Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Illumination ❯ Interlude: Mia ( Chapter 11 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

Note: Lots of flashbacks this chapter, and weird formatting. I hope it's understandable, and please leave feedback if you have the time. :>

-+-

In the ruined neighborhood of Bexley in eastern-central West City, Trunks sat behind the wheel of his mother's hovercar. She had tucked it away in the ground-level parking garage of the collapsed building above his head. Well, mostly collapsed, as the parking garage was still intact. From the sky, nobody would ever know there was an area to hide underneath all that busted concrete and rebar. Which was precisely why Bulma had settled the hovercar in that spot.

It was early fall but still pretty warm outside. Trunks was glad to be in the shade. He didn't mind his mother leaving him to sit in the car for this particular grocery trip, as yesterday had been a rather punishing day of training with Gohan. It was hardly Trunks's fault; his fourteen year old body was resilient but couldn't keep up with Gohan who had nine years on him. He was sporting a nasty bruise across his chest, and he'd hoped his mother wouldn't notice. He was never quite sure when he was getting something past her. Sometimes she would play dumb just to catch him red-handed. Sometimes it seemed like she really was clueless. But she was so damn smart; she was a genius, and he had a really tough time hiding things from her. He wondered if she knew he'd started training with Gohan. But... she had to know, to his mind at least. He wasn't a particularly good liar, but not for lack of trying.

Trunks let himself fall backward into the driver's seat and sink into the cushioning. Technically, he wasn't old enough to drive at fourteen, but since the androids showed up nobody was really concerned with issuing traffic citations. His eyes fell halfway closed and he silently cursed Gohan for how tired he was. Surely his mother would notice if she hadn't already. He really wasn't in the mood for a lecture from her. As he mulled over who irritated him more between his mother and his mentor, Trunks heard the sounds of feet shuffling nearby. His head perked up and his eyes shot open. It was easy to wake up when you had to be on alert for psychotic cyborgs who made a game of killing people.

A moment later, his mother came around the corner of the parking garage, and Trunks relaxed. Until he saw that his mother had some girl's arm wrapped around her shoulder, helping the girl walk. He realized she had blood all over her lap and down her legs, staining the pale pink dress she wore. “Trunks!” his mother shouted to him and his eyes snapped back to hers. “Get the car started!” Bulma yelled as she dragged the girl closer.

Trunks did as told, and when the hovercar roared to life he turned around to see his mother loading the girl into the backseat. When the black haired girl got in, Bulma instructed her to lay down across the seats. Trunks's eyes widened as the girl did as told, because now he could see clearly that she was pregnant. He turned back around to face forward and blushed; his mother made sure that he had a decent education despite the androids and he knew how people reproduced. He'd never met a woman who was pregnant. He felt awkward.

His mother closed the backdoor after the girl pulled her legs in and immediately got into the passenger seat. “Drive us home Trunks, and take the old highway six-seventy,” Bulma said flatly before turning around and leaning into the space between his seat and hers. “It'll be okay,” he heard her say in a soothing voice to the girl in the backseat. Trunks put the hovercar into gear and took off. If his mother wanted him to take the old highway, then speed was of the utmost importance. That highway sat above most of the city and they would be very obvious to the androids as they traveled.

Trunks prayed they didn't run into the androids. He was in no shape to fight and he knew he wouldn't be able to protect his mother and this girl at the same time. The ride back to their home at Capsule Corporation headquarters was the longest fifteen minutes of Trunks's life.

-+-

Illumination

Interlude: Mia

-+-

Strip away the flesh and bone,

Look beyond the lies you've known.

-+-

Trunks let out a frustrated sigh and tried not to put his fist through the console sitting before him. He lifted his head and looked at the group of monitors in the front of the bridge, still no closer to a solution. He felt weak and his mind was muddled; his adrenaline was going back down to normal levels and whatever the hell that weapon was that hit him was apparently having a larger effect than he thought at first. But there was no time to worry about himself, if he didn't do something soon, Armada would die. A sudden thought stuck him; what if he just let her die? He could leave and go back home, and be done with all of this. No! he felt himself shout inside his head. He wasn't like that, he wouldn't do that to her. The memory replayed in his mind again, where she flew up and grabbed the weapon in Mikhail's hands, pulling it away from him as it fired. No, she had taken that hit for him, she had protected him; he'd be damned if he let her die now. Trunks wasn't as pure of heart as Goku, but he sure as hell wasn't about to let someone die for him.

He flew up from his seat and back to the infirmary to check on her. He'd merely dumped her unconscious body into one of the beds in the infirmary before rushing back to the bridge. He didn't know what to do. Their medical supplies could help some significant injuries, but this had to be internal. That prototype Venetian weapon had fired some kind of shockwave, and she was probably bleeding internally. Trunks did the only thing he could think of, and grabbed a bag of artificial blood as well as fluids. He removed her left arm guard and rolled her sleeve up to run both lines into her arm. He hoped that he wasn't making things worse, but he really had no idea.

After accomplishing that task, he turned away from her. He couldn't look at Armada because it made him feel like vomiting. Because he'd let her get in the way. Why she even did that in the first place both confused and infuriated him. He didn't need her protection, but the logical part of his mind said that clearly he did otherwise he'd likely be dead. But why? Why would she put herself in harm's way for him? They barely knew each other, and what he did know about her he didn't care for. She was an irrational, heartless asshole. Or at least he'd thought so. Now he didn't know what he thought, except the overwhelming desire to pull her from the grip of death.

But she couldn't help him; she couldn't tell him how to pilot the ship. He had nobody here to help, and he had to figure this out himself. Another thought suddenly hit him, and he flew to his room so fast that when he stopped all the items inside blew around from the sudden gust of wind. Trunks quickly grabbed his phone and dialed the only other number he had programmed in it besides that of his comrade. While he waited through the beeping tones indicating the other line was waiting to pickup, he ran back to the bridge. Finally when he heard the other end of the line pickup, he started blurting everything out before Quarry had a chance to speak.

“Q,” Trunks called out, sounding out of breath. “I'm stranded in a ship I don't know how to fly and my comrade's going to die if I don't get her to a hospital soon,” he said in a rush of breath before taking a moment to swallow.

“Toran?” Q asked on the other side of the line. “Wait, what? Slow down, tell me what's going on,” he said, sounding like he'd been woken out of a deep sleep.

“I can't,” Trunks took a deep breath, his right hand running up into his hair as he held the phone up to his left ear with his left hand. “I can't pilot the ship, and she's gonna die if I don't do something,” he said, panic welling up again. Why had he called Q? What did he expect, they barely knew each other.

“The mercenary,” Quarry said lowly, more to himself than to Trunks. “Okay, where are you?” he asked, his words slow as if he was willing Trunks to slow down.

“In the ship, docked in Virda City,” Trunks said, using his right hand to steady himself against the back of one of the seats in the bridge. The dizziness was getting worse. “I know we can get treatment in Bmyhad,” he added through deep breaths, “but I can't fly the ship, and it'll take too long to get there.”

“Hold on a minute,” Q said, and Trunks thought he heard clicking in the background. “Just a second... there,” he added, and Trunks's eyes flew up as the monitors in the bridge started to display different images.

Was Q controlling the ship? “How...?” Trunks started to ask but found himself cut off with laughter.

“Come on, this is easy stuff for me,” Quarry said with mirth. Before Trunks could respond the ship's engines roared to life beneath his feet, and he felt himself sway as the ship slowly started to move. “I tapped into the data stream between our devices and hopped into your ship's network. I've got control, tell me where you want to go,” he finished. Trunks moved around to the front of the seat he was holding on to and sat down, thinking of where to go. “Wait,” Q broke in, “didn't you say you could get treatment in Bmyhad? Can she make it three hours?”

“What are you talking about?!” Trunks found himself yelling even though he hadn't meant to. “Q, it took us three days to get to Virda!”

“What?” Quarry replied in shock. “How...?” he said lowly, as if he were taking to himself. The line went quiet except for the sounds of clicking on the other end. Trunks tried to think. He knew the code to the safe, surely they had enough money to pay for medical attention, the problem was where to go. At least in Ute he knew Dr Rema could handle people like himself and Armada.

“The Salazs threshold!” Quarry's voice piped up from the phone in Trunks's hand. “She was flying the ship below the Salazs threshold, that's why it took so long!” Trunks was about to ask what the hell Q was talking about, when his friend anticipated his question and answered. “During FTL travel, if you fly at relatively 'low' speeds for FTL, you can mask the displacement of particles that your vehicle creates as it flies by deploying a Salazs field. However, at higher speeds it doesn't work. Meaning if you want to sneak around space, you've gotta fly slow. From the ship's logs, you guys were flying just under the Salazs threshold, the point at which the field is no longer effective.”

“Q,” Trunks broke in, his voice sounding strained. He didn't particularly care about all of this at the moment, and Quarry picked up on it from just the sound of his voice.

“Considering this is an emergency, at full engine output I can get you back to Ute just under three hours from now,” Q spoke and Trunks heard more frantic clicking in the background. “Can she last that long?” he asked, concern seeping into his tone.

“I don't know,” Trunks answered honestly, “but it's our only shot.”

“Gotcha,” Q replied and the ship shot upward. Trunks fell forward and gripped the pilot's console in front of him. The sudden acceleration was unreal; he'd never felt the ship move so quickly, even when they were running from Taydr when the ship was being fired on. Trunks's vision went black, and after some vigorous blinking it finally came back. It took him another few seconds to realize that Q was calling out to him.

“Yeah?” Trunks responded to his friend, letting out a deep breath as he felt a bead of sweat run down the side of his right temple.

“I'm gonna call you back when it's time to land, okay?” Quarry began. “I'll need you to help maneuver the ship manually to get it back in the hangar in Ute.”

“Yeah,” Trunks answered, his eyes squinting as his head spun. He briefly wondered how Q had opened up the hangar they were parked in on Virda, but figured he'd just hacked into it like he'd done with Armada's ship. Quarry said something else and then hung up, but Trunks didn't hear what it was. He got up and slowly wandered back to the infirmary. If things took a turn for the worse, he'd be there, even if he had no idea what he could do.

-+-

When they arrived at the Briefs compound and got out of the hovercar, Bulma helped the girl walk toward the house. “Trunks, call Gohan and tell him to bring Dr Battelle here, now!” Bulma shouted to her son as she nearly carried the young woman into the house through the sliding glass doors in the back of the kitchen.

“Yes mother!” Trunks called out as he flew in behind her and went straight upstairs to grab the telephone. No sooner had he dialed Gohan's number, his mentor picked up.

“What's going on?” Gohan immediately asked. He'd sensed that Trunks's ki felt anxious on the trip back to Capsule Corporation and knew something was wrong, though he knew his pupil wasn't fighting the androids.

“Mother found a girl who needs help, she told me to tell you to go get Dr Battelle and bring him here now!” Trunks blurted out in a single breath.

“All right, I'll be right over,” Gohan said and hung up without further discussion. Trunks flew back downstairs to his mother, still holding onto the phone. He followed her ki downstairs toward a few of the old labs they didn't use anymore. He figured it was the best thing they had since the old infirmary in the south building was currently full of rubble, having been destroyed by an errant ki blast from one of the androids last year. Bulma told him at the time to not bother with the south building; they needed to conserve precious resources for the underground lab and their home in the west building.

His mother had the girl up on one of the tables closer to the center of the room, a white sheet between her and the metal countertop. Bulma had already inserted an IV with fluids into the girl's arm, and when she realized her son was in the doorway she turned to face him. “Trunks, can you go get me some more towels? Also, start a pot of water on the stove to boil,” she said with an assertive calm. He could tell his mother was worried, but she had grown so used to dealing with crises over the years she just fell back into that mode when the situation demanded it. Trunks nodded to her, and flew back upstairs.

The first thing he did was fill a large pot with water, set it on one of the burners on the stove in the kitchen, and turn the heat all the way up. The water would take longer to boil than anything else she would ask of him, so it was better to start that first. He then dashed upstairs and grabbed armfuls of towels out of the closet in the bathroom down the hall from the kitchen. When he came back downstairs, he wasn't surprised to see Gohan and Dr Battelle walking into Bulma's makeshift infirmary since he sensed his mentor's ki had arrived when he was upstairs.

“What do we have, Bulma?” Dr Battelle asked, sounding out of breath. The doctor wasn't much older than Bulma but he had a lot more gray hairs mixed in with the brown, and he wore a set of glasses. Trunks walked in behind him and put all the towels he was carrying on one of the empty tables at the side of the room while his mother and the doctor conversed.

“Thank Kami you're here, Frank,” Bulma said while she wiped at her forehead with the back of her right forearm. It was then that Trunks saw all the blood covering his mother's hands. “She said she's thirty-six weeks along, and the contractions are two minutes apart. There's so much blood,” she started, shaking her head when the doctor cut her off.

“It's okay Bulma, we'll take care of her,” Frank replied, giving her a reassuring smile. He continued talking to Bulma, but Trunks stopped listening when Gohan called for him from the other side of the open door.

“Let's get out of the way,” Gohan said with a worried smile when Trunks walked over to him, placing his right hand on his pupil's left shoulder. “They'll call for us if they need us,” Gohan added as they walked away. Trunks was secretly glad to be pulled away; the whole situation made him feel helpless and awkward.

-+-

Trunks felt like something was pulling at his attention, but he had no idea what. Something in the back of his mind told him to move, to get up, but he wasn't sure what it was. After a few moments of this haze, his eyes finally snapped open and he realized that his phone was ringing on the floor next to him. He snatched it up and answered, but couldn't immediately form words as his mind was still foggy.

“It's about damn time,” he heard Q's voice chastise him on the other end. “I called you six times already!”

“Sorry,” Trunks said automatically, glancing around to regain his bearings. He was sitting on the floor in the infirmary, his knees pulled up to his chest. He slowly pushed himself up off the floor, and turned around. He'd been leaned back against the bed his comrade laid in. He glanced over and both the synthetic blood and hydrating fluid bags were empty. He'd meant to change them out, but must have fallen asleep as he waited. His body ached all over, and he walked to the bridge, trying to work out the stiffness in his muscles.

He slumped into the pilot's chair and closed his eyes for a moment to clear his vision. He could see what was in front of him, but he felt like he couldn't focus. He set his phone down with it set to speaker mode so he could still hear Q. Luckily for him, Quarry seemed to know exactly what levers to pull and buttons to push, and was able to guide Trunks on exactly what to do. The demi-Saiyan was grateful, because his head still felt like it was full of water. If Q didn't lead him by the nose every step of the way, he wasn't sure he could think clearly enough to follow his instructions otherwise.

The moment the ship successfully landed in the hangar, Trunks told Q to handle the rest and flew back to grab his comrade. One thing he could still follow despite everything was the seemingly normal ki of Dr. Rema, and it was nearby at the hospital.

-+-

Gohan and Trunks sat upstairs watching old movies in the small sitting room next to the kitchen. They didn't want to go too far away from Dr. Battelle and Bulma in case they called for help, but they also needed to do something to occupy their minds. Both young men had excellent hearing and had to turn up the television to drown out that girl's screaming. A few hours later, things had settled down and they hadn't heard any screaming for nearly forty minutes. That was when Bulma and Dr. Battelle walked into the room.

Trunks paused the television and Gohan immediately stood up. “Gohan, can you take Frank back home?” Bulma asked as she wiped her right forearm against her forehead. Gohan nodded and took a step toward Dr. Battelle, and Bulma moved her gaze to meet the doctor's eyes. “Thank you so much for your help, Frank,” she said with a tired and forced smile.

“Anytime Bulma,” the doctor replied, and it was the first time that Trunks noticed the gray hairs around the doctor's temples. “This is what I do,” he added with a strained smile. After a slight nod to Bulma, the doctor walked toward the door. Gohan nodded to Bulma as well and followed after Dr. Battelle, knowing that he would need to fly him home.

After they walked out, Bulma looked over at Trunks and let out a big sigh. “Hey kid,” she said with a tired smile and shifted her weight on her feet. “There's someone I'd like you to meet.”

Trunks followed behind his mother nervously as they walked downstairs to the underground labs, back to that lab she had taken the girl to earlier. He wasn't sure if what happened was good or bad, because his mother was so exhausted he couldn't get a straight reading from her ki. What happened? He thought he sensed the girl's ki but something about it felt different, something that he couldn’t identify. He didn't think she was dead, at least.

When they finally made it to the lab and walked into the room, Trunks was almost stunned at what he saw. The girl with black hair was awake and sitting up, a pile of blankets covering her. Her face was pale and sweaty, and her hair was a mess, but she was smiling. He then realized the small bundle of blankets she was holding to her chest wasn't blankets, it was a baby.

Bulma walked over to the girl's bedside and looked to her son. She smiled and tilted her head, beckoning him to come closer. Trunks swallowed hard and followed his mother to where she stood. “Trunks, this is Mia and her son, Terrence,” Bulma introduced them with smile.

“Hi,” Mia said to Trunks and smiled. She seemed absolutely exhausted and yet happier than Trunks had seen anyone in years; it was written in her brown eyes.

-+-

For the first time since the fight with Mikhail, Trunks was able to open his eyes without much effort. He pushed himself to sit up, quickly realizing he had fallen asleep in the private waiting room he'd been ushered to earlier. He took a deep breath to stretch his lungs. He wasn't as disoriented as he'd been, but somehow he initially missed Nurse Ran sitting next to him. He looked down and saw that she had her hands on his right arm, and as soon as his gaze wandered up to her eyes she pulled out the needle that was inserted in the crook of his arm.

“You were really dehydrated,” she said as she wound up the line and an empty bag of what Trunks guessed was just fluids. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, opening her mouth without speaking for a few seconds before she continued. “I didn't want to wake you, you looked like you needed some rest,” she finished as she reached for his arm again, quickly placing a small bandage over the pinprick left behind by the IV.

Trunks opened his mouth to respond, but his thoughts were distracted. Somehow Ran had managed to remove his jacket, as it was sitting folded in the chair behind her, and stick him with a needle. How had she done that? Was he really that exhausted? He felt terrible after the fight with Mikhail, but maybe it was worse than he thought. If all she did was give him some fluids, it certainly did the trick. Because while he still felt sore, his head was clear and his thoughts more focused. Maybe he just needed to rest and let his Saiyan genes do their work. Either way, he felt much better than he had earlier.

Another thought hit him, and he finally spoke. “How long was I out? Is Armada still in surgery?”

Ran's face fell, though she still kept eye contact with Trunks. “That's why I came back... Dr. Rema just finished a few minutes ago. He's on his way to see you, but you should leave... now,” Ran said calmly but with a sense of urgency.

“Why?” Trunks asked, his face contorting in confusion. He was waiting to hear what his comrade's condition was, and he'd already waited Kami-knows-how-long.

“Your friend's going to be okay, but Dr. Rema is furious,” Ran said after biting her lip for a moment. “Trust me, you don't want to be on the receiving end of that.” It wasn't fear on the young woman's face, but she was gravely concerned about it.

Trunks was about to explain to the kind nurse that there was no way in hell he was leaving at this point. He'd waited in this stupid waiting room because he wasn't her immediate family and wasn't allowed to go upstairs. Initially when he brought Armada in he tried to lie and say that he was, but without any kind of ID they refused him. Which was smart on the part of the hospital, though frustrating for him. However, he never got the opportunity to object to the brunette nurse because the door to the small private waiting room burst open and cut him off at the pass.

“I don't know what the hell you did,” Dr. Rema shouted as he strode in, walking right up to Trunks without missing a beat, “but I've never seen anything like that in my life.” Trunks instinctively stood while Nurse Ran stayed seated and inched farther into her seat to get away from the angry doctor. Dr. Rema jabbed Trunks in the chest with the index finger of his right hand, literally making his point as he continued his tirade. “Roughly seventy-percent of her abdominal cavity was liquefied,” Rema yelled, nearly grinding his teeth on the last word of his sentence. “We had to flash clone five of her major organs because there was nothing left of them!”

Trunks suddenly thought he was going to vomit. He'd never imagined that weapon was capable of that kind of damage... it was far worse than he'd thought. “Is—” Trunks started but was cut off again by Dr. Rema.

“Don't,” the surgeon ground out angrily. “Don't say a goddamn word,” he continued, his face slightly red with anger. “You ever bring her back here again in that kind of condition and I promise you, you won't be leaving,” he said lowly but clear enough that Trunks got the message. “Ran!” he shouted, turning his attention to the nurse while her eyes shot up to meet his in answer. “Clean up this mess,” Dr. Rema spat angrily before throwing another furious glare at Trunks. He then turned and strode out just as quickly as he came.

Trunks was stunned. Clearly Dr. Rema cared about Armada, which was downright shocking. He understood from when he first me the man that the doctor knew her, and wasn't afraid of her, but caring for her? How the hell had that happened? He stared at the door, unmoving until he felt a tug on his right arm.

“Come on,” Nurse Ran said, her face looking pained. “The surgery took twenty hours, so Dr. Rema has to leave the hospital now, and stay out for eight hours by law,” she said softly, and Trunks finally caught her gaze. “I'll take you upstairs. Your friend has been moved to the critical care ward on the fourteenth floor,” Ran finished, letting go of Trunks's arm as she headed for the door. He reached over and grabbed his jacket, throwing it on before they left the waiting room.

-+-

“This wasn't supposed to happen!” Trunks shouted as he slammed his right fist down onto the kitchen counter, panic seeping into his voice.

“Trunks,” Bulma said her seventeen year old son's name with a sense of warning as her eyes narrowed at him. She wouldn't tolerate an outburst like this from him, no matter the circumstances.

“No!” he shouted back at her, unwilling to let his frustration be silenced. “I was supposed to come back and have to prove to you who I was because everything had changed!” he continued his tirade. He stared at his mother with a pained expression; he wanted to say more but the anger was quickly dissolving into despair. “Nothing has changed, it's exactly like it was when I left,” he said, his voice low with pain.

“Hey,” Bulma said, noticing that his eyes fell away from hers. “We knew this was a possibility from the start,” she began, her voice even but forceful. “From the moment we talked about building a time machine, I explained to you that there are multiple competing theories—”

“I know,” Trunks cut her off tersely.

“I narrowed it down to two theories,” Bulma continued slowly, her volume increasing to indicate to her son that she didn't appreciate being interrupted. “Either you would go back and effectively change our present, so that the world you returned to here would be different, or you would enter an alternate time stream and change the future of that world, while ours would remain unchanged.” She paused a moment, pain flashing across her face momentarily before she steeled her emotions again. “At least we saved their future,” she added wistfully. If only it were their own they had changed.

Silence passed between them for a moment. “What do we do?” Trunks finally spoke up. When Bulma met his gaze she felt her heart break a little. His eyes welled with unshed tears, though his voice stayed even.

“We regroup, we come up with another plan,” his mother replied. Honestly, Bulma had no idea what the next step would be. She had been so focused on the time machine for so long that she had not considered a plan B, their next step, should things remain unchanged. She had been more optimistic than she let her son know.

“I can't,” Trunks started, but his voice finally cracked, and his eyes stared down at his hands on the counter. “I can't beat them,” he began again in a voice so low it was barely above a whisper. “I'm not strong enough.”

“You won't have to,” Bulma answered quickly. “We'll come up with something else. We haven't let failure stop us before, we won't let it stop us now.” She stared at her son, his eyes still down and away from hers. She wasn't about to let him lose himself to despair. If he did, then it really would be over.

“There's no time!” Trunks yelled, the tears slipping down his face as he looked back into his mother's eyes. “They're growing bored of toying with me, who knows how long we have before they get serious and kill me?!” he shouted in frustration.

“Trunks, don't say that!” Bulma now raised her voice to equal his.

“It's just me, mom! I can't train and get stronger fast enough to outpace them,” he continued, his voice shaky. “If they decide to kill me, I can't stop them,” he finished, his voice low and his face plainly displaying the turmoil and distress that he felt. They had put all their hope into the time machine, especially when his mother wrote that word on the side of the damn thing. And now it was all crumbling around them. Trunks was an intelligent young man, and he understood the possibility that things would not happen how he had wished. But emotionally, he was completely invested in changing the past to alter their present, and their future. To see that it didn't happen, to realize that the entire time he hoped for it to happen that it would never come to be, was devastating. Intellectually he knew this was a possibility, this was a potential result of all of their work, but emotionally he never considered it.

“You just got back, let's take a break for a few days,” Bulma replied, trying to calm her son down. “We still have the time machine, we can still go back if we need to.” Trunks opened his mouth to object, but Bulma wouldn't let him. “I know,” she continued, emphasizing her words with her hands, “it's not going to change things here, but it's still a tool in our arsenal. We may find a different use for it now knowing what we know.” Trunks's gaze fell away from hers, but it wasn't in shame or an attempt to hide his emotions. His gaze was focused inward, as he thought about her words and considered what she proposed. Before either of them could say anything else, they heard something fall to the floor at the end of the hallway leading into the kitchen.

“You... you have a time machine?” Mia was standing in the doorway, her hands shaking and the mug she was holding laying on the carpeted floor, having dropped from her hands. “You traveled through time?” she asked, her voice as shaky as her hands while tears streamed down her face.

“Mia,” Bulma said softly while quickly moving out from around the counter and running over to the girl. Trunks stared in shock at Mia. He should have known she was there, listening; he should have sensed her ki. But he was so distraught and caught up in his own emotions that he'd tuned himself out to the world. Mia was never supposed to hear about this, about any of this. And now she knew.

Bulma finally reached Mia and tried to pull the young woman into a hug, but she instinctively pushed the scientist away. “No!” Mia shouted as she began to cry hysterically. “No!” she repeated, flailing her arms to keep Bulma from pulling her into a hug. “If you have a time machine then we can go back in time and stop Terry's father from—!”

“Mia!” Bulma cut her off harshly, finally pulling her into a hug. Mia tried to keep talking but only gibberish came out as she sobbed uncontrollably into Bulma's shirt. Bulma rubbed the back of Mia's head and held her close, trying to soothe her.

Trunks stared at the scene before him, overwhelmed with panic. This wasn't supposed to happen. Mia should never have known about this; nobody was to know about the time machine. Despite Mia and Terry living at the Briefs compound since her son was born, Trunks and his mother had kept their work discreet. They worked in the underground labs, while Mia and Terry stayed in a bedroom at the far southeastern side of the building, to afford them some privacy. Now that was all ruined, because Trunks was careless and hadn't paid attention to what was going on around him since he returned from his trip to the past. Now he had created yet another problem. As if there weren't enough already in trying to save his mother, and trying to save the world.

-+-

If Trunks thought seeing Armada laid up in the infirmary made him feel sick, he was wholly unprepared to see her hooked to a litany of machines and monitors. From a cursory glance, she looked marginally better than she had prior to any treatment in that she wasn't quite as pale, but the whole scene was still disconcerting. Nurse Ran went into great detail as to what was discovered during surgery, since she was there, and what exactly had been done about it. From Ran's explanation, Dr. Rema wasn't exaggerating about the extent of her injuries. While she went on about the injuries and treatment, using medical terms that Trunks didn't understand, his mind wandered. How the hell had this happened? It was supposed to be a simple job.

After the nurse left, Trunks took a chair and pulled it over next to the one window in the room. He sat and leaned forward, crossing his arms on the windowsill and resting his chin on his arms, while looking out at the Utian skyline. Everything had happened so fast, and it was almost hard for him to remember the details. He wondered if it was from his own injuries, not that it mattered. The more he tried to remember exactly what happened, the more muddled the memory became.

None of this made any sense. She went off to fight that Rieve enforcer by herself. She didn't want his help, that much was clear. Armada was, as far as he could tell, insane. Well, if not clinically insane, at least a chronic asshole. But she'd stopped him from getting hit by that prototype Venetian weapon a second time, at nearly the cost of her own life. Why? He couldn't work out what motivated her. Maybe she didn't intend to take the hit, but she certainly meant to keep him from being attacked. Which almost fit the idea that she was trying to protect him, and had crossed his mind when she dosed him and locked him in the ship. But that seemed impossible. There had to be some other motivation, but he knew so little about her he didn't have the faintest clue. She had briefly mentioned that she used to be a soldier. Perhaps it was just instinct from her previous training? Who knew.

As the hours passed, Trunks started to wonder what the hell he was still doing there. Sitting in a hospital room while she was out cold, and for what purpose? Sure he could admit he felt guilty about her injuries, that he should have finished Mikhail more quickly. But as much as he tried to tell himself he didn't owe her anything, he remembered his own brief stint in this very same hospital. Throwing herself in the way of Mikhail wasn't something he could say with certainty had saved his life, but taking him to the hospital after the poisoning certainly was.

Although her response to that was to call him her merchandise, which had made him dismiss her out of hand at the time. Now though, he wondered if she'd said that specifically to piss him off, so he wouldn't think any deeper about it. Then again, the obvious answer—that she considered him nothing more than mere property—made a hell of a lot more sense. So why was he sitting here? It wouldn't make any difference if he just stayed in the ship. Another thought hit him; why didn't he just go home? No, he immediately thought. Rieve had nearly killed him, and he wasn't so easy to forgive. He wasn't about to walk away from everything at this point.

Trunks was rattled from his thoughts when he heard the door to the room slide open behind him. “Oh,” he heard and turned around just in time to see nurse Ran before she continued speaking. “You're still here?” she said with a curious look. Instead of responding to her, Trunks looked over at the large clock in the room, and realized he'd been up in the hospital room for six hours. That much time had passed already?

“Well I just came to check on her vitals,” Ran said as she moved to get to work, her eyes moving to the console near his comrade's bed. “There was a weird spike about ten minutes ago,” she said as she typed on the screen. “Did you notice anything?” Ran asked and looked up at him.

Trunks shook his head slowly. “No, nothing,” he answered.

Ran shrugged. “Well, she's fine, even the spike in her heartbeat was within normal levels. It's just strange, that's all,” she said and went back to her work. She moved around the bed and checked several lines and monitors, to make sure it wasn't an equipment error.

Trunks watched her work, and a thought came to him. “Why was Dr. Rema so angry?” he asked, looking back up at the nurse. “He didn't... seem like that at all when I was last here,” Trunks said, unsure of his characterization of the doctor. The man he met today seemed to be miles apart from the one he met several weeks ago.

Ran looked up at Trunks, confusion written across her face for a brief moment before it faded into a sad, knowing smile. “He cares about her. He'd never admit it, but,” she said, trailing off before moving back over to the console next to Armada's hospital bed. She clicked a few buttons on the screen before looking back up at Trunks. “She's not in here much for herself, but when she is, it's bad,” Ran continued. “But this was way worse than any other time,” Ran said and paused for a moment.

“Dr. Rema is a medical genius. He basically built this hospital up to what it is today. He's treated a lot of people like you and her,” Ran drawled out that last sentence, letting him know that she knew exactly what he and his comrade were. “And he's really good at it. Neither he nor I have ever seen anything that bad. If she does pull through this back to one hundred percent,” Ran glanced at her ward, “then it really won't be anything short of a miracle.”

“As to why he cares so much, or how they came to know each other, I don't know,” the nurse said flatly, her gaze going back over to Trunks. “But the rumor is that she's the one who saved his brother's life,” the nurse finished. Neither person said anything, and Ran went back to her work. “Everything looks good,” she started after a moment, “and someone else will be in to check on her at about forty-two hundred.” With that, Ran nodded to Trunks and quickly left.

-+-

Trunks flung open the sliding glass door leading from the backyard into the kitchen and yelled to his mother. “Mom, I finished moving all of the old concrete rubble out of the way of the south building, but what did you want me to do with it?” he called out and let out a heavy breath.

“Close the door behind you, you're letting all the cold air out,” Bulma called back as she walked into the kitchen carrying an empty cardboard box. Trunks looked surprised briefly before he turned around and realized he had indeed left the door open. He moved to push it closed as Bulma set her empty box on the kitchen counter.

Trunks wiped at his forehead before he moved over to the kitchen cabinets to retrieve a glass and fill it with water at the sink. It was a disgustingly hot summer day, and although he was fast he still only had two hands, and could only move so much rubble at any given point. As a result, he was dripping in sweat and had long abandoned his shirt outside. All it had done was get drenched and cling to his back uncomfortably. It was laying somewhere in the yard near where he'd been working; he would go back to pick it up later.

Bulma was pulling several plates out of one of the cabinets above the counter next to Trunks and placing them in the cardbox box she'd carried in. “I'd like you to move it over behind the north building since that's going to be demolished anyway,” Bulma said as she kept pulling items out of the cabinets and packing them into the box. “A lot of that concrete can be ground up and reused,” she added, turning to look at her son. “Since you're done with that, go upstairs and get cleaned up, you stink,” she added with a smirk and a laugh.

Her son finished gulping down his glass of water and set it next to the sink. “Shut up mom,” he said with a laugh before walking away and heading for the hallway in the living room. As soon as he reached the hallway, he bumped into something and mentally berated himself for not paying attention. He should have sensed Mia was headed his way.

“Oh!” Mia called out after she bumped into Trunks. Luckily she was carrying a box of clothing and holding it in front of her, so she didn't run into him directly. Her grip slipped on the box, and she had to stoop for a second to readjust and avoid dropping it. Once she recovered and stood up, she looked up at Trunks from under her overgrown black bangs. She almost had to do a double-take. She'd last seen him a week ago, but clearly he'd been gone longer than that. Neither he nor Bulma said that Trunks was going to travel back in time, but she saw him get in that machine and watched it disappear a week ago.

Mia had no idea when he came back, but she was wholly unprepared for this. He was significantly taller, his shoulders were a little wider, his face was a little thinner, like he finally lost the last traces of adolescence. She knew that Trunks was a good looking kid, but she'd never seen anything different in him until now. Standing in front of her covered in dirt and sweat, without a shirt so she could stare at how cut he was... Mia hadn't felt this awkward in years.

“E-excuse me,” she said and her eyes dropped to the floor. She could feel her face growing hot, and could only pray she wasn't blushing. She walked around Trunks and headed through the kitchen toward the sliding glass door leading to the backyard. She struggled with opening the door briefly, but it was so quick that nobody moved to assist her. In a quiet moment she was gone.

Trunks had turned to watch her leave, and heard his mother snicker under her breath. “What?” he shot out as his gaze turned to her, eyes instinctively narrowing. He knew that tone of hers.

Bulma started full-on laughing as her gaze fell then came back up to meet her son's eyes. She smiled at him and shook her head, turning her attention back to her task of packing away some of the glassware along with the plates and bowls she'd already set in the box. With the last few glasses packed away, she folded the box closed and moved toward the backdoor.

“Did you guys need help moving her stuff over there?” Trunks asked. Mia and Terry were finally moving out of the main house into the old employee dorms in the south building. Bulma had mentioned something to Mia about wanting her to have her own space, and Mia agreed. It seemed appropriate after nearly four years of them living in the same house as Trunks and Bulma, even if they were significantly separated by space within that house.

“No, we've got it handled,” Bulma said and smiled at her son before shaking her head and turning away. Once she was outside she laughed to herself again as she walked across the open lawn in the midday heat. She just saw Mia stare at her son like he was a piece of meat. Part of her wondered if she was a bad mother because she wasn't insulted by the whole thing. Actually, she thought it was rather funny, especially how oblivious he was to it.

-+-

Armada opened her eyes and found it difficult to breathe. She stared forward into the darkness, ignoring the crack in her helmet's visor nearly dividing her face in half. She let out strained breaths, though she didn't feel particularly weak... just nervous. She could sense who was there in the darkness in front of her; he was slowly walking toward her. The damage to her helmet had deactivated her HUD, but she didn't need it to know it was him. She knew that terrifying power, no matter how he tried to mask it.

She slowly clenched her fists as he came closer, and she could see his frame in the dark. No matter how slowly he slogged his way toward her, it was never fast enough. She wanted this to be over; she knew what was about to happen. And why was he trying to play tricks on her, pretending to hide his power? Armada let out a shaky breath, the water from her lungs leaving a temporary mist on the inside of her visor. She would know Orlen Valencia's energy no matter how he attempted to manipulate it.

When he finally stepped forward into her field of vision, she squinted in surprise. It was his armor all right, but it wasn't him wearing it. It was a much younger man, with long violet hair and piercing blue eyes.

Armada opened her eyes and found herself staring at a white ceiling. It took a few seconds to adjust to the light in the room, and the mask over her nose and mouth fogged up when she let out a few hurried deep breaths. She swallowed thickly, and when she sensed Trunks in the room she closed her eyes in a long, slow blink. She turned her head to her left and saw him sitting in a chair, asleep. He had his arms crossed, leaned on a nearby table with his head resting on his forearms.

She turned away from him, and took in her surroundings the best she could with what little movement she could muster. It didn't take her long to realize where she was. How that had happened was what confused her. She stared at the ceiling and tried to recall what she could last remember. They were in Virda City, they went after Mikhail, he fired his weapon and hit Trunks. Ah, she thought bitterly, now she remembered. She remembered trying to wrest the weapon from Mikhail's hands, but not what happened directly after. She only recalled the feeling of falling. Given that, and her current location, things went bad. But they were in Virda, how the hell did they get back to Bmyhad? Was Mikhail dead?

Letting her head fall back, Armada closed her eyes. She ached all over and felt the artificial numbness of heavy medication. She knew the pain would be far worse without it but she hated that numbing feeling, feeling like she'd lost control of her senses. Regardless, she needed more rest, and the idiot that brought her here probably wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. No, there was no need for her to rush. She closed her eyes; if nothing else the drugs were good for sleep.

-+-

“This is bullshit! How the hell does he do that?!”

Trunks laughed even harder as the other two young men in the room furiously smashed buttons on their game controllers. He was laughing so hard that tears were forming in the corners of his eyes and he could barely look over at Neis and Terry as they battled it out. Neis still had his teeth gritted, growling and making other random frustrated sounds while Terry remained mostly quiet, biting his lower lip like he usually did when he was focused intensely on something. Another ten seconds or so passed before the game's announcer declared “Winner!” and Neis stomped his feet in frustration, dropping his controller to the floor.

Neis grabbed his short brown hair with both hands and stared in disbelief at the screen detailing his loss. “I played this all the time in the arcade when I was a teenager! I used to kick everyone's ass!” Neis nearly shouted, turning to his right to look at his best friend and the eight-year-old who just mopped the floor with him in his favorite fighting game.

“Hahah,” Terry giggled, “maybe you've just lost your touch.” He smiled broadly, unable to contain his joy at winning, and lightly kicked his feet against the bottom of the couch. He then reached over with his left hand and patted Neis on the side of his right arm. “It's okay though, if you practice you can get better,” he said reassuringly.

Neis sighed and his shoulders slumped. “I can't believe a kid twenty years younger than me is showing me pity.”

“Nineteen,” Terry quickly corrected.

“Whatever,” Neis growled like a petulant child, his mouth forming a pout as he looked away from the child.

Trunks wiped the tears from his eyes while he still tried to catch his breath. “Are you guys done now, because I don't think I can take much more,” he said with a few low laughs at the end. He was certain he'd pulled a muscle in his abdomen from laughing hysterically.

“Some 'best friend' you are,” Neis grumbled as he sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Anyway,” Trunks sat up and let out a deep breath, “I just heard mom and Mia in the kitchen, so we should head downstairs.” He rested his hands on his knees a moment before rising from the reclining chair he sat in to the side of the couch where Terry and Neis sat during their fighting game duel.

“I didn't hear anything,” Terry said curiously as he looked up at Trunks and watched him walk past the couch toward the door.

“Yeah, we normal people wouldn't,” Neis said with a smile and set his right hand on Terry's left shoulder. “Come on, your mom will want to take you home,” he added and stood up, moving to shut off the television and gaming console.

“Okay,” Terry sighed dejectedly before hopping down from the sofa.

By the time Trunks made it downstairs and into the kitchen, Bulma and Mia were both busy putting away groceries. “I heard that a few clothing stores have reopened in the Short North,” Mia said while setting a few boxes on a cabinet shelf. She turned back toward Bulma, “I'd love to go sometime, you wanna go with me?”

“I'd love to,” Bulma replied without missing a beat, her face buried in the refrigerator as she unloaded the armful of items she carried.

“Mom!” Terry called out as he ran into the kitchen and straight to Mia.

“Hey sweetie,” Mia smiled wide and bent down to hug her son. After a quick hug, Terry backed up and looked up at her.

“Neis was saying bad words in front of me again,” he reported with a slight nod and wide eyes to emphasize his words. Mia sighed and looked over to Neis, shooting him a disapproving look with her eyes. Terry simultaneously looked over and smirked.

“Oh come on,” the man in question replied as he walked up and sat down on a stool at the kitchen counter. Neis looked at Mia as he set his arms down on the countertop, “He's heard worse in movies,” he said and shrugged his shoulders.

Mia almost looked horrified for a moment. “He's eight,” she started with incredulity in her voice. “What have you been letting him watch?” she asked irritably.

Trunks and Neis both looked at each other, but Neis was the first to reply. “Hey they're your movies,” he said and threw up his hands toward his friend.

“You said she said it was all right!” Trunks said in his defense, his voice rising with a slight sense of panic.

“Oh calm down,” Bulma said with a tone that said everyone was overreacting. “It's not that he's hearing the words that matters, it's that he doesn't repeat them,” she said with a smile while working to defuse the situation.

“Yeah grandma Bulma tells me not to repeat stuff all the time, and I never do,” Terry said excitedly to his mother.

Bulma smiled darkly at Terry when the other three adults in the room eyed her warily. “Terry don't help,” she said quickly.

“Sorry grams,” he said solemnly.

“Anyway,” Mia drawled out the word to cut into the conversation, “we're going home,” she finished while picking up a bag of groceries from the counter.

“But mom,” Terry whined. He wasn't ready to stop playing with Neis and Trunks.

Mia smiled down at her son. “Don't you want to spend some time with your mommy?”

Terry thought for a moment before replying, “Do I have to answer that?”

Trunks and Neis couldn't help themselves, they both started laughing, and even Bulma chuckled a little. Mia tried to look hurt but after a few seconds she started to laugh a little too. Terry didn't catch on, as he thought his mother was hurt so he quickly apologized. “I'm sorry mommy I love you,” he blurted out, his eyes full of concern.

“I know sweetie I love you too,” Mia replied with a chuckle. Her son was just too adorable, she couldn't stand it sometimes. “Okay say goodbye, we're going home now,” she instructed him jovially.

The eight-year-old turned to everyone as he said their names, “Bye Trunks, bye Neis, bye grams,” he said quickly. Bulma smiled broadly at him when he looked at her.

“See you later everyone,” Mia said with a quick smile before she took Terry's hand in hers and walked to the back door in the kitchen. Within moments they were gone and making their way across the Capsule Corporation lawn to their 'home' on the other end of the complex in the south building.

Trunks was still watching them walk away when he heard Neis clear his throat. He glanced over at his friend who nodded toward his mother with his lips pursed. Trunks looked over at Bulma who glowered at the two. “What?” he said more defensively than he'd intended.

“You two are the closest thing to a father figure that Terry has,” she said seriously. “And if you're a bad influence on him I will beat your asses,” she added, pointing at the two of them.

“A woman in her forties is going to kick my ass? I doubt it,” Neis replied, his voice laced with disbelief at her words.

“Dude, she invented a time machine; shut up,” Trunks said under his breath without turning his head to look at his best friend.

“Oooh, good point,” Neis said lowly, looking at Trunks from the corner of his eyes. “Sorry Mrs B,” he said quickly turning his gaze back toward the Briefs matriarch.

“You think I'm in my forties so all is forgiven,” Bulma said with a smile. “So Neis,” she started while pulling a skillet out of a nearby cabinet, “I heard that you made Mia the most amazing kielbasa and cabbage a few days ago.” She smirked devilishly at Neis, who had already looked away and started turning red. “Would you care to show me how you did it?” she asked, her voice full of mirth.

The twenty-seven year old was still dodging Bulma's gaze while he scratched at the side of his head with his left hand, his face growing redder by the second. “Uh, yeah, sure, no problem,” he stumbled through his sentence.

While he was looking at the ground trying to hide his embarrassment, Bulma turned her gaze to her son and smirked while raising her eyebrows. Trunks shook his head and walked away, it was just torture to watch his mother tease Neis like this. It was obvious to everyone that Neis had a crush on Mia, although Trunks had no idea if Mia knew. If she did, she was excellent at faking that she didn't. Regardless, he wasn't going to watch his mother embarrass Neis—Trunks could not stand the second-hand embarrassment he felt for his best friend. So he headed out, looking forward to taking a leisurely flight in the summer sun.

-+-

This time when Armada opened her eyes, Trunks must have sensed that she was feigning sleep because he was standing to her right, his back leaned against the wall near the door to her hospital room, staring at her. She turned her eyes away from him for a moment and sighed heavily, before looking back at him. “What?” she said tersely, her voice coming out far weaker than she intended or cared for.

“Care to elaborate?” Trunks asked patiently, though she could sense that he was irritated by the way his energy buzzed in the room, despite how he kept it suppressed.

“What are you doing here?” she clarified, still infuriated at his presence. She knew it was more because she hated feeling so weak and he was so stupidly powerful, but she tried to tell herself it was because he was just stupid.

Trunks glanced down at the floor for a moment. “Seeing as how I brought you here,” he began lowly and looked back up into her eyes, “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” His voice was even and low, as if he was reciting lines from memory.

“You're an idiot,” Armada spat as she moved to sit up, pushing herself up with her hands. She fiddled with the bed's controls briefly to get the back to rise and help her sit up, and Trunks merely watched her as she worked. He knew it would be stupid to get involved.

“And why is that?” he finally asked when she'd managed to get the bed adjusted.

Armada took a moment to pull the oxygen mask from her face and toss it aside before glaring at him angrily and shouting, “Because you should have run! Because you should have left me there to die and you should have run!” She paused a moment, “Because you can't owe a debt to a dead person,” she added, the volume of her voice dropping.

“Well unfortunately for you that's not who I am,” Trunks snapped back angrily, his volume increasing in response to her.

She didn't break her gaze from his but stayed silent for a moment. “There's something you need to know,” she said lowly. Trunks wasn't expecting that, and curiosity crept into his features. She turned away and her eyes seemed to look through everything. “Do you remember during the trip to Virda when you asked me if everything was okay?”

Trunks's mind quickly returned to that moment. He was sitting in the lounge reading information on his phone while a movie played on the monitor in the background. His concentration was broken when he felt Armada's ki spike in the bridge and heard the noise of something slamming against something else. “You okay?” he called out, but heard nothing in response. He got up from where he sat and walked to the entrance to the bridge, to see her standing with her back to him while she muttered 'damnit' under her breath.

“Hey, is everything okay?” he asked again, moderately concerned.

“Fine,” she answered flatly before walking out of the bridge down the hall toward the barracks. He watched her leave but said nothing else. He knew it wasn't 'fine' but had no idea what it was about to bother her about it.

“Yeah, I remember,” Trunks replied with a guarded gaze as he recalled what had happened.

Armada finally turned her head so she could look him in the eyes. “I'd received a message from my broker, Mace,” she said, recalling the contents of the message. She was checking diagnostics and their flight path when an incoming encrypted message arrived. She didn't recognize the encryption key, so after scanning the file for any abnormalities and it cleared, she played it. “Hey,” the voice message began and while it sounded strained, she knew the voice belonged to her broker, Mace. “Rieve found my place... before they trashed everything they stole my data. I-I gave them the encryption keys,” the voice stuttered and Armada knew that he hadn't given up access to his data by choice. She clenched her fists as she knew where this was going. “They got the encryption key to your comms, I'm sorry. They let me live,” the voice shuddered and paused for a moment. Armada instinctively knew what they'd done to him—she would have done the same. Clearly they wanted her to know what they had done otherwise they would have killed him. “I'm done, you'll never hear from me again.” The message was static for a few seconds before it ended.

Armada's clenched right fist slammed into the console in front of her in frustration before she rose from her seat and cursed her luck.

“Rieve attacked Mace and stole all the data he had, including the encryption key necessary to contact me. They fed the information to Venice. It's the reason they were able to force the ship's comms open so quickly,” she summarized for Trunks. Her fists clenched into the sheets covering her and she looked down at them, anger flashing over her face. “This whole job was a setup and they knew we'd have no choice but to take it.”

Trunks understood what she was really saying. Rieve had tried to poison her and inadvertently nearly killed him. They sent their assassin to kill her. They setup the pair of them to face Mikhail, far more powerful and with a weapon more powerful than they could have known. He knew Rieve was bad news, from what little information was out in the public network about them. He didn't know why they were after Armada, but it wasn't surprising. He knew so little about her, and he was growing very tired of remaining in the dark. “So we need to do something about Rieve,” Trunks surmised.

“No!” Armada screamed, rage flashing across her face. “This is not your fight,” she ground out, staring at him for a few seconds before continuing. “Go home. This doesn't concern you.”

Now Trunks was officially getting pissed off. “Clearly you don't know who I am,” he started, his voice loud and angry. “I'm not so merciful as to just walk away when someone nearly kills me, and I don't give a damn if they were after you and not me. Consider it a real fuck-up of collateral damage on Rieve's part, but now I'm pissed, and I am not about to walk away,” he finished, staring Armada down.

Armada scoffed, “What do you think you're going to do? Fight them?” she asked incredulously.

“I have no problem taking the fight directly to these assholes,” Trunks replied, his eyes narrowing.

“You don't understand,” Armada said and shook her head. “We can't fight them,” she began but Trunks cut her off.

“Do you really not understand what I'm capable of?” he asked with a tone of arrogance.

Her eyes dropped from his gaze and her fists clenched. Her ki flickered oddly, and it took a moment for Trunks to realize it was from fear. She was afraid of him. His face softened slightly, and he felt a wave of guilt come over him. He never wanted her to fear him, simply respect him. No, he thought briefly and internally scolded himself. Who cared if she feared him? He tried to rationalize it away but it still bothered him.

“I know,” she finally responded and Trunks was brought out of his thoughts. “What I was saying was, we can't fight Rieve like we are now,” Armada emphasized the last word of her sentence. “Rieve isn't just a crime syndicate, it's an army. They have more assassins like Corvus, more powerful ones; they have a fleet, they have reach across the galaxy from LOKI to the Republic and back,” she paused. “A fight with Rieve isn't a fight, it's a war. And a war with Rieve only ends one of two ways. Either they're obliterated,” she paused a moment, “or we are. You have to understand what you're asking for.”

Trunks thought for a moment before a question came to him. “Do you want to get these bastards? For everything that they've done?” he asked.

“More than you know,” Armada replied quickly.

“Then it's settled,” Trunks answered just as swiftly. “We're going to wipe them out.”

Armada sighed. “Okay. A war with Rieve takes resources. Upgrades to the ship, intel on their locations and strength, and above all—money,” she explained. “Which we are in short supply of. We're going to have to take a lot of jobs in a short period of time to earn the kind of capital that we need to wage a war. You understand?”

“Yeah,” Trunks nodded as he replied. The room fell silent for a few moments as Trunks thought through what they were talking about. Should he just reveal his full strength to her? Would it be enough against Rieve? Corvus—if that was the name of the enforcer he'd killed—was far more powerful than Trunks previously thought anyone else in the universe to be. He was still not strong enough to defeat Trunks, but if Corvus wasn't standing at the top, who was? He needed to train, but Trunks had not trained seriously in the last two years; how was he going to do it?

“So when did Dr. Rema say I could leave?”

Trunks was brought out of his thoughts by his comrade's question. He opened his mouth to speak but found himself hesitating when he remembered the details of everything Ran had told him. “Three more days,” he finally found enough voice to say aloud. “They had to uh,” he paused a split-second to avert his gaze from hers, “flash clone five of your organs. Said it was pretty bad,” his voice trailed off.

She seemed to sit and absorb the information for a moment. “You should get back to the ship,” Armada said in her normal, somewhat-demanding tone. “One of us needs to keep a close eye on things and obviously I can't go anywhere.”

“Sure,” Trunks said and left without another word. As he walked through the halls headed for the exit, he wondered how his mother was doing. How had things fallen apart so badly from a mere trip to buy groceries and supplies on Bmyhad? Maybe Armada was right, and he was an idiot for not running back home when he had the chance. His mother certainly wouldn't approve of this plan for vengeance, but he didn't particularly care. He was no Son Goku; he couldn't forgive someone who tried to kill him.

-+-

Trunks leaned forward and spit out another two watermelon seeds before chewing and swallowing the piece of fruit he'd bitten off. It was hard to see where they landed in the dark. Despite the full moon and clear sky lighting up the Capsule Corporation grounds, it was easy for two black seeds to get lost in the grass beneath his feet.

Mia wiped at her mouth with the back of her right hand and threw the rind of her piece of watermelon onto the ground. She sighed briefly before speaking, “It's so nice out tonight. The weather's perfect,” she said and turned to her right where Trunks sat beside her on a concrete bench.

“Hey,” Trunks swallowed before he continued, “don't throw that on the ground,” he said referencing the rind she threw down.

Mia rolled her eyes, “Oh whatever, it's recycling. Nature going back to nature, it's just like a compost heap,” she explained, gesticulating with her arms while talking.

“My back yard is not a compost heap,” Trunks said flatly.

“Your back yard?” Mia taunted. “Last I checked you still lived with your mom,” she teased. He opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off at the pass. “Besides, if you think your yard isn't a compost heap then clearly you haven't been behind the south building lately,” she said while a sly smile spread across her face.

“What?” Trunks asked in confusion.

“Just kidding!” Mia laughed and smiled broadly. “Maybe,” she added quickly with a smirk.

Trunks gave her a sideways glance for a moment before taking another bite of watermelon. “Speaking of nice weather, you should've let Terry stay up late,” he said with a mouthful of fruit. He swallowed thickly before adding, “Summer break doesn't last forever, you need to let him live a little.”

“He's eight!” Mia said in exasperation. “I let him stay up late on the weekends,” she said defensively. “Besides, if he stays up late all summer it'll be really hard for him to go back to school when break's over.” Mia looked up at the stars for a minute and stayed silent while Trunks continued to eat.

“Speaking of school,” Mia said slowly, mimicking Trunks's words from moments earlier, turning slowly to her right to face him, “Lowell told me they're reopening West City University this fall.” She looked at him expectantly for a moment while Trunks eyed her from the corner of his eyes. “They're not going to charge tuition because zeni are still worthless,” she rolled her eyes and laughed darkly, “and you know Lowell's not in it for the money anyway.”

“You gonna go?” Trunks asked, wary of where this conversation was headed.

“Yeah,” she said with a smile, more to herself than anyone else. “I wanna be a nurse, and you've gotta go to school for that, right?” She leaned back and set her hands on the bench, stretching her legs out in front of her. “It's a brand new world with the androids gone. We need people to replace everyone we've lost, career-wise,” she added. “I want to help people and blood doesn't freak me out,” Mia laughed, “so it seemed like the perfect fit. They won't have the med school up and running yet but I figure I can start with some science classes and get the fundamentals out of the way first. Lowell said that was a good plan and he would know, he used to teach there before the university was destroyed,” she added while kicking at the grass.

Mia looked at Trunks while biting her bottom lip for a few minutes before speaking again. “So... are you gonna go?”

Trunks sighed and looked away from Mia. Everyone had been pestering him about this lately and it was getting old, fast. “I don't know,” he said while shaking his head. He was getting very annoyed with this from everyone about going to school or what to do next or his future, however they phrased it, it was all the same thing.

“Lowell said you could just start by taking like, one or two classes in something that interests you, to see if you're really interested in that for a career, you don't have to know right away what you want to do,” Mia started to spout off quickly. She tended to ramble when she was nervous.

“Why are you talking about me with Lowell?” Trunks finally asked, the irritation evident to Mia in his voice. Her eyes widened and he continued, “Why are you talking about my future with Lowell?” Trunks stared at Mia with a scowl.

Mia was almost at a loss for words at his anger. “I, I'm sorry,” she stuttered, suddenly finding the dark grass under her feet easier to look at than the young man she was sitting next to. “I,” she started but lost her voice. She turned her gaze back to Trunks and started again, “Look, what you did was amazing—you saved us all. Nobody can thank you enough for that,” she said with earnest admiration. “But... there aren't any androids left to fight, you know? What are you going to do with the rest of your life?” Trunks's scowl had softened, but Mia must not have noticed because she assumed he was still angry. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly and tucked her long black hair behind right ear, a nervous habit of hers. “I didn't mean to upset you, I'm just,” she paused, searching for the right word before she settled on “concerned.”

After that apology, Trunks felt like an asshole. “I know Mia, I'm sorry,” he replied, feeling like an idiot. “I just... I don't know what I want to do. And it's frustrating when everyone keeps pushing me to make a decision, like I haven't thought about it and if they bother me enough I'll magically figure it out,” he blurted out quickly. His mother had been getting on him about it since he killed Cell, Lowell had been talking about reopening West City University for the last two years, and even Neis was getting on his case about it. Despite how flaky his best friend appeared to be on the outside, Neis had mostly finished a degree in electrical engineering before his sister was killed and North City was wiped off the map. Everyone had a direction except for him, and it wasn't for lack of contemplation on Trunks's part. What exactly the future held for him had consumed his thoughts for some time, though it seemed that no one understood that. Maybe his mother did, but even so she still pushed him. Most of all he was frustrated with himself, and everyone else's additional pressure did not help the situation any.

“You gave us all a future, Trunks.”

Trunks turned his attention back to Mia who looked at him and smiled in earnest. “If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be here, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. I wouldn't,” Mia smiled as her voice cracked ever so slightly, “I wouldn't be here with my beautiful son if it weren't for you and your mother. So if you need more time to figure it out, take all the time you need,” she finished, and set her right hand on top of his left sitting on the bench in between them.

Mia used her left hand to tuck her hair behind her ear and laughed nervously. “You're an amazing guy,” she said, her gaze directed over his shoulder. “So what if you're a late bloomer?” she looked into his eyes and smiled. “There's no rush. And I'm really, really sorry if I made you feel pressured,” she repeated her apology, and the sincerity was very clear to Trunks.

“It's okay, and thank you,” Trunks said sheepishly himself. He felt like such a dork sometimes. Then again, he did come from a line of dorks, just very famous and very rich dorks. “You're a great mom and you'll make a great nurse,” he said with a smile. He was honest in his words; he'd seen how Mia had raised a child from the age of sixteen. She was twenty-five now, and Terry was about to turn nine, a few months before Trunks's own birthday. Everyone was only getting older, and it reinforced the idea that he needed to figure out what to do with the rest of his life. It was hard; he'd spent so long just trying to survive, then trying to defeat the androids—it had consumed his every waking moment for many years—and it was hard to readjust. He thought he would have felt more “normal” by now, but what was normal for him, anyway?

He had turned away from Mia while lost in thought, but her hand was still resting over his on the bench in the few inches between them. He stared up at the stars; they were nice to look at on such a clear night. When he felt Mia shift next to him, Trunks turned to look at her. She opened her mouth as if she were going to say something, but she must have thought better of it and her mouth fell closed. Mia then squeezed his hand lightly and Trunks looked down at their hands briefly when Mia slowly moved forward. He instinctively reacted and pulled away from her, sitting back and moving his head away from hers.

When Trunks looked into Mia's eyes, he knew what he'd done. “I'm such an idiot,” she said lowly, moving her hand away from his as tears welled in her eyes.

The realization smacked Trunks like an angry slap to the face. She was trying to kiss him—had tried to kiss him, when he pulled away from her. “Mia, I,” he started, but she just shook her head as she stood up, smiling broadly to cover up the sadness. She quickly turned and walked away, headed for her home in the south building.

He watched her walk away and felt unable to move. He didn't realize what she was doing when he'd backed away from her; it was just instinct as if she was going to bump into him. But the truth of it was, he didn't want to kiss Mia. It made him feel terrible to let her down, because he cared about her—she was family. But it wouldn't be right to give her what she wanted if his heart wasn't in it, right? He ran his left hand through his hair and hung his head. There was nothing he could do to 'fix' this and it made him feel like he needed to vomit.

-+-

Armada stood and clasped the right forearm guard onto her arm, the last piece of her armor she had to put on. “Where's the other guard?” she asked to the man standing behind her. She didn't need to turn around to know that he was there.

“I don't know,” Dr. Rema answered honestly, “it wasn't on the corpse that your friend brought in.”

She turned around and stared at him pointedly. “Congratulations doctor, you've raised the dead,” she said mockingly.

“I goddamn did, even if you want to joke about it,” he shot back angrily. “I'm a genius and a miracle worker, especially considering you're standing here like you're fine eight days after surgery.” He paused briefly and readjusted his glasses. “You have five brand new, flash-cloned organs in your body. You need to be prepared for what that's going to do to you,” he cautioned.

“I know what the side affects are of a cloned organ, Rema,” Armada said flatly.

“Yeah but they're not merely multiplied five times over. More than one cloned organ transplant at a time multiplies the occurrence of debilitating memory hallucination exponentially,” he stressed. “The effect is intensified with flash cloned tissue as it hasn't had the proper time to truly grow. And don't play dumb with me, I know damn well what you do for a living. I'll always be grateful for what you've done for me—intentional or not,” he added with emphasis. “But I didn't do all that goddamn work for you to walk out there and die because you get caught up in a neural storm while you're in the middle of some deep shit. I need you to live for at least another two years so I can write a research paper on my work and win another award,” he finished, still glaring at her angrily.

“Glad to see you've got your priorities in order,” Armada laughed darkly. She moved to walk around the doctor to leave the hospital, but he shot out a hand to stop her.

She looked from the doctor's hand on her left arm up into his eyes. “Don't you ever come back here in that kind of condition again, you hear me?” Rema's anger was obvious but even Armada could see it was just there to mask his concern, and she hated it. He had no reason to care about her, considering the 'miracle' she'd done for him was merely chance; it was a job and nothing more.

She shrugged his grasp off and walked away without a word. She was too busy to deal with him; she had to prepare for war.

-+-

Bulma sighed and put down the spoon into her bowl of oatmeal, then proceeded to set her elbows on the kitchen table and set her chin her hands. “What's wrong?” she asked sadly, looking at her son sitting across from her.

Trunks looked up at her while trying to take a bite of his oatmeal and it slid off of the spoon and fell back into the bowl. “What?” he asked, blinking at her in confusion.

“Please don't play dumb with me son,” Bulma said sadly. “I know you. You've been moping for three days now. Something's eating you up but I just don't know what.”

“Mom, I'm fine,” Trunks said slowly as he stared into her eyes.

Bulma sighed again and shifted in her chair. “Trunks,” she said his name in that way that told him she meant business.

He sighed and his eyes darted away from hers. “I don't want to talk about it,” he finally admitted. He'd felt like absolute garbage since Mia tried to kiss him three nights ago. He didn't know what to do, or even if there was anything for him to do. It was so frustrating, because there was no clear answer to him. He did not feel ready to discuss it with his mother. He was afraid she wouldn't understand.

“Okay,” Bulma let out a deep breath and smiled at her son sadly. “But if you do decide you need to talk about it, I'm here for you, you know that right?”

“Yeah,” Trunks said lowly and nodded before shoveling another bite of oatmeal into his mouth.

“Now,” Bulma clasped her hands together in front of herself and sat up straight, “if you feel like it, I have a list of things I need from Bmyhad, and I know it's been a while since you've been, so if you like you can go in my place. Get out of the house, say hi to Murtole, Devan and everyone else, just forget about whatever's eating at you for a little bit. Sound good?” she asked with an encouraging smile.

He thought for a moment after swallowing another spoonful of his breakfast. “Yeah,” he said and nodded to his mother, “I'd like to do that.” His problems wouldn't go away, but at least he could get away and stop obsessing over them for a few hours, if nothing else.

He would leave a few hours later, and it would be the last time he would see his mother.

-+-

Thanks for reading, if you have time please leave a review and let me know what you think. :]

Today's lyrical content provided by: “Underneath,” Adam Lambert