Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Silver Terror ❯ Final Struggle ( Chapter 4 )

There are things you do because you have to
there are things you do because you want to
…and then there are the things you do for love.
~ Source unknown

The things we do for love

He dealt a backhand. Hard. Powered by ki, and hitting home with full strength… right in the throat. Trunks allowed himself a smirk and moved to kick his opponent down into the earth. The Terror, reflexively clawing at his throat, did not have time to defend and crashed into the hill below with a thundering crash.
A few moments respite.
He's weakening, said Bra. But I am not sure it will be enough.
Trunks took a few unguarded, deep breaths. I don't care. I just want to hurt him.
…
He felt her hesitation. What is it, Bra?
There is a plan to destroy the Terror. But mom is not sure whether it will work. And we'll have to give it our all. It will be dangerous.
Trunks snorted, checking the damage below him. The dust was clearing and the debris was stirring. His opponent should return soon; he'd better make sure he relocated before that time. And fighting like this isn't? he retorted pointedly.
This is worse.
I don't see how. There. Silver was gleaming. Trunks dove out of the area where the Terror would expect him. He was only half paying attention to the mental conversation with his sister - the fight was top priority.
I don't know how to say this, her young mental voice groaned.
Show me, then.
Silver energy burst out of the ground in a bad parody of molten magma. It glittered in the sunlight for a moment, before Trunks deflected it and let it explode in the open sky with a blast of his own. "Missed me, bastard," he breathed. That was all the time he had, before the Terror descended upon him and flashes of images, much like he had experienced during his time travel, bloomed up in his mind.
-Young Trunks and Goten fusing into Gotenks
-"We can fight, we're not dead yet"-
-Bleeding, unfocused, but determined, ready-
-Bulma, bloodstains on her face, telling them "You'll be a decoy"-
-Ki energy sparkling around two combatants - silver and gold-
-and himself, immersing his body in silver-
…Silver Armor?
-("I managed to reproduce the silver armor…")-
He'd be undefeatable.
He'd probably go insane, too.
Would you?
Could you?
For one heartbeat, he did not know. Then: thoughts.
Damned if you do, damned if you don't. You can't win, they will die. And you, who are you anyway- you're from a dead future. What does it matter what happens to you? Give your life, and Marron and Bra will live. Goten and Young Trunks will live. This future will live. And it's not even your life… just your sanity, or whatever is left. Is that such a high price to pay?
He thought of Marrons sweet smile, and it wasn't.
"I'll do it," he told Bra out loud, his eyes still locked on the expressionless silver face of his opponent. Still battling. Always battling, as if they'd never stop and fight forever.
Bra was silent for a few moments. Sudden grief weighed upon his mind. Was it his or hers? I'll protect you, she vowed suddenly. Her mental voice was vehement; her attacks on the Terror were venomous. She vowed with the unbreakably strong belief and the resolve of the eleven year old child she was. I won't let you go insane.
Trunks just fought the Terror, and thought of love, prices and sanity.

***

"Fu…. sion…. HA!"
The two young men were emanated by a bright light. When it subsided, there was one where there had been two. Dark fathomless eyes that reminded Bulma of both Vegeta and Goku, a cocky grin, and strands of both lavender and black hair. "Don't worry," Gotenks said in his strange double voice. "I'll take care of it all."
"You're still bleeding," Dende remarked.
"Shit happens," shrugged Gotenks. "Heal me when I'm back." The fused being locked eyes with Bulma. "I'll send Trunks to you, and he can put on the armor. Tell him to hurry, I don't know how long I can hold the Terror off."
"Just do what you can," Bulma said breathless, taking in the youth before her. She needed to look, needed to see, needed to remember… because maybe - no, no, don't think that. She had to say it, though. "Don't die."
"I won't."
Gotenks nodded at Dende, looked at her and Bra one last time - not to say goodbye (she couldn't afford to think like that) and then took off, powering up until he shone as golden as the sun. He had been careful enough to power up when he was well out of range, so the Terror wouldn't guess their location. It probably wouldn't notice anyhow, because it was too busy battling Future Trunks, but Bulma was glad that Gotenks took precautions.
It didn't take long until Bra opened her eyes. "He's on his way."
Bulma nodded and thought how good it was to see her daughter awake.
"It's good to be awake… because I can do this!" her daughter grinned, and hugged Bulma hard. "Will we be alright, mom?"
Bulma could not help hugging back. "I hope so. I'm so sorry."
"Me too."
"For what?"
Passionately, Bra buried her face in Bulma's shoulder. "For not being strong enough."
Bulma stroked her daughter's hair and wanted to cry. "Darling, you are magnificent. All of you are. I love you."
"I love you too," Bra whispered, and then tore herself loose to turn around.
Future Trunks touched ground.

***

It was strange to fight without Piccolo, Gotenks mused, as he dove headfirst into battle. This Terror was definitely stronger than the one he/they had fought earlier. It was also… weakening, somehow. Gotenks tried to probe into the mind of the Terror, but a stabbing headache prevented him from going too far. "Argh, that wasn't such a good idea," he groaned, somersaulting out of the Terror's reach for a moment. "Just old fashioned martial arts then," he decided and readied himself.
His headache was blinding and stabbing, his vision was shimmery and blurry at the edges and his whole body was throbbing with pain and energy alike, but Gotenks was determined to make a stand.
And if it would be the last one, so be it.

***

For one moment, Bulma could not believe how beautiful her future son looked. Hadn't the Silver Terror called themselves Angels of Death? Trunks looked like the epitome of an avenging angel. His hair had come loose from his ponytail and was matted with blood. His armor was cracked and had even melted at places. He looked bruised and battered, had a black eye and a dangerous-looking bruise at his right temple, his lips were swollen and his eyes were pools of blue electricity - but he looked beautiful. That was all she could think of. Beautiful.
"Give me the armor," he croaked. "Quickly."
"Of course." She reached into her pockets, and found the capsule. "I am so sorry."
"Don't be," he spat impatiently, as he waited for the capsule to reveal its contents. "I am glad to pay the price. Tell Goten and Trunks to kill me before I lose all control."
"I will."
The late afternoon sunlight gleamed on the armor before Trunks took it in his hands. "You have to help me," he said. His voice sounded uneven, emotion cracking through.
Bulma, Dende and Bra all helped him.
"I am so sorry," Bulma whispered again, before she clasped the last part shut. All he had to do now was put the mask on, and he would be gone.
"Don't be," he said again and smiled weakly.
"I'll be with you," Bra said. Fresh tears were running over her dust-smeared cheeks. "I won't leave you."
"That makes me glad," he whispered. His eyes were filling with tears, too.
Dende blessed him quickly. "Our thoughts are with you."
"My love is with you," Bulma told him, when he took the mask in his hands.
He looked wistful at the blue sky and smiled sadly. "The things we do for love…"

Future Trunks put on the mask.

The silver rolled like mercury over his skin and his hair and locked seamlessly into place. Where there had been a demi-saiya-jin before, a true Angel of Death now emerged: glittering, gleaming, and pulsing with energy and rage despite the expressionless mask. Behind the mask, a young and pained man was hiding, and he was determined to fight and give his all. "The things we do for love," Bra repeated. The young girl wiped her tears, gave her mother a last, longing look, and closed her eyes to join him.
The last phase of the battle had started.


~~~***~~~***~~~

Be scared of me
Behind my power
I will hide all my fears
It is fierce and it moves slow
~The Gathering, `Locked Away'


Be Scared Of Me

"The things we do for love…" Trunks whispered, looking at the sky for what seemed the last time. The sky was starting to tint a tender lavender color in places - the color of early twilight. He would end this. For Marron. The shreds of his sanity seemed a small price to pay for her life… all of their lives.
Trunks placed the silver mask on his face, immersing himself into the silver, holding nothing back. He gave himself to the armor, allowed it all to be swallowed into the silver. There was a sensation of rolling and dripping, like mercury.
(cold)
(so cold)
The silver encased him now, protecting him like a precious jewel. It dulled his senses and his pain… never mind that he was so cold inside. At least it did not hurt as much anymore.
Did it?
(i)
(am)
(so)
(cold)
He tried to touch around in his mind, to probe and sense, but all he could feel was the silver surrounding him. He felt claustrophobic at once - was this how it was not to be telepathic? To be stuck in your own mind, with your thoughts, alone and trapped?
He tried to gasp and found he could not breathe. Yet he was still functioning. He was still standing and looking around at a dull overcast world that seemed devoid of color - and while he could not detect the beating of his heart or the heaving of his lungs, he was still alive. Alive in the most practical sense of the world, that was.
He was not sure if he wanted to be.
When the worst feelings of entrapment and claustrophobia began to subside, Trunks became aware of his duty again. Gotenks. His silver adversary. The fight. The battle. Revenge.
He had nothing to be afraid of anymore.
All at once, he exploded into the peak of his power, and found that he could reach much, much higher. He let out a delighted scream that no living soul would ever hear (it echoed in his own mind, but that was enough for now - it even created a sense of intimacy) and took off into the lavender sky. He spiraled with delight, indulging in his newfound power. This should be enough. With this he could have his (sweet, wonderful, glorious, sweet, sweetsweetsweet) revenge. The Terror would pay.
He felt another mind brush his shields, but he brutally pushed it away. He did not need this. It was not relevant. He needed to… he needed to fight. To hurt. And he would be all alone in his battle. It would be all his. He would shine, and he would make his enemy bleed.

***

Behind him/them, Gotenks felt power spiking. Unbelievable, incredible power. That had to be Future Trunks, he decided. It could not be anything else - the ki was too familiar. Too much like part of his own ki, but older, wiser, sadder… and more ruthless. Future Trunks' ki felt tainted somehow, and there was something odd about it. Gotenks could not focus on it; it felt as if his battle instinct was being deflected: like touching a mirror.
Actually, it was much like trying to reach out to the Silver Terror he was trying to beat senseless. Aside from the blinding headache, of course. He had lost part of his vision in his right eye, and he was too numb to feel where he was bleeding. He did not doubt that it was from various places. Future Trunks was right on time; Gotenks was not sure if he could hold out much longer. Pain exploded in his stomach when he failed to defend from a nasty punch in the stomach. Blood-flecked spit sparkled in the last sunrays for a moment as he doubled over in pain. A kick against his head immediately followed. He knew it had been coming, but he had been unable to dodge.
Oh well, at least I got a few good hits in before I went down, he thought hazily while the wind whistled in his ears. When he landed, all of the air was hit out of his lungs. Gasping for breath and fighting for his consciousness, the last thing Gotenks saw was sunlight gleaming on the two silver figures hovering above him/them.
It's all in your hands now, Future Trunks. I did what I could…

***

Gritting her teeth, Bulma dragged the two unconscious youths in her aircar. It wasn't as if they were that heavy, but she had to be careful with them, as they were bleeding from numerous cuts and lacerations. The constant shuddering and moaning of the earth under her boots did not make it any easier. Dende kneeled next to them to assess their physical situation. They looked even worse for wear now, Bulma thought, chewing on her lip as she climbed in as well. She glanced one more time over her shoulder at the people in the back. "Are you all comfortable there?" she asked Dende. He was the only one awake. Piccolo was still in that strange state of coma, and Bra was far, far away.
The Guardian of Earth nodded. "We are alright. Please, we have to leave now; there is no time to waste."
"Okay." Bulma nodded and turned the key for ignition. Ignoring the glaring kiblasts above her, she hit the gas and they sped away. She wanted to get as much distance between them and the two combatants as soon as possible; there was too much ki being thrown around here. Staying would be simply too dangerous, even though her heart yearned to see her future son fight the battle of his life.
Besides, they had to use the dragonballs, and it was too perilous to summon the Eternal Dragon in the middle of a battlefield. They needed space, safety, time… and if she were wishing anyway, then they needed a lot of luck, too.

***

(Yesyesyes, come to me-)
He was drinking in the energy - all he could muster and more.
Drinking and drowning and indulging…
(and fighting, don't forget the fighting)
Fighting was almost an afterthought. He was overflowing with energy - throwing something in the general direction of his opponent was the easiest thing in the world. It would have been boring if he had not felt so good.
He felt so good…
It was razor-sharp, white-hot and mercury and blood-red, but it felt deliriously good. Because it was him that was the energy. The energy was all his to bathe and to indulge in. The energy was everything; never mind that it was tainted by hate.
He was everything.

***

Dende had almost finished healing Goten, when a choked sound next to him made him look up. He locked eyes with a very distraught looking Bra. "What is it, Bra?" he asked.
The young girl looked at him with blue eyes filled with terror, not even aware of the dangerously high speed the aircar she sat in was traveling with. She just looked at Dende in despair. "I can't reach him," she gasped. "I don't know what to do anymore…"
The young Guardian of Earth did not know what to answer her.

***

It was not even a fair battle, but he enjoyed crushing his opponent. The armor was dented now - it did not shine as brightly anymore
(that's because I stole it)
he enjoyed that - he enjoyed the whistle of the wind in his air, the mercury in his blood, the sound his first made when they connected
(like splintering)
He could end it of course.
But why would he?
Absently, he swatted away yet another attempt on intrusion of his mind shields.

***

When they had reached a location that was remote enough for her liking, Bulma hit the brakes abruptly. She found herself on a beach to the east of where the battle was taking place. The sheer amount of energy that was being summoned made her neckhair stand on end even out here. She forced herself not to look at the flashes of color that were discoloring the sunset - it would only make her worry. And there was work to do.
She opened her case of capsules while the others were climbing out of the aircar. Dende was half-carrying Bra out. Her daughter had been crying again, Bulma noticed. Her heart went out to her. Goten and Trunks got out all by themselves. They looked immensely tired and still rather disheveled. "How's your head?" she asked them.
"Achy," Trunks answered shortly. He looked at his childhood friend. "But I can focus again. Can you?"
The youngest Son nodded tentatively. "Yes. But everything aches anyhow. That's because of the healing - I'm all stiff. But we'll be fine. Let's just call the Dragon, Bulma. Don't worry about us."
"Alright."
The capsule opened with its trademark BOOM, revealing seven amber balls that gleamed in the evening sunlight. They all exhaled with relief. The dragonballs were there, they were real, and they would solve everything, like they always had.
"Dende," said Bulma with a voice strained with tension, "would you be so kind to summon the Eternal Dragon for us?"
"Of course," the Namek smiled, and called forth his Dragon.

***

Bra desperately tried to gather her despairing mind. It felt as if she had knocked over a glass of water that contained her thoughts, and as if they were spilling everywhere now. She had problems concentrating, mostly because she was so scared. She was terrified.
I promised him, I can't let him down. Come ON! Trunks please, we have a link… we were connected all that time, why did you shut me out?
She was banging on a wall of silver: a massive mirror, too solid to break through.
It did not feel like Trunks at all. Not like the sweet, pained look in his eyes, every time he looked at her. Not like her saddest biggest brother, no matter what future he came from. He had hugged her and she had given him all the support she could, and he had been there, always, when she needed him, and gratefully taken what she gave him.
She loved him. He was her big brother. A wall of silver shouldn't be able to separate them, right? Trunks! I am here! Please, listen to me Trunks!
(I DON'T NEED YOU) the thought thundered in her mind.
Her breath caught. A jolt of adrenaline made her shudder. Is this my brother? she wondered, touching the impenetrable silver wall. He seemed so… alien. So overpowering. Like a God. Not like her big future brother.
(I AM MORE THAN THAT. NOW GO AWAY)
Bra's mental fingers made the silver ripple. I don't care about that. You are my brother. I have to be with you. I promised.
He did not answer… but Bra did not mind. At some level, some part of him, he was listening. And for now, that was enough. She took a deep breath, and filled her mind with images of the people she knew he loved. He would listen, and that was all she needed. She knew the path to his heart.
And so she sent a mental picture of Marron in sunlight, the way she had been on the party, almost a year ago.

***

"I am summoned," the Eternal Dragon boomed. "What are your wishes?"
Dende looked up at the Dragon in the darkened sky. The dragonballs were his own creation, but it still awed him every time he saw what they could do. "I wish for the resurrection and the restoration to power of my friends that passed away today. Please make it so."
The dragoneyes glowed. "It is done."
"Yes!" Goten cheered, high-fiving his friend.
"What is your second wish?"
Dende hesitated for a moment. "I suppose you can't tell us how we can get Trunks out of his armor?"
"The only one who can do that is himself. I cannot tell you more."
"Thank you, Eternal Dragon. We would like to make our second wish."
The Dragon hovered over them. "Tell me."
"I would like for the ones you just resurrected, to be here with us now. Could you bring them?"
"It will be done. I will go back to sleep now."
Within a heartbeat, the Dragon disappeared. The dragonballs flashed their magical light once more, and then sped off in different directions. It would be a year before they could be used again. But that did not matter, because behind him Piccolo stirred in the aircar, and Goku, Vegeta, Gohan and Marron materialized out of thin air.
"Welcome back, warriors," said Dende warmly.
Bulma made a sound deep in her throat and seemed to hesitate for a second before leaping into Vegeta's arms. Reflexively, he caught her and held her for a moment, burying his face in her hair. Their moment was short, but full of warmth, before he let her go and muttered something about embarrassment and public.
"Thank you Dende," Goku answered brightly, wrapping his arms around his two sons. "It is good to be back."
And there was one more reunion, but that one was wordless. Marron had thrown herself around young Trunks and was kissing him passionately. The demi Saiya-jin did not hesitate; he kissed her back joyfully. When their kiss finally ended, she looked at him with twinkling eyes and grinned: "So now we got to kiss at last."
"I do not know why I waited so long," Trunks answered, smiling down on her and hugging her tightly. "I'm so glad to see you."
The Guardian of Earth looked upon the Z Senshi, and felt hopeful inside.


~~~***~~~***~~~

And you give in
And you give out, for it
Ain't it so weird
How it makes you a weapon.
Never turn your back on it
Never turn your back on it again
Be careful
~ Matthew Good Band - `Weapon'


Blood and Mercury

He felt violated. Something had wriggled its way inside his perfect sanctuary, and it was worming deeper and deeper into his mind. It was distracting him. It felt filthy somehow - he did not want anyone here. And however he tried to banish this thing out of his mind, it would not go. It clung onto some discarded part of his mind; it seemed to encourage the growth of an unnecessary remnant of his old life that he did not even want to look at anymore. His old life had been filled with pain and sadness, and he had left it behind without any regrets, embraced the searing power that had scorched him clean.
He now was pure perfection and power and energy and rage, why would he want to hang onto the imperfect being he used to be?
But that thing was feeding his old memories. It was reviving that part of him he wanted to die. He could not have that.
However, his toying with the Silver Terror distracted him from chasing his intruder out. He had to end it somehow. One of these two threats had to be eliminated soon, or he would fall apart and go insane on the spot. On some instinctive level, he was sure that his old memories would desecrate his painless and beautiful sanctuary, damaging it beyond any relief. They had to remain locked up forever. They. Had. To.
The being that used to be Trunks took a deep breath and breathed pure energy. It filled him with power until he thought he would burst. He ignored the feeble attempts of his enemy, his toy, to break loose from his death grip. It wasn't as if those attempts were fruitful, anyway. He kept drawing in energy - drawing and drawing.
He would end it.

***

"Dende!" Bulma shrieked. "He's outshining the sun!"
"What on earth is going on there?" Goten pulled loose from his father's embrace and stared at the eastern horizon with horror in his eyes. The power of the ki that was being channeled was beyond any belief. He had been unable to feel the ki of the Silver Terror, but somehow he was very able to detect Trunks. Maybe because he had been fused with his younger counterpart on a regular basis - it was a feeling as familiar as feeling himself. There was a difference, of course. This ki was infinitely stronger, and horrible and silver.
"Someone is going to die," Vegeta commented, crossing his arms. His voice was laced with amusement. "And I don't think that it is that kid from the future."

***

Two silver figures gleamed in the evening sky, burning brighter than they had any right to be. Ki energy crackled around them, as one of them was trying to struggle itself out of the hold the other had on its neck.
No one would have survived being in their near vicinity - the sheer energy that they produced would have killed any normal living being instantly. It was crushing the earth beneath them and made the sky seem as if it was cooking. Clouds were swirling around in mad patterns and lightning forked between the sky and the ground. Gusts of wind tugged at the ragged landscape. Tornados were formed and died on the spot. The earth moaned and shuddered, cracking the rocks and leveling the hills with a haywire gravity.
And the two silver figures did not even notice. They just continued their struggle.
Or rather, one of them seemed to struggle, while the other just seemed to hold him.
The enormity of what was happening here was felt all over the globe, but they did not seem to care. All that existed for them was the other, and the battle.

***

There was a second battle was going on, unseen to any living person. It was vaguely felt by any telepathic creature that happened to reside in the vicinity of Earth, however: it was a battle of minds. An eleven year old girl with blue hair was battling against the mind of an armored youth that desperately wanted to forget a part of himself. It took all of Bra's willpower to remind him again and again. She knew that he had just fled from the pain and immersed himself in his armor and his power to finally cleanse himself of the sadness and the edges of insanity. She knew that he would probably be happier this way; but he was too dangerous. He did not know what he was doing anymore. Her big brother had fancied himself a kami in a matter of minutes after putting on the armor. What would happen in a few hours? Would he take on a kai? Would he destroy the universe? She had to awake the Trunks inside of the Silver Terror, or else all would be lost forever.
Bra Briefs bit her lip and battled. She did not even notice the salt water streaming from her closed eyelids, or her mothers arms around her. All that existed for her was the other, and the battle.

***

Here by my side; an angel,
Here by my side; the devil.
Never turn your back on me,
Never turn your back on me, again.
Here by my side, it's heaven.

***

"Shouldn't we join him?" asked Trunks, shielding his eyes against the bright light. He was trying to follow the battle from their remote location, but he could not make anything out.
Goku, standing in a similar position, shook his head. He glanced at the entranced Bra for a moment, almost cringing under the weight of her sheer presence. The mind of the young girl was miles away, but still so overwhelmingly present that he had to shield himself. He was afraid that she would crush him completely if he would let go for only a second. Of course he was very sensitive to mental energy; so he was suffering worse than most of the others. Gohan was sitting with his head in his hands, not even bothering to look up at the ki lights in the stormy sky. He was clearly suffering as well. Piccolo was sitting next to his former pupil, his face tight with tension and his lips curled in a silent growl.
Vegeta was staring in eastern direction with a similar tight face, but did not show much else. Goku suspected that the Saiya-jin prince would rather die than admit the pressure that was upon him, even though he must be proud of his daughter.
Goten and Trunks were the only ones that seemed to be coping easily; probably because of their head injury. Most of the mental communication seemed to pass them without being noticed. Goku figured that in this situation this was probably a good thing.
He looked at Bra and Bulma for a moment. Bulma's beautiful face was twisted with grief and anxiety, while she held her daughter tightly. He thought for a moment about her horrible invention, and what it must have taken to offer it to Future Trunks. She had asked him to sacrifice himself because she had no other choice. And now her daughter and the boy that would have been her son in another time were fighting the battle of their lives, because of the decision she had taken. She had to be hurting so much.
He wanted to help them so much. It was his nature to want to ease people's suffering, but he could not do anything right now. Not yet, at least. Finally he said to Trunks: "We have to wait. Bra will tell us when to go."
And so he waited.

***

~It is dark. Light from the glowing embers of the campfire is making flickering shadows on Marron's face. She is frowning into the fire, struggling to accept the things had had happened the past few days~
(ignored)
~The two of them, him and Goten, sitting on the edge of a pool, their feet in the water, the distinct smell of chlorine in his nose. There are cold drinks in their hands, they are talking about life and girls~
(ignored)
~His parents on Aranza, bickering with smiles on their faces. Vegeta scoops Bulma up in his arms and flies off with her~
(pushed away)
~Bra jumps into his arms and hugs him for all she's worth. "You are my favorite big brother," she giggles into his chest. She is seven years old~
(roughly shoved away)
~When they kiss, their tears mingle. He pulls Marron close, savoring this last intense moment together. They are standing just in front of the time machine, debris and dust all around them, embracing each other~

(sob)
(leave me alone)

The memories kept coming.

***
Here by my side
you are destruction
Here by my side
a new color to paint the world
Never turn your back on it
Never turn your back on it, again
Here by my side, it's heaven

***

Banishing the mental assault out of his vault of pure energy, Trunks began to pound on his enemy. A flurry of punches and kicks, well-placed and high-powered, rendered his adversary helpless. Its defenses were weak and inefficient. He broke through them with ease. Splinters of silver shattered in the light of his ki. It was almost laughable. He could not imagine that he had ever been scared of this pathetic little thing.
One quick swing sent the thing he had once been afraid of sprawling in the air. Filled with energy, Trunks extended his arms almost lazily in the typical Final Flash gesture.
"Fi…."
One notch higher. He probably already contained enough to vaporize the Terror, but he did not want to take any chances. A little more.
"…nal…"
He focused his energies on his adversary.
"FLASH!"
A release that felt better than anything he would ever feel racked his body. Brilliant violet-silver light sprung from his extended palms. For a moment he was dazzled by its beauty, almost forgetting where he was supposed to send it. But the moment was short, and he did not lose control.
(final flash final revenge)
One shot. Straight up. The violet-silver streaked through the sky, mocking every rainbow that would ever grace the skies in the future. And when it connected, the light intensified until no one would be able to look straight into it. Ribbons of light reflected into the evening sky, lighting it up for a heartbeat, while the rest of it did what it was supposed to do. It vaporized.
The Silver Terror could not scream physically, but Trunks clearly felt the high pitched sound of complete pain and horror echo in his mind. It did not even touch him - aside from stirring some vague feelings of contentment.
He looked straight into his own final flash, and watched with satisfaction how the armor simply melted off the Terror. It became liquid, drops of it scattered in the air (like blood and mercury) before they were finally vaporized, leaving nothing behind.
When the light subsided and his retina's had recovered from the spots in his vision, he could not find any traces left.
The Silver Terror was dead. He had killed it.
Yet you made a new one, a familiar voice echoed in his mind. Bra?
He ignored it, and laughed delightedly at his own victory. He had won. Victory and revenge were his. At last.


***
Be careful
This is where the world drops off
This is where the world drops off
Be careful



~~~***~~~***~~~
Oh, if you're coming down to rescue me
Now would be perfect
Please, if you're coming down to rescue me
Now would be perfect…
~ K's Choice - `Shadowman


Final Struggle

In all victory there is weakness. He is so busy rejoicing over his triumph, that he is totally unprepared for the mind attack. It feels like being backstabbed; it is painful, unexpected. Most of all, it is his own stupid mistake. How could he be so careless?
She dives and wriggles deeper into his secluded world of thoughts.
The strength of her mind scares him senseless.
She speaks. I am here, Trunks, I won't go away and leave you alone.
(but i want to)
I promised I wouldn't leave you all by yourself.
(break it)
I won't break my promise.
(please)
No.
Stubborn. So damn stubborn.
She has bitten into his mind like a rabid dog, and her presence is tainting him, seeping into his brain like (rabies) a disease. She is desecrating his sanctuary - destroying his peace with images of his past. He does not want her here. She has to go.
(leave now)
No. I can't.
(if you will not leave, i have to kick you out)
Try me. - Defying, determined.
(i would hate to hurt you. i remember loving you once.)
A moment of pressing silence. She is twisting at some old memories, trying to tear them loose from his guard. Dammit. You still love me. You just don't want to remember.
A memory is torn loose, slipping out of his grip to torment him. A flash of memories cascades over him like waves in the ocean. The ocean… a beach.
~ a beach. Golden sand and golden sun. A little girl with blue hair smiles up to him, her eyes radiating a complete trust and happiness. He picks her up and twirls her around. She is squealing in delight and he laughs back at her, oh he laughs ~
He screams in rage. This is not supposed to happen! With all his strength, he slams down his shields again, only to find that they are already crumbling. He has virtually no defense against her ongoing attacks. He can sense her fatigue, but knows (another twice-damned memory) that she's too stubborn to give up. That was just the way she works. He remembers. Oh yes, he remembers.
~ a song. Powerful, fast, full of rage. `Don't you realize that evil lives in the skin?' He dances around his room. He stretches out his arms and yells the lyrics along on top of his lungs. The adrenaline is dizzying. Kami, that feels good ~
She penetrates his shields with laughable ease. You're not evil. You are the best person I know. Her mental voice is soft and soothing.
But he realizes.
(don't you)
(realize)
(that evil)
(lives in the motherfucking skin)
He slams her out of his mind. It is not even shoving anymore; his thoughts have created a battering ram that kick her out with a power that seems so vast that it can only be fueled by hatred. Scorching, purifying (sweet) hate. It's so easy to hate. He indulges in it.
(GET OUT!!!)
She bounces back again just as quickly. I love you, she starts tentatively.
(fire, scorching fire, burning him clean, please please burn me clean)
He doesn't want this pain (this taint) inside of him. He is safe here, nothing can hurt him. Why won't they leave him alone? Hasn't he done enough already? Feebly, he tries to defend the old parts of himself. He can't let her get to him, he knows that, but it's almost useless to even try.
Yes! The female voice in his mind squeals with triumph as she unlocks another memory. He feels the backlash when it snaps free. He has tried to guard it, but she is stronger than he is. Kami, he is so scared.
(please leave me - oh. Oh, no)
~ Lavender sky, sunset. Sadness, resolve. A feeling of self-righteous sacrifice.
"The things we do for love," he whispers. ~
Love?
(…)
~ Her sweet taste makes him feel light-headed. "I am sorry, Marron," he says and hits her in her neck. She convulses only once before turning limp in his arms. He picks her up and carries her over to the time machine. If she is safe, then nothing else matters. ~
(Marron?)
He feels his intruder smile. Gotcha.
~One finger, one beam. Straight down. It happens in slow motion; his ultimate nightmare is replaying itself over and over again before his mind's eye. He tries to open his mouth to scream (to warn her, to deny it) but he doesn't have time to do anything. It just happens, and he is powerless to stop it. That beam. Marron...~

(no no nO NO!)

Hysteria.
(i can't see this. i am not seeing this. not here. i am safe here, nothing nothing nothingnothingnothing can hurt me here …not even those memories the pain can't touch me please leave me alone haven't I done enough by now won't you please have mercy please?)
She responds. I am so sorry, Trunks.
Suddenly, the world stops making sense to him. He doesn't know what to do, what to feel, what to think anymore. His sense of purpose is crumbling. What was he doing again? Why is she hurting him? Don't you realize that evil lives in the skin?
All he can trust now are his instincts. Raw, overpowering, it is all he has. And his instincts are yelling at him to defend himself. She is tearing him apart, and he cannot let her. She has to go away.
I am with you.
(I want you out of here.)
I will not leave.
(Then I will have to kill you.)

***

The Saiya-jin prince opened his eyes slowly and raised his head to the others. He was leaning against a rock, his arms crossed in that signature stance they all knew so well.
"What is it, Vegeta?" Bulma asked. She had been watching his concentration and wondered what he was picking up. Even she was feeling the momentum of spiritual energy that was being utilized by her daughter, but she could not make out any finer points of mental communication. The others all did, and they were listening. She felt alone and scared and very, very helpless. All she could do was hug her little girl while her children were fighting a battle for the sake of the universe.
Vegeta shot her a disturbed, dark look. "We have to prepare," he announced.
"For what?" asked Bulma. She looked around at the others. Her heart caught in her throat when she saw their worried looks. She swallowed. "For what, Vegeta?"
"He's coming over," Vegeta said, waving into Future Trunks' general direction. "He's going to try to kill Bra."

***

~Family dinner at Christmas. The biggest stuffed turkey he has ever seen sits on the candle-lit table. Vegeta is teasing Bulma about her cooking skills, but tonight she takes it in good humor, because she has done a wonderful job on her Christmas cooking, and she knows it. The table looks lovely. When Trunks sits down next to his baby sister and looks out over the beautifully dressed table, at the faces of his family members, he feels all warm inside. He is twelve and he wonders vaguely if this is the true Christmas feeling they always talk about on TV...~

~He is seventeen. He does not know yet that the world will end in a couple of months. He pulls the girl closer and dirty dances with her. The lights are flashing and the beat is booming. It is giving him a headache but the girl is pretty and Goten ran off with her friend earlier tonight and he doesn't care because it feels too good. He feels alive.~

Now that she has been able to pull a trigger memory loose, it feels as if the whole fabric of his memories is falling apart, spilling random memories everywhere. She is trying to make sense of them, but he gave up a long time ago.
He is searching for her physical ki.
(there)
He takes delight in the stabs of panic she is feeling. She is afraid of him. Trunks, please. Don't do this, Trunks. You'll kill us all at this rate. Don't come and find me.
(then leave me alone)
She is so close to him that he does not even have to communicate the thought. She can pluck it out of his mind like a ripe apple.
I can't, she wails.

(determination)
and then:
(confusion)

There is wind whistling in his ears. Where is he going again? There was a sense of determination only a bit ago. He is struggling against something unseen. There are memories, images and dreams filling his vision - he does not know what is real anymore. He is holding on by his fingernails; a shredding feeling, like ripping cloth, fills his mind. What is happening?
(nausea)
(fear)
His body is moving simply on instinct. His mind is (broken) somewhere, still frantically trying to make sense of the images - as if he is dreaming and sleepwalking both.
~ He is Gotenks and pokes fun at Majin Buu, bursting with self-confidence~
~ He is Gotenks and feels Marron speed off in the aircar, covering her back against the Silver Terror // he feels his brother die and hopes that she will find the dragonballs, or either some sensu beans ~
~ He is himself, looking at pictures of a boy with a face that he will have when he grows older. The boy in the picture stands next to a time machine and he has a solemn look in his eyes ~
~ He is himself, and he scratches the word `Hope' into the time machine, overwhelmed with feelings of deja-vu~
~ He is himself, walking with Bulma (not his mother, but the past version - although by now she is his mother too) through the halls of the Aranzan cave ~
~ He is… someone is sparring with Goten on the spaceship ~
~ He is… someone… ~

(someone?)

He holds still. He hovers silently in the air. Far below him is a beach, and people are assembled there… but he doesn't know them (anymore?)
(…)

***

"It is madness to try and take him on," Gohan uttered, looking up at the gleaming silver above them. "He is too strong."
"He's just confused," a soft voice said. They all turned Marron, who had her arms around young Trunks' waist in a possessive gesture. Her eyes were wide and blue.
"He is dangerous," Vegeta pointed out, not taking his eyes from the danger in the sky. "He'll kill you without remorse. I doubt he even recognizes you, from the state he is in right now."
Marron gasped. "Is it that bad?"
Vegeta frowned at his future son, who was still just hovering fifty feet above them. "Yes. I think we need to fight him."
Glances were exchanged. The silence stretched. No one was particularly anxious to fight a loved one, even when that loved one was out of control. Some of them had just returned to the land of the living, and they were not really enthusiastic to leave it again.
Vegeta gave them one look of disdain. "Weaklings," he growled, and took off.
"Vegeta!" Bulma screamed after him, but he did not look back. She buried her face in her daughter's hair and tried to control her fear. She was teetering on the edge of hysteria. Things had gone so well, and now they were all in mortal danger. If this would not work, they would surely all be doomed.

***

Someone is approaching. He lets him come, uncaring what might happen.
The person has dark upswept hair and a regal bearing. He scowls. "So," he begins with a throaty voice that is frosted with anger, "what the hell are you doing here?"
He cannot answer, but he can power up. The feeling of it is wonderful. He wants to smile when the energy is coursing through his veins again, filling him with sweetness.
"You want to fight?" the dark-haired person assumes. He raises his chin arrogantly. "Know that if you even bruise one of mine, I will destroy you. I will not let you get to them, even if you are my blood."
(blood?)
The presence (the intruder) in his mind wails. Trunks, he is your father! You know him! She tugs at a memory, and breaks it loose. It drifts like a soap bubble through his mind.
~ He breaks through an invisible barrier. It is easy, he is strong enough. The golden energy washes through him. It transforms him into something different, yet still the same. He looks at his completely abashed father and laughs in delight. He is a super Saiya-jin, so Vegeta has to take him and Goten to the park now. He promised! ~
He cringes and clutches at his head, trying to banish her and the memories out of his mind again. Of course it doesn't work. I'll kill you, he vows. It is the only way.
Without even looking at the dark-haired person, he loses altitude. He'll land before her, and then he will destroy her. She will be gone, and he can lock up the memories again. All will be well again. No more confusion, no more pain and fear.
So he drops himself, only to be kicked up again. The dark man glares at him and throws a punch, which he blocks. Naturally. "Didn't I tell you to stay away from my family?"

***

"Goku," Piccolo suddenly spoke up. "Can't you teleport us all away from him?"
Goku solemnly shook his head. "What would it help? He would just find her again. It would buy her time, but I don't think she can break through to him right now. It seems like she's only confusing him, making him angrier. He's not accepting his memories."
"Of course he doesn't!" Marron burst out. "They hurt him!"
"They are part of him. He needs to accept them," Goku told her. His voice was gentle and full of worries. "I just don't know how."
Bulma looked up from her daughter, who she knew was listening to the conversation. "But why doesn't he accept the good memories, then?" she wondered. "Think with me, people. Maybe he needs a trigger?"
Trunks, in Marrons arms, stiffened. "I know," he said softly. "I know his trigger."
They all looked at him, but he was just looking at the blond head that was nestled against his chest. "It's you, Marron. Or maybe Goten. But I think it is you."

***

It is disorienting to stay in his mind for too long. Bra works on frantically - sorting through images with a feverish concentration, working on and on, not looking back at the destruction she leaves behind, not daring to look at what she is doing. She might be driving him insane right this instant, but there are different kinds of insanity and she knows that one is more dangerous than the other.
I am so sorry, she sobs, but she just keeps on hurting him.
Trunks is fighting (our) her father. She has to stop him, or someone might end up killed. Bra tries not to think of either of them dying, because it distracts her from her task. The idea alone hurts too much. Why me? she wonders, and that hurts, too. She is lost in a sea of feelings and memories and images and she's not even sure anymore what is his or hers. And how will she ever find her way back to her own mind, out of this silver-tainted madness? This is her brother she's plaguing, not the enemy (but he is!), and she's trying to drive him over the brink of madness. All she has to ensure is that it's his madness, not some silver-induced craziness… not the insanity that comes with godlike powers. Just… human madness. Or saiya-jin, for that matter.
She is just discarding a memory about getting food in the school cantina when a suggestion bubbles up next to her. It feels familiar, so it has to be her own mind. It's her mother's voice. Is her body hearing this right now?
Maybe he needs a trigger?
A trigger. Of course. It's so logical!
And the memories he has reacted most violently on, were…
It's you, Marron.
She holds still in Trunks' mind for a moment, looking around for the most violent memory in his memory, the one that hurt the most. She's been there before. His memories are distorted and incoherent - there's no real sense of a timeline in his mind anymore. But it doesn't matter. She knows how to find that one memory. All that matters now is timing.

***

"Come on then!" Marron yelled impatiently, jumping into the air to join the fighting pair in the sky. Her hair had come loose from the ponytail and was whipping around her head because of the storm that was caused by the ki that was being utilized above them.
"Be careful, Marron," Bulma warned. "It's dangerous up there."
But Marron, fourteen years old and very much a teenager, just raised her chin and said defiantly: "Living is dangerous, too."
"I'll protect you, Marron," Trunks said, following her example. His hair was as storm-blown as hers, and his expression was just as determined. They nodded at each other and took off, Goten following in their wake, calling out: "Hey guys, wait for me!"
Gohan was looking up at the three teens and wondered: "Should we follow? Krillin would kill me if something would happen to her."
Goku just smiled faintly. "That already happened. Let the younger generation handle this, Gohan. This is their battle."
"Like Cell was mine," Gohan understood, not taking his eyes off the battle in the sky. He could not help smiling, either. Somehow he felt peaceful deep inside; all of a sudden there was a feeling that it would be alright in the end. "You have a strange way of raising warriors, father."
"It is the only way," Piccolo agreed. "A warrior needs a battle to prove his strength. If Vegeta would be here, he'd say exactly the same."
"I just hope they'll be alright," Bulma breathed, clearly not as sure about the situation as they were. "I just want us all to go home now and take a long bath and sleep for the next ten years or so. Safely." She squinted against the figures in the dark sky. "And there they are."

***

Another voice.
He looks up from the fight with the dark-haired man to see three others. Two young men and a girl. Their faces are… familiar. The dark-haired boy… he remembers…
(a starry night and lying on his back in the grass, a laugh and a talk…A friendly arm around his shoulders when he feels down…)
No… he remembers…
…the boy with the lavender hair and the blood in his hair…
(a reflection in glass: bloodstains, blue eyes… while he scratches something into blue shiney material… the face is sad… is it his own?)
And he remembers…
The girl.
Blond hair, a grey coat. He looks at her uncertain expression. At her delicate features, her almond-shaped blue eyes (so blue, even with this light), her hair. Her grey coat with the furry cuffs. She spreads her hands. Still uncertain…
Why is he all still inside?
The whirlpool of emotions has stopped. The memories are gone for a second. He just looks at her… he just looks at her… and he…
"Trunks, do you remember me?" she asks.

And he REMEMBERS.
the rain (in his face, cold and wet)
the blood (everywhere, red and cold)
the body (face down and broken)
the love he had just found (obliterated)
the loss (she's gone)
the denial (no, this can't be)
…and most of all…

PAIN.

He is Trunks, son of Vegeta and Bulma, and he has lost everything and he hurts. He has tried to forget, but his memories are a part of him that he can't deny. They ARE him, and if he is pain, all he has to do is end it.
And so he does.
Trunks draws upon all that power that is not really his. He gathers it all in his cupped hands, creating a silver liquid fire that would be brighter than the sun if it had not already set. He will be the sun, he vows. He will burn all the pain and the taint away. He will probably burn himself, as well, but that doesn't matter anymore.
He remembers killing the Silver Terror - he has had his time, he has had his revenge. If he dies, it does not matter. The world and the future will be safe again, for now.
Bra, get out of here, he tells her.
Will you be alright? she asks. She sounds tired and young and very, very afraid.
She is in his mind, so he cannot lie. I am not sure. But I need to do this. Love you, little one. Tell the others I love them, too. Now get out.
Please be okay, she sobs. The next instant she is gone from his mind. It creates one nauseating moment of loneliness, but he ignores it and focuses on the energy, instead.
The ball grows larger and larger, until he cannot hold it anymore.
"Leave, now!" he screams at Vegeta, young Trunks, Marron and Goten, twisting his wrists until his hands point at his own stomach. The Silver Armor gleams and reflects the kiball that is pressed against it. The energy of it will burn him to a crisp, and it will vaporize the armor like it vaporized the Silver Terror. Maybe he will survive, maybe he won't, but at least he will die without that armor around him. He will die like himself, and that is good.

So he lets go.
~~~***~~~***~~~

This is our time, we can't rewind
Our place to shine out, we can live it anyway
This is our time, to feel sublime
Our place to shine now, and we can do it anyway
We can't rewind
~ Feeder, "We can't rewind"


This is our time

He was sitting on the balcony, smoking one of Bulma's cigarettes. Twilight was falling over Capsule Corporation, and with it came the silence. It was not an oppressive silence. Trunks loved this time of the day; lately he had even been making sure he'd be on the balcony around this time. He indulged in the serenity of this warm evening in early summer; his feet were dangling in the air, and he was contemplating the color of the glowing ember of his cigarette and the color of sunset. It's the same, he thought with quiet wonder. He smiled vaguely and looked at the horizon, his mind far, far away.
He was distantly aware from Bra's peals of laughter from around the corner, in the garden, where she was sitting with Pan, and the buzzing of the gravity chamber where his father was training. Capsule Corporation was rarely completely quiet, but tonight it was calm.
"There you are!" a female voice squealed.
Trunks turned around to smile at Marron. She had her hair loose and her cheeks were flushed with mirth. She looked lovely and young tonight. "Hey, Marron. What's up?"
"I was wondering if you wanted to sit with us. Goten and Trunks dug up the barbecue and they wanted to roast some meat." She rolled her eyes. "We only ate three hours ago!"
"Well, weren't they sparring? I don't blame them for being hungry," he told her.
She flashed a grin at him. "Anyway, you wanna come? There's enough for you, too. Otherwise theywill eat it all, and I don't want a fat boyfriend."
Trunks could not help grinning back at her. Her smile had always been infectious. "I don't think he'll get fat that quickly. You are forgetting the superior Saiya-jin digestion system."
"Of course!" she slapped her forehead in mock distress. "How could I forget?"
"My superior digestion system would like some steaks too, I think," he mused. "Or maybe some spare ribs. Do you have spare ribs?"
"Certainly. So, are you coming?"
"Of course." Trunks put his arm around his friend and left the balcony with her, joking all the way through the complex, enjoying the moment. In another time, the girl he was walking with would have been dead for two months. In this new reality, she was his best friend, and dating the boy she was destined to love. He looked at her twinkling eyes and decided that this new reality wasn't so bad after all. He could not erase the things that had happened in the past, and he did not know what would happen in the future, but that did not matter. Even if time would twist itself around and tried to re-create its old pattern, until then, they still had the present.
This was their time.


~ fin ~






~ Lanfir Leah
September 2003.