Goku was in front of him and a kick to his chin filled the world with stars.

"That's enough, Gohan."

Huh? "It...it is?" Shaking his head clear, Gohan rose to his feet.

"You're hardly paying any attention. Aren't you using your box?"

"Yeah..." Except, not really. "I'm, uh...not feeling very well. Can I go home, please?"

"I don't know, Gohan. It's not a good idea to..."

"Please, dad? Just this one time?" He couldn't concentrate on training today. Couldn't shake that feeling that something was wrong with his mom.

"Well, I suppose if you really need to." Goku allowed, some disappointment in his voice.

For once, Gohan paid it no mind. "Thanks, dad. I'll be okay tomorrow, I promise." And he took off without further ado, before Goku changed his mind. He could hear Piccolo talking to his dad as he flew, but didn't listen.

It was kind of silly, really. Chi-Chi was fine. If something was wrong with her she would have said so that morning, rather than just passively letting them leave her alone. Right?

As soon as he was out of sight, he sped as fast as he could towards his house. Only a few minutes to get there. Only a few minutes to be sure.

Gohan shook his head violently. He needed to stop thinking about the past. He had enough things to worry about in the here and now.

The spot where he'd left Bulma and Yajirobe was just ahead. Just a few more minutes. Just a few more...

---

The flight was silent. Tien was like that, when he lost. He got all quiet and introspective, trying to figure out what he had done wrong. It kind of drove Chiaotzu insane, but that was the way Tien was.

That didn't mean the smaller telepath couldn't try to make his friend feel better. Tien? Somehow the silence didn't lend itself to being broken with regular speech. You okay? He was met with that big brick wall again, wrapped tighter around Tien's thoughts than before. But the other could hear him. Tien?

"I'm fine, Chiaotzu." He was angry, though. It was in his voice, but there was something else; his barrier wavered a bit as he spoke, and Chiaotzu felt...something.

"Are you sure?" He was always mad when he lost, but this was somehow different, as though...

"Yes, it's alright. Just..."

As his friend spoke, Chiaotzu again felt that odd feeling from behind the wall. All at once he understood the flavour of Tien's anger, sped in front of the other man and stopped dead, throwing his arms out. You're mad at me? He demanded, not understanding at all. But that was definitely what he'd felt.

Tien didn't answer right away. Chiaotzu just floated there, glaring at him. "Well?"

"Yes, alright! I'm mad at you." His friend didn't seem to be able to look at him, instead directing his gaze down at the ground a few miles below.

"Why?" Chiaotzu thought he knew Tien pretty well, and then here he came out with this. What was going on? "Tien, answer me!"

"I told you to stay at Roshi's!"

"What?” It took him a second to even make sense of that. “You didn't lose the fight because I was there!"

"It's not the fight, Chiaotzu!" Tien's voice had raised substantially. "I told you to stay at Roshi's and you didn't."

Had he gone completely insane? Chiaotzu didn't even think he could speak. I saved your life, Tien! If I hadn't been there, you would have died!

"You almost died, Chiaotzu!" Tien's voice cracked. "You almost died because you didn't listen to me!"

"If you had died, I would have anyway. I am an adult, Tien. I expect you, at least, to recognize that. I make my own decisions!"

"This isn't a game; this is dangerous! You're not strong enough for this, Chiaotzu, and I'm trying to keep you safe! I know you better than anyone; I know what's best for you."

Chiaotzu was well aware that he looked and sounded like a child, and had long since accepted that everyone thought of him that way, despite the fact that he was twenty-nine years old. But to all of the sudden be spoken to like this by Tien, the one person who had never treated him like a kid even when he'd been one, was just too much. A cold anger spread from his stomach and diffused through his body. "Screw you, Tien." He turned and flew away.

"Chiaotzu, wait!" Chiaotzu! The little telepath wrapped his mind in his own walls, leagues stronger than Tien's, blocking the other man out.

And flew fast enough that Tien wouldn't see him crying. Like a child.

---

"Hey! Get back here, you lying little pygmy! You were supposed to take me home, not into the lair of the dragon lady!" But Gohan couldn't hear. He had flown away almost as soon as they had been on the ground, only taking time to say goodbye to the two of them and the baby.

Bulma rolled the capsule the boy had given her in her palm and she watched the spot where he'd disappeared from her vision. He wouldn't tell them what had happened while he was gone, but he didn't seem okay. For some reason her mind wanted to connect it to the fact that he'd been teary-eyed handing Trunks back to her after a fairly long hug goodbye, but she couldn't fathom how. He had only known Trunks—both the baby and the adult version—for a couple of hours.

Anyway, there were more important things to worry about. The capsule apparently contained Dr. Gero's 'head.' Whatever the Hell that was supposed to mean. Obviously some kind of computer. Gero did seem like the kind of narcissistic weirdo who would consider his equipment an extension of himself.

"I'm warning you, I've got friends in high places! See if you get any Senzu beans next time you need them!"

"Aren't you worried that you'll deflate if you let out any more of that hot air, Yajirobe?" She paused briefly for effect before finishing. "Not that your waistline couldn't stand it."

"Hey! Listen up, you old bat!" Yajirobe rounded on her—a motion well suited to his shape—and lumbered over to where she stood. "I don't have time to sit around here all day! I've got things to do at home!"

"Really? And do those involve your stomach, or your right hand?"

Trunks laughed in her arms, likely at the amusing faces Yajirobe made at that. "H-hey!" He spluttered. "Get your mind outta the gutter, woman! I, uh, left the stove on!"

"Whatever, Yajirobe." Bulma turned away from him, no longer interested in his hysterics. She waved with her free hand when she saw her mother approaching them with some sort of tray. It was not at all surprising that she had looked out the window, seen them in the garden, and made tea rather than asking why. "Hi, Mom!"

"Bulma, we didn't know you'd be back so early! Are you and your friend hungry? I just made cookies."

"Thanks, but Yajirobe has to leave right away. Can we lend him a car?"

"Whoa, hold on!" The man in question cut in, moving around Bulma to stand with her mother faster than should have been possible. "I don't have to go right this instant. I'm sure it can wait."

"Really? I thought you had to turn off the stove?" It was actually kind of sad, how predictable he was. One mention of cookies and he was suddenly ready to become her new uncle.

"Oh, Korin can do that. I wouldn't want to leave without even saying hello." And he took her mother by the arm and started leading her back towards the house. "So, about those cookies..."

"Wait." Bulma intercepted them and forced Trunks into Yajirobe's arms. "Take him with you; I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Are you sure, Bulma? The tea will get cold."

"I just have something to do really fast, Mom. You go on without me." The suspense was killing her; she really wanted to have a go at Gero's computer right this minute. Muscles and testosterone were all well and good, but this was a problem created by science, and it would be solved with science. Before any further protest could be raised, she ran off towards the lab. "Thanks, mom!"

One retinal scan and a fifteen-digit security code later, Bulma was in the lab. Her message light was blinking insanely and there was something in the fax machine, but she ignored them for the moment, crossing through into a massive room with almost nothing in it, usually used for repairs on large vehicles. Who knew how big this thing would be? The last thing she needed was to break it by opening it in too small a space.

Click. Toss. There was the usual cloud of smoke as the capsule opened, and Bulma was jumping excitedly from foot to foot as she waited to get at the files of the legendary Dr. Gero...

"Ahh!" The shriek was not at all dignified and in no way professional. But how was she supposed to react when she saw that Dr. Gero's 'head' was actually Dr. Gero's freaking head? Anybody would have reacted similarly.

"Ah." The head said, sounding strangely flustered, as though she were the one who had appeared out of a capsule. "I see that thick-skulled protohuman managed to understand my instructions after all."

Once, Goku had given her a centipede, thinking that it was a nice thing to do. At least the centipede had been dead. Just what was wrong with the people in her life that they couldn't ever give her anything good?

---

He could fly much faster, now that he wasn't lugging three other people around with him. It had taken him less than twenty minutes, at top speed, to get from Bulma's house to where he was; within view of the mountains that surrounded his home.

There wasn't quite as much urgency as he was maybe ascribing to the situation with his hurry; he could sense Krillin, Yamcha and Trunks at his house and everyone was fine. He could even feel his dad, energy flickering and wavering erratically. But still, who knew when the androids would arrive? Haste was essential right now.

Gohan's house appeared in an instant as he crossed the mountain range, an airplane he had never seen before parked on the front lawn. As he got a little closer he could see that everyone was readying to leave; his mother was carrying directing Trunks in carrying an enormous trunk—Gohan had to smile at the lame pun—onto the plane, and Krillin and Yamcha were carrying his dad on an obviously homemade stretcher.

He landed by the plane, and before he could exhale from the sudden change in altitude, Gohan was nearly knocked over by a running hug. He felt anger for one second until he realized it was his mother, not Trunks. "Oh, thanks heavens you're alright, Gohan! That Trunks man told me you fought the those androids all by yourself!" She drew back a bit, still grasping his shoulders, and looked him up and down. "Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere? You're clothes are all torn! And why are you only wearing one shoe?"

Suppressing a shudder at the sudden memory of the reason for his half-barefoot state—he had completely forgotten to look for the other shoe—Gohan threw up his hands. "Mom! It's okay, I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"What? Of course I'm okay, sweetie. Your dad's going to be just fine too; I think that medicine from the future is starting to work." A brief glance back at the plane before turning back to him. "Are you sure you're..."

"Mom, I'm fine!" Forcing himself to lower his voice, Gohan continued, "Shouldn't we get going?"

"Oh, right! I won't pretend to be thrilled at the prospect of spending days at Roshi's place, but if it's the only alternative...Oh! I just remembered I left a bag on the kitchen table! Let me just go get it, and..."

"I'll get it, Chi-Chi." Krillin had come up behind her as she spoke. "You go sit with Goku."

"I'm gonna go in and get another pair of shoes, too.” He also needed to change, but there wasn’t really time for that right now. His mother had undoubtedly packed half the house to be taken with them; he would find new clothes when the got there. “I'll be out in a minute." Chi-Chi muttered her thanks to Krillin and turned to ascend the ramp to the plane.

The bald man tossed an arm around Gohan's shoulder. "Sorry, kiddo. I tried to stop him from telling her what happened."

"It's okay." He said as they entered the house. "It's not your fault that Trunks is an idiot."

"I wouldn't go that far." Krillin laughed. "I think it's more like he just doesn't know your mom."

"No, I think he's just an idiot." They turned the corner to the kitchen together. Gohan stopped.

"Why are you being so harsh on the guy? What did he do? Gohan?"

Gohan didn't answer. The kitchen was a disaster; pots, pans and all manner of dirty dishes were all over the counter, and in some places food had been left out. Clearly somebody, probably his mom, had been cooking. Only she hadn't cleaned up after herself at all, which meant she had been lying when she'd said she was okay. An okay Chi-Chi didn't have a messy kitchen, ever. The only other time he'd seen it not completely spotless had been...

"Gohan, are you alright?"

"Fine. It's fine, Krillin. The bag's on the table. I need...I need shoes..." Cold, he wandered away from the wreckage of the kitchen and towards his room.

"Gohan?"

"I'll be out in a minute, Krillin." Thinking that closing the door would seem a little odd, Gohan didn't bother after ducking into his room. His only other shoes were the ones his mom made him wear on special occasions, and they were tucked into a box and slid under his dresser. He noticed as he pulled it out that some of the drawers were slightly ajar, but he always made sure to close them all the way.

Of course, as he had already assumed, his mother had likely packed everything they all owned for the trip. A glance around the room confirmed that all of his school books were on the plane somewhere, and when he opened the dresser drawers he found them mostly empty.

A sort of fear stole through Gohan reached to open the bottom drawer. The only things in there were the winter clothes that he didn't need right now and the box with the stupid coat in it. Had she seen it while she'd been packing? How would he explain that?

But the drawer was mostly full, with only three or four sweaters removed. Presumably because Master Roshi's tropical island was only known for rare frigid extremes. Shifting aside a few more shirts revealed the box, untouched from where he'd put it that morning.

Gohan found himself with a hand on the box, some part of him wanting to open it to make sure the coat was still there. That was stupid. Throw it out is what he should do. Give it to Trunks and make the time traveler give him back his underwear. Do something, other than slowly run his finger along the edge and then inch the lid up and off. Something other than reach in and...

"Gohan?"

The drawer slammed shut almost faster than he could get his hand out of it. "What do you want?" He demanded, without look at the head in the doorway.

The rest of Trunks moved into view, toeing the threshold hesitantly like some kind of vampire. "I just...uh, wanted to see if you were okay."

"I'm fine." Gohan sat back and started stuffing his feet into the shoes. "I'll be out in a second."

Not surprisingly, Trunks didn't seem to notice the implied dismissal. "Not just from earlier." He took a half-step closer and then stopped again. "It kind of seems like you might be upset about something else today...I kind of feel like you're mad at me."

Really? He seemed to be upset about something? And Trunks kind of thought it might be about him? That was an amazing amount of insight from the time traveling Super Saiyan. "It doesn't matter. Just go wait outside." He finished tying the first shoe—just like the other ones, this pair was too small for his feet all of the sudden—and reached for the other.

"It's just that I don't understand!" Trunks persisted.. "I thought we...did I do something, or say something?" There was a tone of pleading in his voice that only served to make Gohan angrier.

Thinking of earlier by the highway, the boy said, "Yes." But he immediately changed his mind. "No." Because of course it wasn't what Trunks had said; it was he hadn't said. "Just leave me alone. I said it doesn't matter." He managed to force his foot in the shrunken shoe and quickly worked the laces.

"It does matter, Gohan!" He sounded closer than before. "I can't fix it if I don't know what I did!"

Gohan stood up abruptly, anger making him dizzy for a moment. He turned to face Trunks. "You can't fix it anyway. Just stay away from me." And he strode from the room and the house, Trunks following him silently at a distance like a dog that had just been kicked.

"There you are!" Chi-Chi exclaimed when he passed through the front door, as though she hadn't just seen him five minutes ago. "What took you so long?"

"My shoes are too small." He muttered, walking past her onto the plane, where his father lay in the middle of the open back area, and Krillin and Yamcha sat in the two seats up front. Gohan sat down in a corner and put a hand to his forehead. He was tired. Maybe he could nap on the way there.

His mother and Trunks followed him onto the plane, she sitting beside Goku and he standing depressedly by a window—not that Gohan really cared—and the hatch closed behind them. "Alright." Yamcha muttered. "It's been a while since I've done this..."

Gohan reflected that those were probably not the most reassuring words someone who was about to fly an airplane could speak, but they rose from the ground without incident and were soon in the sky, shooting off towards the distant ocean.

They had been in motion for perhaps ten minutes when Chi-Chi rose to stand in front of him. "Gohan, are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I'm okay, Mom." Why was he constantly needing to repeat himself to everyone? He looked up. "Don't worry about—"

"Fantastic." A stack of books was dropped on the floor in front of him, a pencil landing on top. "I brought something for you to do so you don't get bored on the trip. I can't have you neglecting your math just because we're not at home."

It was said so matter-of-factly that Gohan could only blink. "Uh..." There wasn't really anything he could say in response to that. He picked up the pencil. "Okay."

"Good." A sudden twitching from his father had her turning around sharply, though she made a visible effort to walk, not run, the three steps before she was back with her husband. Gohan kept his eyes down on the books. Goku would be fine. Just fine. It was just a dumb disease. Just a fancy cold. Nothing to worry about for the strongest man in the world. He opened up the trigonometry book and started working through the problems.

It was amazing how long the stupid triangles kept him distracted. It was almost half an hour before he was aware of anything other than the book. Suddenly Goku shouted, just once. Gohan's head snapped up and he accidentally broke the pencil in two in surprise. Heart pounding, he watched his father writhe in the blankets, clutching his chest, as Chi-Chi struggled to get a pill into his mouth. "It's okay, Goku. It's going to be alright. This will make it feel better. It's okay." Whether Goku could hear her was doubtful, but Gohan suspected his Mom was talking mostly to herself anyway. It was in her tone of voice. Gohan recognized it.

"It's going to be fine, I promise." Her hands were shaking as she worked the medication into Goku's mouth, her face and hands both white as porcelain. She looked just like...

"Mom?" Gohan called as he landed on the front lawn. Of course, she was in the house, so she probably didn't hear him. The windows were open, though, to catch the early summer breeze. "I'm home."

Gohan suddenly hesitated in front of the door. He was being silly. There was no way he wasn't going to go in there and be confronted with a stack of textbooks. He would rather train with his dad then spend the whole day reading about wars that had happened five hundred years ago. Besides, the world was being threatened; he really shouldn't be risking its safety by neglecting his training for no reason.

Still, he just felt wrong about something. Gohan pushed the door open and walked slowly inside. "Mom?" There was no answer. "I came home early today." Maybe she had gone out shopping or something? The house seemed pretty empty.

But her shoes were by the door. Maybe she was having a nap. Now Gohan walked slowly, not wanting to wake her up if that were the case. She had looked pretty tired that morning.

Passing the kitchen, something in the corner of his vision made Gohan stop. There were dirty dishes in the sink, and on the counter. A loaf of bread was sitting on the table and a chair was knocked over. Chi-Chi would never have left it so messy for this long after breakfast. Something was wrong.

Worried now, Gohan entered the kitchen. His eyes were so transfixed on the counters that he paid no mind to the toppled chair. After a few seconds he finally glanced down at it, and saw his mom on the floor beside it.

"Mom!" She was just laying there, clearly unconscious, a pool of blood spreading around her waist, but it wasn't immediately apparent where it was coming from. Her face was pale as death, and Gohan panicked at the thought. He ran to her, nearly slipping on the bloody floor, and cursed the fact that he didn't know any first aid. "Mom! Are you okay?" It was a boundlessly stupid question, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.

And Chi-Chi just lay there, unresponsive and bleeding.

Gohan wiped away the tears that had suddenly formed in his eyes, forcing himself to look back down at the book. But he couldn't concentrate any longer, and he wound up looking at his parents again.

He didn't feel bad for his dad. Not because what had happened to his mom was Goku's fault, but because he wasn't alone right now, when he was hurting. Like Chi-Chi had been. He was surrounded by people who cared about him, and that was important. Nobody should have to be alone when they're hurting.

With that thought, his eyes drifted of their own accord over to where Trunks still stood by the window, looking out into the sky. He was still so angry at the man he didn't have words for it, but...sighing, he put the two halves of his pencil down on his book and stood, rubbing his still sore left arm.

Nobody should have to be alone when they were hurting.

---

Such an idiot. He was such a stupid, useless idiot.

All he'd had to do was come back into the past and, armed with his knowledge of the future, prevent the destruction of the world and the deaths of countless people. It should have been a simple task to stop the androids from being activated. Simple.

Only instead of fixing anything, he had just gone and made it all worse. He had not only failed at stopping the androids' activation, now there was a third. And so here they were fleeing, the best they could do. Just like in the future. But it didn't matter, because the people he was trying to save would end up dead eventually, because they were powerless. Even he was powerless; the highway had proven that.

And worst of all, Gohan had gotten hurt. Because of him. Badly, from what Trunks had managed to get out of Krillin on the flight to the boy's house. More than the fact that he himself had been nearly killed, more than the impending apocalypse, more than anything, that was what drove nails straight through Trunks. Gohan had gotten hurt and it was his fault. Again.

He never should have come back. All he was doing in the past was making everything worse. He should have just given Goku the warning and the medicine and gone home, trusting that they could handle it. But no, Trunks had had to come back and help.

Gohan had always said that nothing was ever as bad as it seemed, and even though Trunks had always tried to believe that, it was really hard. Especially now, when he suspected even his old teacher would have to admit that they were all pretty much fucked sideways.

Of course it occurred to him that he could simply go back again, now that he knew where the lab was, and destroy it himself, without any of the warriors ever needing to be aware that it had happened. Perhaps that was the best solution.

A sudden shout of pain from Goku obliterated that thought from his mind. That was selfish, and it wouldn't help this timeline, this world that he had, in a sense, created by altering it. These people, this world, this Gohan, would still live through Hell, if they lived. And it would be his fault. No, he had to somehow, in the here and now, fix this mess he'd made of everything.

And Gohan was definitely mad at him. For what possible reason, Trunks didn't know, but he was. The time traveler now realized that he'd been being dumb before, and that Gohan had been upset about something this whole time since he'd been back. But why? The other half-Saiyan wasn't forthcoming with the information, that was for sure. And he could hardly go around and ask everyone else what they knew without being baldly obvious about it. He had to hope that Gohan would either get over it or deign to tell him what was wrong sooner rather than later. He didn't know if he could handle, on top of everything else, knowing that the love of his life wanted nothing to do with him. It was too much.

There was a tug on his sleeve and Trunks nearly jumped out of the plane. "Gohan!" He tried really hard not to sound guilty, but he was pretty sure it came out sounding like that anyway.

The boy he’s just been thinking about was not looking at him, instead apparently interested in the metal-plate floor. "I'm...uh, I mean, you need..." Gohan sighed and let go of the sleeve. "Can you help me with my math?"

"Sure." No other answer even occurred to Trunks, though he felt like he'd been hit by a truck. Half an hour ago it had been 'stay away from me,' and now it was 'come help me?' Why? He just could not make sense of this kid. But then, he'd never really been able to make sense of the other Gohan, either.

Nevertheless, he followed his young teacher back to the pile of books in the corner of the plane. Maybe it was true. Nothing was ever quite as bad as it seemed.

---
End
---

Ah, this could have used a tiny bit more editing, but too late now. Hope everyone liked. The next chapter will be, in my pre-emptive, fairly biased opinion, quite good, so that should be good times when I finish it. Just don't ask when. Because I'll lie.