More than Memories

By Ember

More Than Memories

Chapter One

Disclaimer: DBZ does not belong to me.

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"Mom!"

Shadows creep along the stark, clinical walls. The blur of smoke is licking at the air as I sink further into my chair.

"Mom! Where are you?"

I inhale again, swirling the smoke around my mouth as I exhale, savoring the nicotine. "I love you Trunks." I whisper, "But not now… please."

It was so nice a moment ago, lost in the dreams of forgotten memories. Why did I have to wake up? I was so happy… a childish, fulfilled kind of happy that I haven't felt in so long. I could feel and experience everything just as though it was flesh and blood, rather than the thin and over-dwelled on wisps of emotion, and now… well now cold hard reality has broken back in, making me feel all the pain and anger along with it. All I want to do is numb it for a moment in self-pity.

"Hey mom!" I am too late to hide, not that he wouldn't find me anyway. He is chuckling slightly as he walks through the door. "What are you doing down here in the dark? We aren't that desperate for power yet are we?"

I lean over the table, stubbing out my cigarette. "No I'm just listening to the radio." I lie smoothly, holding up the headphones. "The androids have been extra active in the west islands recently. I want to have first hand knowledge of where they're going to strike next. It's getting a little close to home and you remember what happened last time they came to Western Capital?"

He lowers his head and instantly I feel guilty in having brought the subject up. I didn't mean to say something that might hurt him. To be honest I didn't realize he still felt so emotional about it. His eyes look up to mine, his strong cheekbones clenching as he tries to control his anger.

Shaking my head I push my chair back, walking to the other side of my desk "No Trunks…" I scold, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Don't you dare feel like that! You did everything you could. You were ten… ten years old, no one would expect you to face that alone."

He looks to the ceiling, his eyes filling with moisture. "But I should have… before Gohan arrived… they got you mom." He reaches a hand, pulling down the sleeve of my top, to reveal the large burn and cleft in skin that I suffered that day.

"Yes," I say, turning my head away as he inspects the old wound. "But I'm still here… still alive, that's what matters. You're stronger now, but back then you would have been killed. Now we have to be careful. Until the time machine is ready for you to help Son-Kun and your father we can't have you getting into trouble. They need you, and so do I."

He coughs, choking down the emotion. "How long before it's recharged?"

"Three weeks." Another lie but what can I do? I don't want anyone knowing about my plan, or how utterly weak and pathetic I am to be doing it. I just… just can't go on like this… I need closure!

"Three weeks?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure? What happened to the new source of energy that was supposed to split the old time in half?"

Shit! I thought I had been careful. Where did he see that file? Should I tell him? No… he'd try and stop me, I know he would. "It was too dangerous."

"Since when have you been so worried about how dangerous an experiment is?"

"Since this is the last chance to give the other version of you and me a half decent life and some iota of the comfort and future we've had to live without! I can't just magic a new time machine out of thin air Trunks! This is our last hope. Our resources are completely depleted. Do you want to fail, after everything we've done, after all the hardships we have suffered for this single purpose! You might be prepared to do that but I'm not!"

"Hey… whoa… calm down mom!" He grabs my flailing arms, pulling me into an affectionate embrace. "I'm sorry. Shhhh… I'm sorry."

I can't control my body shaking. Look at me. What a messed up, deranged old woman I've become. So twisted that I have to be this way with my own son, so stupid that I have to defend my own actions with lies! "Don't be. I'm acting like a bitch. I just…" He releases his hold and I walk to the window, looking out across the potted and scarred landscape of the city.

I feel Trunks' hands landing on my shoulders, kneading and soothing the tension from them. "I guess it's getting to us both." He concedes. "I thought it was just me, and learning more about father, but I didn't even think… it must be hard on you. Hearing about all your old friends, people you cared about and loved. Goku, Krillin. Yamcha…. dad."

I can't stop the beginnings of tears as they blur my vision. My emotions are too shattered and powerful to be held back. "Yes… It hurts a lot."

"I wish…" His voice is apprehensive, "I wish you'd tell me more about dad."

"Trunks… I…"

"It's ok, I know it's hard for you. I'm not pressuring you… it's…" He pauses, "Never mind."

"Why do you need to know now? When you've already met him."

"He wasn't particularly talkative. About all he wanted me to do was quit staring at him. He sure was one cranky guy."

I chuckle slightly and it hurts through the emotion. "That's one way to put it. A stubborn, up himself, egocentric moron, would be another."

He laughs. "And that's it?" He persists, "There was no deeper level?"

"It depends." I sigh, "With Vegeta it was always hard to tell."

"How so?"

"I mean, that one day he'd let you see things you never dreamed he could see and feel so properly, and then others… others it was as if he had never let the emotion escape in the first place. It was as though he never quite knew how to define any thought. He doubted every motive, questioned every movement, and scorned every emotion. Some days getting a syllable to leave his lips was like trying to get blood from a stone, then other's he'd talk endlessly. Usually about nothing in particular, it was insult followed by insult, just on occasion though he'd hit a block, a hard day in training - a crack in his solidified hate, and he'd talk about his past of how things were supposed to have been for him. He spoke about the history and pride of the Saiya-jin race - of the palace he grew up in - and his father. It was sensible, compelling, and passionate. Spoken with the sensibilities of a son, warrior, and victim. An awesome fighter he was, but not many people saw the philosopher in him. He'd want to be remembered as an elite warrior, and I do that, I liked it in him, but I loved the strength of his mind all the more."

He smiles in contentment. There is nothing but compassionate emotion, flowing over his countenance, as his eyes silently thank me.

Calming from the clamor of my emotion I pat his hand once and move to sit back down by my desk. The vibrant color from the packet of cigarettes, stares up at me through the dim light. Needing something to give my body activity I take one and nonchalantly offer Trunks another. To my surprise he takes it. "You know these will kill us one day." He laughs, lighting his and exhaling in a long breath.

I shrug, "Better these than androids." He passes me the lighter, and I inhale as the flame dances at the cigarettes end. There is silence for a moment as we both relax with the mood and nicotine.

"You know, I had my first cigarette when I was fourteen." I continue, breaking the seriousness. "I remember finding a packet of Gramps' Marlborough on the kitchen table, and… being curious, I tried one."

"And?"

"I took a huge lung full right off the bat." I chuckle, "I coughed so hard it made me sick. For months after I'd try and fit in at school and afterwards by smoking, but I'd keep it stored in my cheeks rather than inhaling. I looked like a chipmunk! How about you?"

"Pretty much the same." He shrugs with a sly smile.

"What!" I screech, "You stole one of Gramps' cigarettes! But you were only five years old when he died!"

"No not Gramps'… yours." He accuses. "It's all your fault."

"Why you little tealeaf!" I scold. "What else of mine have you pinched Trunks Vegeta-Briefs?"

He smirks, his fathers smirk. "That's for me to know and you to find out." He gets up and stretches. "Well I guess I'm going to go to bed. I'm shattered and I've got an early start in the morning. You coming?"

"With a common little thief?" I accuse. "Not a chance!"

He frowns at me, and I try to pout. Neither of us can keep a straight face. "I'll be up in a few minutes. There's a couple of things I need to finish up first?"

"Sure thing. Make sure you don't forget to turn the android alarm on tonight."

"Trunks… I never forget."

"Nope… that's because I always remind you." He smiles. "Night, night."

"Sweet dreams kiddo." I can just about see the muscles tense in his back as he rounds the door. I laugh out loud. He really hates it when I call him that.

As soon as I can no longer hear the padding of his feet on the stairs I turn back to the computer. My pulse is beating double. There is not long to go now. Only a few more hours and the machine will be fully charged. I can't shake the nervousness and the palpitations raking through my body. If I get it right then… then. Shit! I'm a bundle of nerves. I need to recheck everything. Have to make sure this will go exactly as I want it to.

Dropping my hand I search the bottom of the desk. Finding the small thumbprint device under the main drawer, I precede to unlock the one hidden below. The dry wood squeaks a little as I pull it out and I pause, fearful that Trunks will hear and suspect. After a lengthy time, and with breath held, I finally look at the contents.

I smile. They are all exactly as I left them, and with a reassuring layer of dust. They haven't been interfered with. Not that I expected the security tags would be, but in a day and age of doubt, I can't help being pessimistic at times. I run my finger over the laminated back of one and close my eyes. They will help me move around the compound as much as I like, added with retina scans. I just have to be careful how many people actually see me. It has to documented that I haven't aged as much as most women, but I still don't think I could get away with being a vivacious twenty-seven year old, no matter how much I wish it were otherwise.

My attention is turned back to the flickering monitor, glowing against the backdrop of gloom. It's demanding a date for programming. I can feel the emotion rising to my cheeks as I thumb around in my overall pocket to find the small, beaten and sorry looking diary that's kept there. I flick it open at the page it falls naturally at. I have read and re-read this entry so many times. I know it off by heart, but knowing and seeing, confirming… well they are two different matters. Somehow having it written down makes it more real.

June 23rd

Today, for the first time in as long as I can remember, I cried. You may make reference to the entry I made last night, but this is different. Tonight the tears weren't wrung out of heartache or sadness, but pure joy.

You can all call me sappy, an emotional bigot or a hormonal disaster junkie as Yamcha has often said, but I don't care. As I write this I can't think of anything to call myself other than the luckiest woman alive.

He is still here…wrapped up in the hold of sleep next to me. His legs are intertwined with mine and his arm wrapped protectively around my waist, as though I am the most precious item he possesses. I can feel his breath, on my neck and the rise and fall of his chest, making writing this entry, exceeding tricky.

He didn't throw me to the side; he didn't cut me down, and make fun of my emotions. He accepted me for what I am, admitted that it was right to care, and made me feel like I was…was…needed, appreciated, protected… by him.

In the morning it will change. I know it will…but for tonight this is us… me…him… what I love. Let the morning come. I have the courage, given by him, and I can face it all. He will not bear me to say it to his face and so I have promised I will not, but this is not the same, this is me, and my acceptance… I love you Vegeta… I love you.

Bulma Briefs.

What can I say… that's the feeling that has kept me awake at night, made all this I have to bear right now, so much more crushing, because the morning did come, and many subsequent after. Trunks was born into this world and still nothing more was said to advance or consolidate the relationship. I never saw him that way again and ever since I have doubted, doubted my own feelings and his… wondered. I have to see it again. See without the moment, without the eyes of lust to cloud my judgment.

Am I selfish? Probably… but I don't care. I don't want to die with this insanity still hanging over me. This has been my plan from the beginning. Changing another timeline, giving a different version of me the opportunity to live without constant fear, well it was nothing more than serendipity… a latent addition that gave my obsession more solid purpose. I never envisioned how difficult it would be, how many risks there could be involved with such a project, if I had… oh Kami! If only I had been given the luxury of foresight.

Yet another reason to feel shitty, but I have to keep telling myself that what has happened is not an excuse to stop when I am so close, but a reason to continue. I owe completion, even if it is a selfish and absurd conclusion. Trunks will too. If my soul was darkened the day I met Vegeta, then at least Trunks can be the integrity to justify our unity.

I have to take several large inhales before I get courage enough to type the date I wish to return to. Each button of the keyboard seems so far apart, each component of it so heavy with suspense. I feel numb as I type.

The next hour and a half is given up to running final diagnostics, and double-checking that the height and structure of this room will accommodate a leap back in time without waking Trunks. I have checked and rechecked all the figures so many times, but I have to be doing something to calm my nerves. It is, of course, an exercise in futility, but my mind clings to the occupation as phantom therapy anyway.

As the last blip of energy flips up to show the machine is fully replenished for a leap back in time, I make sure my hair is smoothed under a hat. I'm all ready to go and I can feel my insides knot in a churning mixture of fear and doubt as I relinquish my lab coat to show off the dark red dress underneath. The beautifully tailored material clings to me a little tightly, but then it is the last relic of my formerly extensive wardrobe. All the others have been ravaged by time and destruction, but this one… this one has memories like no other, and I will wear it as a last link to my prince and the fire it managed to inspire.

As a last farewell I sweep my eyes over the silent and cluttered expanse of my lab, noting with a sigh that this will be the last time I will set eyes on it for a while. Running a thumb over the capsules in my overnight bag and rechecking my security tags are firmly in place, I whisper a sad "Sleep well son" to Trunks and walk up the ladder to sit down in the awkward seat. The seal hisses down over my head, and after nervously wringing my hands for a couple of minutes, convincing my mind that this is definitely the right thing to be doing, I reach forward, pressing the button that will initiate the launch.

My over-nerved stomach, hiccups once more as the large machine lifts elegantly from the floor. I close my eyes, gripping the side of my chair, repeating over and over that doing this is the right thing… the right thing, and only as I feel the heat building and rippling over my body, do I relax and exhale the breath that had caught in my lungs. Who cares if it's right or not? There's definitely no going back now.

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AN - I make life difficult for myself don't I… but this story has been bugging me to be written for months now, and I knew the voices in my head wouldn't keep quiet until I put fingers to keyboard… *grumbles* Darn slave-driving muses!