Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Illumination ❯ Interlude: Lowell ( Chapter 23 )

[ 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.

-+-

Bulma didn't want to go out and scavenge for electrical components that day, but she had no choice. She needed a few specific items for the time machine that were preventing her from continuing work on the flight system—something in the critical path to completion of the project, which wasn't too far off now. And she refused to be deterred, even by the cyborgs.

Sunbury, a somewhat-rural community outside the northeastern edge of West City had been attacked by the cyborgs two days ago. Trunks went to fight them, and while he escaped with his life afterward, he was still severely wounded. Bulma would usually take her son with her while scavenging for parts and materials, but she didn't want to bother him. He had been out for most of the previous forty-eight hours and she intended to let him rest. The cyborgs didn't hang around the locations they attacked for days afterward. Well... they did on a few occasions, but Bulma was convinced that she would be fine.

Regardless, Bulma was pulling apart an old air conditioner in an alley in downtown West City when she heard and explosion followed by some faint screaming. Her head immediately snapped up and turned in the direction of the sound. Not far off in the distance she could see android Seventeen flying in the sky and firing down on the city. She desperately needed the materials she was trying to pry free from the broken air conditioning unit, but she needed to live to see the time machine completed. Bulma snatched up her tools, shoving them into the brown messenger bag she wore draped across her body. She dropped her socket wrench, her hands shaking from nervousness. She picked it up and managed to shove it in the bag a second time and took off running.

Bulma knew better than to try and run down Broad Street; she would be an obvious target as she crossed the bridge to the west. Instead she ran toward the bridge, and at the last moment diverted slightly to the north side of the bridge and ran down the concrete embankment. After just a few steps, Bulma lost her footing on the steep decline and fell forward. She managed to bring her arms up to protect her face and head just as she fell to her knees. She leaned over, trying to adjust her fall into a roll. She was successful, but her bag full of tools smacked against her with each roll and knocked the wind out of her.

Finally Bulma stopped rolling when she fell into the scenic Scioto Mile, a very shallow area of the Scioto River that ran through the heart of West City. Bulma sat up and coughed; the water was dirty and burned her lungs. Wasting no time, she stood and tried to wade through the water as fast as she could move. The water wasn't very deep, only rising to her hips, but it was enough to slow her down significantly. She moved south to wade underneath the Broad Street bridge, hoping to stay out of sight. She heard more explosions behind her, and they sounded like they were getting farther away at a pace faster than she was moving.

Once on the other side of the river, Bulma scrambled up the opposite embankment. Despite her rubber-soled sneakers having a good grip against the concrete, the incline was steep and required every last ounce of her energy to run up. Finally at the top, Bulma didn't stop despite how her lungs ached and her legs burned. She turned to the north, running down an alley two blocks before heading west again, this time running along a street in an old residential neighborhood.

Just when Bulma thought that perhaps she had been lucky enough to escape, she saw Seventeen land in the street a few blocks ahead of her. Panicked, Bulma quickly turned and fled north again, this time between a pair of two-story houses. She stopped slightly once she stood next to the wooden privacy fence of one of the houses. She moved until she could see through a gap in the individual wood panels making up the fence and looked down the yards of all the houses set on the same street. She saw an explosion only six or so houses down, and the back yard was blown away.

Bulma's eyes widened and she took off running once more. She tried to hold her bag of tools against her chest so it wouldn't sling around and let the tools inside bounce off of one another, creating a clattering siren to lead Seventeen to her. She kept running north, across another two residential streets while still staying between houses along each block. After three blocks, she found a yard without a fence that had a dilapidated shed in the back yard. She ran over to the shed and pressed her back up against it.

Her chest heaved and her muscles burned; she still held the bag of tools to her chest. She was drenched in the dirty water from the river, but she didn't care. Survival meant doing anything necessary, and she was prepared for that. After a few agonizingly long seconds to catch her breath, Bulma slowly moved toward the back of the shed, past a small door on the side. She peered around the back of the shed, looking for any sight of Seventeen.

Suddenly a pair of hands shot out from behind Bulma, one wrapping around her arms holding the bag against her chest, and the other reaching up to cover her mouth. Bulma tried to struggle but felt herself pulled backward, someone holding her back against them as they moved her. Bulma tried not to panic; the hands holding her didn't feel cool like Trunks described the touch of the androids. Within just a few short moments, Bulma was dragged backward through the side door of the distressed wooden shed before her back was slammed against the inside wall of the shed next to the door.

The door was kicked closed as a man stood before Bulma, his left hand still covering her mouth while his right hand gripped both of her hands on the bag pressed against her chest. He released his right hand, bringing it up to his mouth to hold his index finger up to his lips, indicating that she should be quiet. His hand shook, and Bulma wasn't sure what to make of it. He had teal eyes matching his long teal hair, and she didn't see the same malice in his eyes that she had seen in the past in other people. Society was falling apart and besides worrying about the androids, Bulma had to protect herself from other humans who felt like they could take whatever they wanted... including her. She had fought men off on more than one occasion, though she never told her son about it.

The man released her mouth and backed away from Bulma before turning completely. The shed was small and cramped with an old mower and some bicycles. He stepped away from her, walking over to a rifle leaning up against the shed in the corner. He picked up the rifle but kept it pointed to the ground. He approached the wooden door he had dragged Bulma through, looking through a crack in the wood to the outside.

Bulma slowly reached behind her back, her hand slowly gripping the handle of the taser she kept on her person. She didn't trust anyone except her son and Mia, and if she needed to incapacitate or kill this man to get away, she was not averse to violence.

Before Bulma could make a move with her taser, she heard something hit the ground hard just outside the shed. “I could have sworn I saw him come this way...” she heard a young man's voice outside the shed. The voice was familiar but it took her a moment to place it because it had been a few years she she had been close enough to android Seventeen to hear him speak.

The scientist held her breath and looked at the teal-haired man occupying the shed with her. He had both hands on his rifle now, and while it was still pointed at the ground he seemed ready to fire. His hands were no longer shaking. His eyes met hers, and they suddenly seemed much harder than they had moments ago.

“Whatever,” Bulma heard Seventeen mutter, followed by a familiar sound. It was the whoosh of air as someone took off flying at a high rate of speed, something she was witness to her son doing more times than she could count now.

The man in the shed stepped slightly closer to the crack in the door, looking up into the sky. “He's headed back east,” the man said softly, his deep voice almost hard to hear at such a low level. He stepped back slightly and turned to Bulma, his eyes widening when they landed on her.

She had her taser out and leveled at him, ready to fire squarely into his chest. He immediately dropped his rifle to the dirt floor and held his hands up. “I'm sorry for scaring you,” he said softly, clearly still nervous that Seventeen may return. “But you were about to get us both killed if you led him here.”

“What are you doing here?” Bulma demanded, her voice calm and even. “Franklinton has been abandoned now for years,” she added, referring to the residential neighborhood just west of downtown West City in which the pair of them now stood.

“I just arrived here from North City a few weeks ago,” the man answered plainly. “My friend and I tried to find somewhere to hole up but ended up separated. I'm trying to stay near the center of town so I have a better chance of picking him up on radio if he gets close,” the man explained, his eyes dimming a bit. His lips fell into a sad scowl, but not one directed at Bulma – one that seemed to originate from his very soul.

Bulma understood immediately that his story wasn't implausible. North City had, by all accounts, been obliterated by the cyborgs just over a month ago. And if he was from out of town, it explained why he was hiding out in Franklinton – he wouldn't know that was the most commonly hit location by the androids when they attacked West City.

Regardless, her eyes narrowed at the man in front of her. She studied him for a moment, and in the dimly lit shed, she could see that his long teal hair went well past his shoulders though he kept it pulled back in a low ponytail, save a few strands on each side of his face. He had to be her age, maybe a little older – she could see it in the wrinkles in his face. He had stubble on his face as if he hadn't shaved in a week or two, but not a full-blown beard. And he was tall and lanky, probably from not having enough food to eat.

Bulma didn't trust him. She fired her taser, hitting him in the center of his chest. The man grimaced and fell as the two nodes in his shirt delivered a significant shock. He shook a few times after hitting the ground, before finally his body was still. Bulma let out a sigh of relief before tearing the lines from the end of her weapon. She gave him one last glance before leaving the shed and heading home.

-+-

Illumination

Interlude: Lowell

-+-

“Your injury missed damaging your internal organs, besides some bruising from the impact,” Dr. Rema explained to Trunks while the demi-Saiyan sat up in his hospital bed. “So you're going to be fine,” he added.

“Thank you Dr. Rema,” Trunks nodded as he thanked the doctor. “I already feel like I'm fine and I'm ready to go,” Trunks added. He did feel fine. Armada brought him back to Ute and he was taken into surgery right away, which was early yesterday morning. The sun was still high in the sky for early afternoon, and Trunks felt completely fine. His right forearm still had a bandage on it from where his burn was treated, but Rema had already told him he could remove the bandage tomorrow.

“Good, then I'll have you discharged,” the doctor added, his mood much more jovial than the last time Trunks had seen him as a patient. Rema laughed; “You are a lucky son of a bitch, you know that?” he asked, wearing a smirk eerily similar to Armada's.

Trunks laughed. “Yeah, sometimes I think so.” Dr. Rema nodded and turned to leave, when a sudden thought struck Trunks. “Hey, Dr. Rema?” he called out.

Alten Rema had only taken two steps before his patient called for him. “Yes?” the doctor asked, his eyebrows raising up over the rim of his glasses.

“I know you wouldn't give them to Armada, but I have to ask,” Trunks started, and hesitated a moment. “Can I have Marice's medical records?”

Dr. Rema seemed to think for a long moment before responding, which was unusual for the quick-witted doctor. He finally relented with a soft smile. “Sure Trunks, I'll give them to you. I trust that you at least have Marice's best interests at heart.”

Trunks opened his mouth to thank Dr. Rema again when he realized that the doctor had called him Trunks and not Toran, the name he had given the doctor previously. “Uh,” Trunks started, trying to think of how to play it off like Dr. Rema just made a mistake.

“Don't bother,” the doctor laughed. “Your friend Marice accidentally spilled the beans last time she was in. So it's nice to meet you, Trunks,” the doctor stressed his name, clearly enjoying how he had unnerved his patient.

Trunks laughed nervously. “Wait, Marice came to see you again?” he suddenly asked. “When?”

Rema smirked yet again. “Doctor-patient confidentiality. I'm not revealing that to you.” With that, he turned and headed for the door.

“Hey, you already told me she was here!” Trunks called out after him.

“Take it easy Trunks, I'm sure I'll see you again soon,” Dr. Rema threw out over his shoulder as he left the room.

Trunks sighed, but still wore a smile on his face. The doctor was a bit odd, but Trunks could tell that he was a good man. Since he was now alone, Trunks decided to get up and get changed back into his clothes to leave the hospital. He rose from his bed and walked over to the small counter on one end of the room where his clothes were folded neatly and his boots were on the floor with his socks stuffed inside. Trunks picked up his clothes first and walked over the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind him.

As he dressed, and finally got a chance to pick up his blue jacket, Trunks's eyes widened in surprise. He lifted up the jacket and stared at it, wondering why the right sleeve wasn't burnt like it was when he arrived. Preva's attack had burned through the material of his denim jacket and severely burned his arm. There was no sign of any damage. He suspected it would be washed, but he didn't realize the hospital would repair it. He was greatful; perhaps Rema had seen it and taken care of it? He wasn't sure. Regardless, he finished dressing and headed downstairs to the first floor of the hospital to be discharged.

-+-

Laiserta was attempting to take a nap in her room after returning earlier that morning when Naya walked in and started talking. "Lai, I need to discuss something with you."

"Can't it wait?" Laiserta grumbled, still tired from her trip to Taydr-Ostia-Taydr and back.

Naya stood beside the bunk beds where Laiserta laid in the bottom bunk, her left forearm covering her eyes. "I don't think you want to wait on this," Naya explained, looking from the tablet in her hands back to her comrade.

Laiserta muttered something under her breath before sitting up and moving to the edge of her bed, planting her feet on the floor. She looked up at Naya, not so much annoyed as just exhausted. "What is it?" she asked, lacking her typical enthusiasm.

"I had been suspicious of the job that the captain went on with Trunks," Naya began, "so I started doing some research through some intelligence networks I still have access to. As it turns out," Naya continued, tapping on the screen of her tablet before turning and handing it to Laiserta, "while our comrades were gone, the interstellar mafia knowns as Rieve suffered a significant loss of their merchant fleet in the Republic."

Laiserta's eyebrows came together as she read the information on the tablet, and then she looked back up at Naya. "You don't really think it was them, do you?" Laiserta asked, her tone concerned.

"I know it was," Naya quickly replied. "Because when I did some more research, I found that someone has been attacking Rieve over the past several months. Rieve has identified them as an infamous blonde haired mercenary by the name of Armada and an unknown man with her that just so happens to have long lavender hair," Naya continued. "They have put out word to bounty hunters and other allies of theirs to report any sightings of the pair, and offered a reward of two million betas if anyone can capture them alive and bring them to Rieve"

"Holy shit," Laiserta said slowly, the shock of the news finally hitting her. "Spider-head's got more balls than even I gave her credit for," she said, handing the tablet back to Naya.

"Two people attacking Rieve is a bit of an undertaking, even for energy-fighters," Naya added, holding the tablet close to her chest. "What concerns me more than them going after Rieve in general, is why. We're talking about two people taking on a criminal syndicate larger than many nation-states," Naya finished, her face showing displeasure and concern.

"That's a good point," Laiserta replied. "Spider-head is crazy enough to go after them, but I don't see wonder boy jumping on board so easily. Something's going on."

"And I intend to find out," Naya replied, narrowing her eyes. Trunks was due to return any time now after his surgery, and Armada was out as well. She would be ready when they returned to get to the bottom of this mess, no matter what.

-+-

Just over a week had passed since the cyborgs had last been spotted in West City. Bulma never told her son that she was nearly caught up in their latest attack, and instead let him think she'd been home the whole time he had been recovering. They were out together this time, to pick up some groceries over on the east side of the city. There were farms out to the east that managed to bring produce into the city, and for that Bulma was thankful. She and her son didn't have time to farm, between her work on the time machine and his defense of West City, among others.

Bulma finished paying for produce and picked up one bag alongside her son who was carrying the rest. They turned and began walking away when something caught Bulma's attention.

"You..." she heard a strangely familiar deep voice say, sounding a bit out-of-sorts.

Bulma stopped and turned toward the sound, to see a man about her age with long teal hair standing a few feet away from her. "It's you," Bulma said in shock, blinking a few times as if she was seeing an apparition.

"Mom?" Trunks asked, curiously looking from his mother to the gentleman standing near her.

The man looked at Trunks and then Bulma before he smiled. "He has your eyes," he said, smiling sadly.

Bulma was a bit shocked, and didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry, I'm Trunks," her son stepped forward and introduced himself. He set the bags he was carrying down so he could reach out and offer a handshake to the man standing in front of him.

The teal-haired man reached forward and took Trunks's hand in his own. "Nice to meet you Trunks, I'm Lowell," he said with a nod and a genuine smile.

Trunks turned and looked expectantly at his mother, who seemed to stare at Lowell for a long moment. Trunks finally cleared his throat to get her attention, and her eyes darted over to his. He made a slight motion with his head toward Lowell, and Bulma immediately understood what he meant.

"Oh geez, I'm sorry, I'm Bulma," she finally said, reaching out to shake Lowell's hand as well. Now that she could see him in broad daylight and get a better look, she saw that he was a bit taller than her son, though Trunks probably still had some growing to do since he was only sixteen. Lowell's long, straight teal hair was even longer than she thought it was, with the wide swaths on each side of his face hanging down past his collarbone.

"So you two have met but didn't introduce yourselves?" Trunks asked, looking from Lowell to his mother and back.

"It's complicated," Bulma started, pausing as she thought about how to explain it to her son without him freaking out about it.

"She tased me," Lowell added, smirking with a slight laugh.

"Mom!" Trunks turned and looked at his mother incredulously. "What is wrong with you?" he demanded.

"To be fair," Lowell cut in, drawing Trunks's gaze, "she had every right to do what she did. I don't blame her," he explained, still smiling slightly.

"I'm afraid to say that might be one of the nicer ways she's met people," Trunks added with a laugh, still exasperated at his mother's actions. What on Earth did she need to tase the man over?

Bulma noticed what she had seen the first time she met Lowell – he appeared gaunt. Feeling sorry for him, she did the only thing she could think of.

“Lowell, my son and I are headed home to prepare lunch. Would you like to join us?” she asked with a soft smile.

Lowell's teal eyes fell for a moment, and Bulma saw a deep sadness there. “Yes,” he said as he raised his eyes to look at hers once again. “Yes I would like that, very much.”

-+-

Just as Trunks walked out of the front doors of First Mercy of Malleas hospital, he saw his comrade Armada headed his direction. “Hey,” he called out and waved to her. She stopped and waited for him to approach her.

“Looks like you've already been released,” she stated flatly.

“Yeah, Dr. Rema said I was good to go and I feel great,” Trunks replied. “I've got to keep a bandage on my arm and over the surgery site until tomorrow night. After that he said I don't have to keep the wound bandaged, but to call him if anything comes up,” he added.

Armada nodded. “Good. I brought the car so we'll take it back to the hangar. I've already stopped at the ship told everyone you were here,” she finished. Trunks nodded and the pair of them headed for the car.

A short trip later, Trunks and Armada were back in the hangar and flying up to enter the ship. Trunks went to his room first to set down some of his things. He turned and walked back down the hallway, through the bridge and around to the lounge. Naya and Laiserta sat at the table in the bridge, both eyeing him warily. Trunks was about to ask what was wrong when Marice walked in and ran straight up to him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“You're back!” Marice exclaimed excitedly.

“I am,” Trunks smiled down at her. He wanted to tell her that Dr. Rema had given him her medical records, but her smile stopped him. He had a feeling that she didn't want to leave.

Armada walked back into the lounge, and Naya finally spoke. “So where exactly have you two been?” she asked.

Armada paid Naya little attention, responding autonomously, “Out on a job, like I told you before we left.”

Laiserta scoffed, which drew Armada's gaze for a moment. Trunks looked over at Naya who shot Armada a knowing gaze before turning to him. “Really?” she asked, her brown eyes piercing right through him, or at least Trunks felt like they were. “You weren't perhaps in the Republic and destroying Rieve's merchant fleet?”

Trunks opened his mouth to speak but didn't know what to say. He looked down at Marice who was still standing right in front of him, her eyes looking up at him expectantly. He turned to Armada who met his gaze with her own hard, dark blue eyes. Her eyes darted over to Naya.

“So what if we were?” Armada asked.

“Holy shit spider-head, really?” Laiserta asked, her gaze incredulous.

Naya shook her head. “I knew I was right, but this is insanity. Why in creation would you go after Rieve?”

Trunks decided to break in. “They almost killed me,” he said. “Twice,” he begrudgingly added, remembering that the fight against Mikhail had been a setup.

“We're at war with Rieve,” Armada cut in. “I don't expect you to participate. You're free to leave at any time,” she explained.

Laiserta closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Svanos verkos no mal,” she cursed her comrades in Taydran. She knew Armada was crazy, but she never thought the woman was this crazy.

Armada didn't wait for anyone to say anything else. She left the lounge, headed downstairs into the cargo bay and presumably after that, the engine bay. Laiserta explained that she had a headache and left. Naya followed after Armada, still wanting answers. Which left Trunks standing in the lounge with a distressed Marice.

“Come on,” he said, shooting her a small smile. Marice followed him back to his room, and Trunks shut the door behind them. Now was as good a time as any to discuss Marice's future, especially since Trunks now had a data chip in his pocket with Marice's medical records from the hospital – everything she needed to enter a refugee program.

Trunks moved across the room and sat down on his bed. Marice followed and sat next to him. “What's Rieve?” she asked, her countenance grim. Based on just what little she had heard Laiserta and Naya say, she was rightfully worried.

“Do you know what organized crime is?” Trunks asked, unsure how to explain Rieve in terms that Marice might understand.

“Not really,” she replied in earnest.

Trunks nodded. “Okay. Think of it this way, it's a group of people who, instead of having normal jobs like normal people, they break the law specifically to make money. They run what they do like a business, but they do something that's against the law, like selling drugs or weapons,” he began. Marice nodded, and he continued. “Rieve is a very large version of that. They have people all across the universe in their organization, and they've done a lot of things to hurt people, myself and Armada included.”

Marice seemed to soak in the information for a moment, before asking a question that surprised Trunks. “Should you be fighting them?”

He had to think for a moment. Should he be fighting them? Sometimes he wasn't sure. But then he remembered that they were trying to kill him just as much as Armada at this point. Perhaps it was the worst parts of his father's ego that he inherited, but he couldn't walk away after they had attacked him, whether or not they intended to do so.

“Yes,” Trunks finally answered Marice. “They tried to kill me. And Armada. So we're trying to destroy them so they can't hurt us or anyone else, ever again,” Trunks added.

“I see,” Marice said lowly before her gaze fell away from his. She seemed to be thinking about what Trunks had said, when she suddenly piped up to change the topic of conversation.

“Trunks, I don't want to leave,” Marice began, her voice sturdy. “I know the original goal was to get me into a refugee program, but I don't want to leave. I want to stay here with you and everyone else, and help you fight Rieve.”

Trunks was a bit stunned by her words. “Well, I don't know how much Armada will let you do, but if it was up to me, then yes, I'd let you stay,” he said. “Besides,” he began again with a smile creeping into his features, “I haven't finished teaching you yet, have I?”

Marice smiled broadly at Trunks before reaching over and hugging him yet again. Trunks wasn't sure that he wanted Marice around for the danger ahead, but he felt better knowing where she was.

-+-

Trunks couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in bed and ended up staring at the ceiling. His mother had completed the time machine two months ago and finally finished all of her diagnostic tests. They were waiting for the last bit of energy to charge and as soon as it was ready, Trunks was going to head to the past. It would be any day now when the charge was complete, and Trunks was a ball of nerves. He knew he was going on a mission to only save Goku's life and do nothing else, but he couldn't help but wonder about his father. His mother had already told him not to get his hopes up about his father, but that didn't stop Trunks's mind from wandering through every possible scenario of meeting him.

The restlessness was making his back ache, so Trunks decided to get up and head outside. He read the clock on his nightstand, indicating that it was nearly 1am, but he didn't care. He couldn't sleep anyway so he might as well go outside and do some stretches. Instead of walking through the house, Trunks simply opened the sliding glass door to the balcony off of his room and jumped over it, using his ki to float down and land on the ground softly. Trunks walked out into the center courtyard, near his grandmother's rose garden when he thought he heard a strange noise.

Following the noise, Trunks walked around the back of the south building, and in the dark saw someone sitting on a bench under a tree. “Hey,” Trunks called out while walking over, concerned about who would be out there behind the south building at that time of night.

Once Trunks was within a meter of the person sitting in the dark, he realized who it was. “Lowell,” Trunks said with concern, “what are you doing out here?” It was even more odd considering that Lowell didn't live at the Capsule Corporation like Mia and Terry did.

“My apologies Trunks,” Lowell said, wiping at his eyes. “I can leave if you feel that this is inappropriate,” he added, his voice sounding a little strange.

Trunks suddenly realized that Lowell had been crying. “Hey,” Trunks moved over and sat down on the bench next to Lowell, the older man on his left. “Are you okay?” he asked earnestly. Lowell was a nice man and Trunks hated to see him, or anyone else for that matter, crying in the dark.

Lowell nodded and finished wiping at his eyes before looking over at Trunks. “I'm fine. Sometimes the grief suddenly hits and I miss my family all over again,” Lowell added, smiling sadly. Trunks nodded in understanding. When he and his mother met Lowell last year, they quickly learned that he had relocated to West City from North City after it had been completely decimated by the cyborgs. Lowell had a family in North City, a wife and two daughters. They were all killed in that attack. He once told Trunks that he didn't plan on leaving North City until he ran into Neis, and the two of them left for West City together.

Trunks sighed, the pressure of his inability to defeat the androids weighing down his conscience. “I'm so sorry, Lowell,” Trunks said, his eyes falling down to the ground as he felt a burning in the back of them. Trunks's fists clenched, and he felt Lowell's pain welling up within him. “I'm so sorry, I couldn't... I...” Trunks tried to apologize, but he lost his voice. His eyes watered and he tried to hold in the rush of emotions he suddenly felt. He knew what it was like to lose someone; he had lost Gohan just three years ago but it felt like it was yesterday.

Trunks suddenly felt a hand on his left shoulder. He looked up at Lowell, who gave him a soft smile. “I appreciate the sentiment, Trunks, but it's not your fault. The androids were the ones who killed my family. Only they are responsible for their deaths, no one else,” Lowell finished, giving Trunk's left shoulder a light squeeze with his right hand.

Trunks couldn't take it anymore. Lowell didn't know about him; Lowell didn't know that Trunks had been fighting the cyborgs and had failed to stop them. Lowell's words, while good-intentioned, had the opposite effect. Trunks choked back a sob and kept it from escaping his mouth, but he looked back up at Lowell as tears silently streamed down his face. Lowell was confused, and opened his mouth to speak but Trunks cut him off at the pass.

“It's me, Lowell,” Trunks began. “I'm the one fighting them. The guy with the blond hair they always talk about on the radio,” Trunks had to stop and swallow hard after his voice cracked. “I... I couldn't stop them in North... in Nor...” Trunks's voice fell apart.

Lowell suddenly understood. He knew there was something about the Briefs that he didn't quite understand, but he didn't think it was this. Lowell cringed, suddenly understanding why Trunks was so hurt. The poor kid was trying to shoulder the burden of all of humanity, trying to save them from some psychotic androids who wanted to kill for sport. And when speaking of his family, Lowell had reminded Trunks how he had failed to save them. Lowell never blamed anyone but the cyborgs for the death of his children and wife, and learning that Trunks was the young man still standing up to them after all these years didn't change how Lowell felt.

“It's okay,” Lowell said softly, wrapping his right arm around both of Trunks's shoulders and pulling the teenager closer to him. “It's good for the soul to cry sometimes,” Lowell said, his own tears silently starting to fall again as Trunks broke down into sobs next to him. “We have to let these feelings out somehow or they'll eat us alive,” Lowell added, tilting his head slightly to rest on Trunks's head, the teenager's face buried into the older man's shoulder as he cried.

Lowell sat and comforted Trunks for however long it took. He was merely a literature professor back in North City; he had no useful skills to offer anyone in the current state of their world. But if he could provide a shoulder for Trunks to lean on, to cry on, then he would sit on that bench as long as he was needed. It was the least he could do.

-+-

Later that night, well after his other comrades had gone to bed, Trunks headed downstairs to find Armada in the engine bay. She was running diagnostics against two of the engines after replacing a minor part. “Hey,” Trunks said and waved to her as he walked over. She glanced at him and nodded, saying nothing.

When Trunks was standing only a few feet away from her, he leaned back against another engine in the next row, watching her for a moment. “I wanted to say thanks,” Trunks finally spoke up. Armada turned to look at him fully. “I wouldn't have been able to defeat Preva without your help,” he explained. “So thank you... for helping me, and for trusting me.” He hadn't forgotten that he blatantly asked for Armada's trust, and she had been hesitant to give it to him. While she wasn't a friend, he at least wanted to show his gratitude to her so that should the situation call for it again in the future, hopefully she would place her trust in him once again.

“I wouldn't have been able to defeat Preva on my own, either,” Armada replied flatly. “So that's why we're working together, right?” she added, with a slight smirk at the end of her question.

Trunks laughed lightly. “Yeah, it is.”

A moment of silence hung in the air between them until Armada spoke. “How's your jacket?” she asked, motioning toward the right sleeve of it since he was still wearing it.

“Oh, it looks brand new,” Trunks replied. “I don't know how it happened,” he paused, thinking of what to say when his comrade broke in.

“I couldn't find the exact material it's made out of,” Armada interrupted him, “but I got something close. It wasn't that difficult to repair since I had to stitch up my armor as well,” she added.

Trunks's eyes widened in shock. Armadahad repaired his jacket? He almost couldn't believe it. “I didn't realize you did this,” Trunks said sheepishly, suddenly feeling very juvenile. Why did he think Dr. Rema had anything to do with it? The man had far more important things to do than worry about some old denim jacket. “Thank you,” Trunks managed to tack on at the end, realizing he had yet to thank her for what she did.

“It's no big deal,” Armada replied, her tone its usual flat alto. “I figured it's from your home world and probably means something to you. I wouldn't have gotten this far against Rieve without your help, so it was the least I could do,” Armada added before turning back to look at the engine's diagnostics console in front of her.

Trunks watched her work and a smile slowly formed on his face, despite her looking away from him. Armada had changed from when he first met her, and for the better. Perhaps one day he could eventually say they were friends.

-+-

After that first night on the bench behind the south building, Trunks found himself visiting Lowell there on occasion. He didn't live at Capsule Corp., but Lowell's new home was within walking distance so it wasn't that strange that he would sit on a bench on CC grounds.

It had taken three more weeks for the time machine to finish charging after Trunks had told Lowell who he was, or at least part of the story. Trunks had just returned from his first trip to the past four days ago, and he was morose. Nothing had changed. Not only that, but in his anger, Trunks accidentally let the secret slip to Mia, who overheard a conversation with his mother just after he had returned. So now, not only had he fucked up his trip to the past to save everyone, but he also dragged Mia into it who had spent the last four nights crying herself to sleep, according to his mother. Trunks needed someone to talk to, and Lowell as his best bet right now as Neis wasn't exactly the most understanding person. And while Neis knew that Trunks fought the androids the same as Lowell, neither of them knew about the time machine. Trunks found Lowell was already seated at their bench before he arrived. Trunks took a seat next to Lowell, and the pair sat in silence and looked up the stars that were visible between the leaves of the tree above them.

“I don't think I can beat them, Lowell,” Trunks finally spoke up, his gaze still fixed upward. “It doesn't matter how much stronger I get, they're so beyond me that I don't think I'll ever catch up.”

“Don't worry so much about it,” Lowell answered him. “Just focus on what you can do now. It's all that any of us can do at this point.”

Trunks grimaced while still staring at the stars. Lowell didn't know about the time machine. He didn't know that his mother's plan had failed. Lowell couldn't understand the depths of Trunks's despair. He wished Gohan was still alive. He knew that no matter what, Gohan would know what to do. Trunks lamented that he hadn't learned any of Gohan's wisdom when they trained together. They were so focused on gaining strength as fast as they could that they didn't discuss anything else. Sometimes, Trunks wished that he was the one who perished at the hands of the cyborgs, and not Gohan. Because at least Gohan had a better shot at him than defeating the psychotic killers.

“You'll get them, on day,” Lowell said suddenly.

Trunks turned and looked at the older man, and their eyes met. “How can you be so sure?” Trunks asked, his voice defeated.

Lowell smiled at him. "Because if you're anything like your mom, you don't know how to give up."

-+-

Trunks was in bed, asleep, when something nagged at him in the back of his mind. It took him a few moments to realize that his phone was ringing. He sat up in bed, blinking as he looked at the device on his nightstand, ringing away. Curious as to who would call him, considering all of his comrades were on the ship with him currently, Trunks picked up his phone and answered.

He paused a moment, waiting to see if someone on the other end of the line spoke first.

“Hey Toran, it's Q.”

Trunks nearly dropped his phone in shock. “Quarry?!” Trunks shouted into the handset. “What happened?! I went to your funeral—”

“Sorry for any confusion, but this is a pre-recorded message,”Quarry's voice continued on the other end of the line. Trunks's heart sank as the message continued. “I setup pre-recorded messages to go out if I didn't log in to a specific server in a certain number of days. If I haven't logged on in that amount of time, well... I know things must be bad.”

The reality hit Trunks hard. Quarry knew what he was into was dangerous, just as Elise, Murtole's older sister told him. He had been prepared for something to happen to him. Trunks understood what Quarry did, but what confused him was... why him? Why would Q have anything to say or send to him?

“Anyway, I figured out what you and your mercenary friend are up to. So, I thought I'd lend my support. Just in case I didn't get a chance to give this to you before, I've sent a data cache along with this message directly to your phone. I included a ton of information about Rieve, since... well, it was already something I had on hand. But there's also a special tool I included. You'll have to read the directions, but to make a long story short, I can't hack into Rieve's data center because it's off of the network. If you ever get a chance to get inside, use the tool I've sent and you'll deal them a devastating blow.

“So... there's one other thing,”Quarry's voice continued, and there was a significant pause on the recording. “My mom, she was part of the Orelnenn family, but knowing your partner you might already know that. Anyway, she died when I was young, because she was poisoned by Rieve.” Armada's words came back to mind and played over again in Trunks's head. 'Quarry Listern, twenty-six years RST. His mother died from an illness when he was a young child.'

"So, if you're gonna attack Rieve, then get them for me, too. I'm a tech expert, not a fighter, so hopefully I've been able to help you. And whatever happens, promise me..." Q's voice went quiet for a moment. "Promise me that you'll keep Murtole out of it. Thanks Toran, and good luck to you."

The recording stopped and the caller hung up on him. Trunks assumed that Quarry had it set to hang up after delivering the message. He noticed an alert that he had a new message along with an attachment, and figured that was the data that Quarry sent him. Trunks stared at his phone for a long moment before the screen finally went dark, leaving him in the darkness of his room once again. Trunks's shoulders slumped before he finally laid back down in his bed.

The guilt that Trunks felt for Q's death was not abated, and he swore that once he saw Dax again he would kill him. But now Trunks was reminded exactly why he wanted to destroy Rieve. Because they in turn killed people like Q and his mother, and destroyed people like Murtole who cared about those that were lost.

-+-

Trunks returned home in a rush. He was supposed to meet Mia and Terry at the newly reopened Scioto Mile downtown and then take Terry to the park for an hour or so before he went out to a bar in the Short North to meet Neis and Oscar to watch a boxing match. Oscar was an amateur boxer, and he was excited for the first televised boxing fight to take place in years. Unfortunately, when Trunks left earlier he realized he'd forgotten his wallet, which he needed to pay for lunch for Mia and Terry.

Trunks flew down the halls of his home in the west building of Capsule Corporation, flying upstairs and down another hall until he reached his room. Once inside he immediately saw his wallet sitting on his dresser. Trunks breathed a sigh of relief; he was afraid that maybe he'd lost it last time he was out with Neis and Oscar. It was only a few months ago that the twenty-three-year-old demi-Saiyan had killed Cell, who showed up exactly as expected. The fight was easy, but now that it was behind him Trunks could relax. He could go out with his friends and try to have fun and not worry about the androids or Cell, and hopefully never have to worry about anyone attacking the Earth ever again.

With his wallet in hand, Trunks turned to leave. No sooner had he stepped out of the door to his room, Trunks felt his mother's ki nearby in her room. Something felt odd about it though, and Trunks stopped to analyze it. His eyebrows narrowed as he thought about what he felt. It had been a long time since Trunks felt this odd, eerie feeling attached to his mother's ki. It suddenly hit him; the last time her ki felt like this, she had been sick with pneumonia.

Worried that his mother might be coming down with something, Trunks walked down another hallway over to his mother's room. He didn't even think to knock, he just reached for the door handle and turned it, opening the door with a cursory "Mom?"

What awaited Trunks on the other side of the door was something that he would soon wish he had never seen, and could hopefully forget. From the door to her room, Bulma's bed was visible on the east wall, directly in the line of sight of the doorway. When Trunks opened the door, he found his mother in bed all right, just not in the position he expected.

Lowell was lying on the mattress on his back, without a shirt on and pants unbuttoned. Bulma sat on top of him, her knees on either side of hips. She leaned over and was kissing Lowell, which wasn't the part that bothered Trunks. The problem was that his mother, much like Lowell, still had pants on but no shirt and no bra, while Lowell groped her bare chest. One of his mother's hands was positioned over the unbuttoned fly of Lowell's pants, and Trunks knew he had seen enough. Enough for a lifetime, or twelve.

"Oh shit,"Trunks said, reacting poorly to his unintended intrusion on his mother and Lowell.

Bulma screamed, sitting up and covering her chest. "Trunks what the hell are you doing?! Get out!!"she shouted, clearly angry.

"Oh shit!" Trunks shouted again, clenching his eyes closed and slamming the door shut behind him before flying through the house at top speed and rocketing off toward downtown.

Several hours later, Trunks was sitting at the bar in the Short North where he was set to watch the boxing match with Oscar and Neis. But he was too depressed to watch, and he was leaned over the bar, his face flat against the bartop.

"You guys don't understand," Trunks droned on. "I can't go home again. Ever. I'm toast," he added, his words still coming out surprisingly clear for someone who was drunk.

"I'm sorry for what you saw," Oscar said while patting Trunks on his left shoulder, "but don't you think that's a bit of an overreaction?"

"No," Trunks replied, his face still flat against the wooden bar.

"Well, what'd you expect?" Neis asked, a smirk on his face though Trunks couldn't see it. "You're twenty-three and you're still living with your mom. Who isn't dead, by the way," Neis added.

"No," Trunks began. "No... Mom... I... no," he mumbled, unable to form his thoughts into a coherent sentence. He'd quickly downed two bottles of whiskey upon reaching the bar with the intent to get drunk and forget about what he saw. He had succeeded on the getting drunk part, but was still failing on the forgetting about what he'd seen part.

"I can't blame Bulma," Neis said after taking another sip of his beer. "She's due for a good dicking, I'm just surprised it took the professor this long to get around to it considering the googley eyes they've been giving each other for years."

"Neis, please stop talking," Trunks begged, still face-down.

"Come on bro, give him a break," Oscar pleaded, giving Neis a sad smile.

"I'm just calling it like it is," Neis said, stopping to take a long drink from his beer bottle. "I mean, Professor Maxwell's wife was an awesome lady, I knew her. But she's gone now, and the guy deserves to be happy. Shit, and to get Bulma of all women? She's hot. She's too old for me, but she's hot for someone who's what, almost sixty?"

"Oh Kami," Trunks groaned, wishing he would suddenly go deaf.

"Come on, give the guy a break," Oscar repeated, trying to reign in Neis. Neis wasn't the most... sensitive person, to put nicely.

Neis finally shrugged and took another swig of his beer.

"I can never go home again," Trunks said, his face still laying down on the wooden bartop. "I'm gonna have to go live in the mountains and become a hermit, and my new best friends will be a dinosaur and a squirrel. My mentor Gohan did it when he was, he was like four, so I-I should be fine," Trunks rambled, stumbling over his words at the end of his sentence. He could usually keep up some decent decorum when he was drunk, but he had imbibed more than normal.

"Hey, you're gonna be fine," Oscar tried to console his friend. "It's gonna be awkward for a bit but you'll get over it."

"I'll never see my mother again," Trunks lamented. "I didn't even say 'goodbye' or 'I love you,' the last thing I said to her was 'oh shit.'"

Oscar and Neis both had to stifle their laughter. "Come on, I think we need to take you home," Oscar said, getting up from his bar stool and patting Trunks on the back.

Forty minutes later, Oscar and Neis had Trunks's arms wrapped around their shoulders as they dragged him into Mia's apartment in the south building of CC headquarters. They moved around Mia, dragging Trunks over to a couch in her living room where they carefully tried to set him down, but he fell face-first into the cushions.

"Sorry about bringing him over like this," Oscar said to Mia. "He freaked out when we tried to drag him inside his own house, and well, Neis and I can't exactly match his strength," Oscar said, blushing in embarrassment.

"No it's totally okay," Mia reassured him. "What's the matter with him, anyway?" she asked. "He's usually pretty agreeable when drunk."

Neis snickered before looking over at Mia. "He accidentally walked in on Lowell boning his mom."

"Oh my," Mia said, her eyes widening in shock.

"Yeah, so he's too embarrassed to go home," Oscar added. "He thinks he can never go home again," he explained with a laugh.

"Aww, the poor guy," Mia said, stifling her own laughter.

"Anyway, he's never puked so I think he's gonna be fine, we just couldn't get him through the front door of his own place," Neis explained. "If he's still a problem in the morning give us a call and we'll come over and kick his ass."

"Well I don't know about that," Oscar added, turning to Mia once more. "But call us if you need help."

Mia nodded. "Will do. Have a nice night guys," she said, leading them out the apartment and closing the door behind her.

She turned and look at Trunks, who had one leg hanging off of the side of the couch, his knee sitting against the floor. He was face-down on the couch, but seemed to be sleeping already. Mia laughed to herself; she wasn't sure if Trunks would ever live this down. Then again it would be hilarious to tease him about it in the morning.

-+-

Ryan Riev e sat up in bed, reading through reports on his tablet. So far there was no new information on the mercenary and her new partner. So Ryan tried his best to focus on sifting through various items that he needed to respond to or otherwise approve. It was difficult. He still felt the anger over his friends' deaths, but that anger had simmered and wasn't fueling him the way it was the past few days. He was tired.

Helena walked out of the bathroom adjoining their bedroom and shut the light off behind her, leaving their bedroom mostly dark save a lamp on Ryan's side of the bed. Wearing just a long camisole, Helena made her way over to their bed and crawled in, sitting up next to her lover. "What are you doing?" she asked, reaching up to pull the tie that held up her long black hair before setting it on the small table next to her.

Ryan sighed, letting his tablet fall down into his lap. "Trying to run the business," he replied, looking over into her light grey eyes.

Helena reached over and picked up the tablet, turning off the display and setting it on her nightstand. "Don't push yourself so hard," she said and reached up to hold the side of Ryan's cheek with her right hand.

"Everyone is relying on me," Ryan began, his eyes dropping away from hers again. "And I've let this mess get out of control." He shook his head. "Two people destroyed the merchant fleet and killed Preva," he said lowly. "I still have trouble believing it."

"Hey," Helena said, and his eyes drifted back up to meet hers. "We're going to handle this. Okay? Okay," she reiterated. "You and I, we can take care of this. We just need to wait until the right moment to go after them," she explained. Ryan nodded in agreement, his eyes showing how tired he truly was.

"I have to leave in a few days to go after a pirate fleet that's been raiding our routes in the Republic," she continued.

"I remember," Ryan said, nodding again to her. He had approved the maneuver a few weeks ago, and it was now time for Helena Novostra to lead the military fleet out to destroy the privateers trying to steal from Rieve. The Republic certainly wasn't going to take care of the problem.

"I have to see Hamad again soon," Ryan suddenly added. "Apparently he needs more... persuasion," Ryan said flatly. He knew exactly what that meant when Nomaton told him that she felt his conviction wavering and that Ryan needed to go see the Taydran prince yet again. Helena also knew what the meant, but she seemed completely unfazed by it. To her, it was just another part of running Rieve.

Helena laughed, the sound making Ryan's heart feel a little lighter. "Our favorite wayward prince," she snickered. "It's okay, we need to keep his loyalty, so do whatever it takes." Ryan understood that was her permission for what he needed to do. He didn't care for it, but Rieve needed Taydr, and they needed Prince Gen to maintain that relationship for them.

She reached up and planted a light kiss on Ryan's lips. "Get some rest," she said, smiling at him. He nodded to her once more, and turned to his left to shut off the bedside lamp.

-+-

"Do you ever wonder if you've done the right thing?"

Lowell brought his hand up to his chin and thought about the question posed to him. He was a literature professor by trade and had studied philosophy, so he could give the scholarly answer, but he knew that wasn't what Trunks was getting after. Bulma had already told him that she knew something was bothering her son the past few days, she just didn't know what it was.

"What exactly do you mean?" Lowell asked, trying to suss out what the young man was after. "Are we talking about morality?" he asked, the scholarly side of him sometimes hard to stuff away.

Trunks leaned down and picked up another rock, looking out at the ocean in the distance. "No, just... anything," Trunks said, before chucking the rock as hard as he could, watching it sail out over the ocean and disappear from sight. "Any decision that you make. It doesn't have to be one born out of a moral or ethical dilemma," Trunks explained, turning to look back at Lowell, who sat on the hood of his car several meters back from where Trunks was in the sand on the beach.

"Everyone has doubt, Trunks,” Lowell began. “It's part of being human. We will always wonder about the other choices, the roads not taken, the what-ifs. We'll doubt ourselves after we've made a decision, and think about backing out of it.” Lowell paused, the sound of the ocean waves hitting the beach filling the silence of the night.

“That's why our brains are so good at solving problems,” Lowell continued. “Because we know how to analyze the different outcomes of choices. The rest of the animal kingdom can't do that – or at least, we haven't figured out if they can,” he amended.

“Bottom line,” Lowell, the man and not the professor, started again, “it's okay if those thoughts pop up, there's nothing wrong with that. Don't feel bad if sometimes you wonder if you made the right choice. That's what keeps you grounded."

Trunks nodded to Lowell before reaching down to pick up another rock. He turned and threw it over the ocean water as well, watching as it quickly disappeared from sight. He looked back at Lowell again. “What do you do if,” Trunks paused, trying to think of how to phrase the question. “What do you do if someone wants something from you that you don't have to give? And you don't want to hurt them, but,” he trailed off, not sure how to finish his thought.

Lowell nodded, some things that he had noticed now falling into place. Even if he didn't know exactly what had happened, he guessed that Mia must have made her feelings for Trunks known. And by the way he phrased his question, it was clear to Lowell that Trunks was unable to return her affections.

“All human conflict is born of people wanting things that others do not have the ability or the will to give up,” Lowell began. “Unfortunately, that is part of life and will continue to happen as long as human society exists. But,” Lowell paused as he thought about how to communicate his thoughts delicately, “it does no good to anyone for a person to try and force themselves to want something that they don't want.”

Trunks nodded slightly, and seemed thoughtful. Lowell presumed that he had given Trunks the answer Trunks expected, but not the one that he wanted. The young man couldn't help it; he had spent the majority of his life fighting to save every soul he could. It ran antithetical to him to hurt a friend like Mia by failing to live up to her expectations, but at the same time he struggled with his own wants. Lowell could hardly blame him for feeling 'stuck,' as he had said to the older man earlier when they left the Capsule Corporation grounds.

“I think we should head back,” Lowell finally broke the silence between them. “I know your mom is going to head to Bmyhad tomorrow, so she'll want to see you before she leaves.”

“Yeah,” Trunks laughed to himself and smiled ruefully, “she hates it when I sleep in late.”

-+-

Thanks for reading! Please please please leave a review and let me know what you thought! I'm trying to move things along faster by not writing in as many extraneous details in some of these scenes, so I would especially like feedback on that. This is already a long fanfic but I don't want to bore anyone with things that aren't relevant to the plot or specific characters.

Now, the next theme song! Marice's theme song was very easy for me, I knew it years ago when I first heard the song. It's “Paradise” by Coldplay. A lovely song in its own right, but it's especially true for Marice when listening to the lyrics. I recommend you go give it a listen. I love Marice, and I can't wait for her to show how much of a badass she can be too.

Anyway, if you have time please let me know what you think by leaving a review. It doesn't have to be a long review, or complicated – any feedback is better than none. I'm also not so thin skinned as to get upset over critical feedback. Thanks everyone! :]

-Silvia