Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Timelines Collide ❯ Like A Dream ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball. Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Dragon Ball GT and all of their characters belong to Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation.

 

Chapter 3: Like A Dream

 

“See? You can't hurt me, I'm very strong,” little Trunks said to his older self.

“You're right. You seem to be much stronger than me.”

“Because I'm a super Saiyajin!” he said proudly.

“You are?” he asked, knowing the boy was just pretending.

“Yes, now don't move.”

Trunks laughed and raised his hands, as in surrender. “But then it would be too eas--”

“I'm going to destroy you, Kakarot!” little Trunks shouted.

“Kakarot?”

Trunks ran with his plastic sword and hit his other self across the torso. Then he put his hands on his waist and raised his head, triumphantly.

“Ow! You hit me,” future Trunks said, playfully. He threw his sword to the floor and put his hands on his stomach. “You are so strong,” he said falling to his knees.

 

They heard the door open and waited until they could see who was behind it.

Present Bulma observed the boys in front of her. Little Trunks had a sword in his hand and was standing next to an apparently dead future Trunks.

 

“Are you guys alright?” she asked.

“I killed Trunks,” the boy said happily.

“You what?!”

Future Trunks was lying on the floor, but his eyes were open. He shook his head to let her know everything was fine. “Not really,” he said.

“You can't talk. You died,” little Trunks told him.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Hmph... well, try not to really kill each other, Ok?”

“Ok,” the baby said.

“Mommy's gonna make dinner, Trunks. What would you like to eat?”

“Cookies!”

She laughed a little. “But for dinner.”

“Cookies,” he insisted. Bulma sighed.

“Well, how about escalopes?”

“With fries?”

“Why not?”

“Yay!”

“I'll come back later and tell you when it's done, then,” she said before grabbing the knob to close the door.

“I love you, mommy.”

Oh, how he always managed to make her smile. “...I love you too, Trunks.” She looked at Trunks on the floor again and nodded to him. “Both of you.”

When she closed the door, little Trunks felt he had to make some things clear with his future counterpart, despite still being oblivious to who he really was. “But she loves me more.”

 

--

 

Bulma looked at her right, smiling. The short, old man was looking for a specific item in the toolbox, not knowing if it was even there. He tended to forget where things were and never left his laboratory without making a mess out of it. Luckily she didn't take much after him when it was about that sort of things, for only her room used to be as untidy.

 

“What are you looking for, exactly?”

“Uhm… well, have you seen a soldering iron around here?”

“You mean that one on the shelf up there?” she asked, pointing with her finger at a little object a meter above their heads.

“Oh, yes. That is it.” He put a chair below the shelf to get to grab the tool, but Bulma stopped him before he could climb up it.

“Allow me,” she said politely, already with a hand on the back of the metal chair. He stepped back, and she quickly got a hold of the item to be back with her feet on the floor and hand it to her father.

“Thank you.”

“You should pay more attention to where you leave your things,” she said smiling.

“Yeah, well… I guess you're right,” he laughed scratching his head. “You still haven't told me how you know so much about this. I mean, I thought my daughter was the only one who could help me solve these codes,” he said, indicating with his head towards the computer.

“Well, I'm a scientist too.”

“Really?”

“Bulma! Darling!” Mrs. Briefs interrupted them. “Bulma said dinner will be ready in a matter of minutes, so make sure to be there when it's served,” she said, grinning widely.

“Oh, thank you, dear,” Dr. Briefs said. “Well, I guess that's it for now. Thanks for your help,” he said to Bulma.

“It was nothing.”

 

--

 

Future Bulma was back in the main part of the house when she crossed ways with Trunks.

 

“Oh, mom, I've just taken your things to your room.”

“Thanks, hon. Uhm... which one is it?”

“The one to the left of mom's...” he paused for a second. “Uh, I mean Bulma...”

“What? Next to Bulma and Vegeta's room?”

Trunks shrugged his shoulders. He definitely didn't see the problem. “And I'll be to the left of yours, so you'll be in the middle...” He noticed his mother was not paying attention to him. “Mom?”

“Yeah... Ok,” she nodded.

“Well, do you know where grandma and grandpa are? I haven't seen them yet.”

“I think they went to the dining room.”

“Oh, see you there, then,” he said before starting to walk out of her sight, but then he turned around. “By the way, the time machine is in my bedside table.”

“Alright,” she responded, but he wasn't there anymore.

 

Bulma stepped forward to enter her new temporary bedroom, the one used to keep her clothes that were out of season in her timeline. The cream pink curtains were covering the open window through which the main garden could be seen. Her suitcase lay on her white sheeted bed. A single bed. Like the one she was so used to using ever since she learned to walk. Even when living with Yamcha for so many years and then later Vegeta, she never got herself to buy a double one. Probably the fact that she lived with her parents was part of the cause, for it would be proof of her nonexistent innocence in a house where she was still treated as a teenager. But she soon grew up, became an adult, and finally got pregnant. And nobody could be oblivious to her lack of virginity anymore. Though maybe they always knew, since she brought the desert bandit home at the age of sixteen. But still, despite welcoming a second person many times through the years, being it a sweet boyfriend or a heated lover, her bed always remained the same. As if she was destined to wake up to her sole presence every passing day.

 

A square painting on the floor called her attention. It seemed like it had been hanging on the wall but somehow managed to fall down. She picked it up and recognized the picture of West City she had drawn a week before abandoning high school. The background was a mixture of reds, oranges and yellows. A beautiful dawn. She liked to think she was able to observe the beauty of the sky while everyone else was still asleep.

She placed the painting back on the wall and decided to join the others in the dining room, as her stomach reminded her she hadn't eaten a thing since lunch. Her glance wandered round the room one last time before leaving it, but a second later she froze in place.

 

She instinctively knew what that lock sound was. She was very aware of the distance between her bedroom and the gravity room, and she had no doubt someone had just stepped out of it. But as much as she wanted, she didn't have the nerve to turn around and face the person behind her. She just couldn't.

She felt her body started to shake and her breathing came to a stop when she heard firm footsteps approaching her. Then she thought her legs would fail to keep her standing the moment a deep voice talked to her.

 

“Did you cut your hair again?”

 

But they didn't. Instead she had to hold a chuckle provoked from the irony of the first words she heard from Vegeta after over twenty years. Not a hello, not a how have you been, not an I missed you. But something about her change of look.

Of course, this wasn't her Vegeta, and he confused her with someone else.

 

“I think it's--”

“Oh, I see you two already met,” present Bulma showed up in the aisle, interrupting him.

Vegeta looked at her surprised. There was the same Bulma he'd seen hours ago, with her hair barely covering her shoulders. But then who was this woman?

 

Future Bulma finally gained the strength to turn around, only to run into the almighty prince of the Saiyajins. He was looking at her, and he'd just talked to her as if he did it usually. He was handsome and brawny, just as she remembered him. And that hair she liked so much... Gosh was he sexy. But despite the many similarities there was something very different from the Vegeta she knew. He was alive.

How long had she waited for this moment? Before the travel to the past she had thought she would only see him in her dreams for the rest of her days. She knew she wouldn't see him in the Other World. Vegeta was in Hell. Of that she was sure. She sometimes liked to pretend he was in a better place, but she couldn't lie to herself.

This felt like one of her dreams, indeed. One of those where they meet after a long time, and it suddenly feels like they'd never been apart. One of those where her body is numb due to his overwhelming presence. And one of those that even after waking up felt very much real.

 

Vegeta looked at future Bulma once more, then back at the younger one. If he didn't know better he'd swear the other lady was Bulma's clone, only a little older.

 

“Please, tell me this is your biological mother. I'll be so glad to do this planet a favor by making that dumb woman disappear.” Bulma's jaw fell open.

“What nerve, Vegeta!” she said angrily. “How dare you say that about my mother?”

“Then who is she?” he asked, ignoring her reply.

Bulma smirked, forgetting about the insult. “She's none other than myself,” she said with her head held high. “My self from the future.”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at the news and observed the woman next to him. “Two Bulmas in the same place? ...Hmph, this can't be good,” he said, before turning his back on the older Bulma. He walked towards present Bulma, but stopped in mid distance to open an other door.

“What are you doing? Dinner's ready.”

“I'll take a shower.”

“Ok, but make it quick. We're eating with my parents, and we also have guests.”

He made a double take before asking, “Guests?”

“Trunks is here too.” He looked at future Bulma again. She was the woman who raised his son from the future, he figured. It was obvious he would be there too.

His attention went back to Bulma. “...Do I have to eat with your parents?”

“Unless you don't want to eat. But I bet you're hungry,” she grinned.

He growled. “Fine,” he said while closing the bathroom door behind him so he could no longer be seen.

 

Bulma neared her other counterpart with an air of satisfaction. Vegeta was so easily convinced! However, her grin soon faded when she saw the expression on the woman's face, who hadn't uttered a single word yet. She was pale, her body still and her eyes distant.

 

“Hey...!” she softly shook her once by the shoulder. “Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost, or something...”

Future Bulma went back to her senses, bothered by the girl who was trying to help. “I'm fine!” she said in annoyance, waving her away.

Bulma was surprised at her reaction, but she didn't have the time to respond since the other woman had already left the aisle. “Oh... how come I didn't realize?” Her future self had just had her first encounter with Vegeta after who knew how much, of course it was shocking for her.

 

--

 

“So, where did you say you're from?” Mrs. Briefs asked Bulma.

“We're from a very far off place...” She couldn't say they were from West City, it would be risky if her parents asked her where exactly she lived. But she couldn't say they were from a different timeline either, since Trunks and her had already agreed to hide their identities, at least from Dr. and Mrs. Briefs. “It's a big city, full of large buildings and important companies.”

“Oh, really? What region is that?” Dr. Briefs asked.

Think quick, she said to herself. Just a five digit number would do. But what if she came up with one they already knew?

“Father!” The older Trunks said excitedly.

“Oh, Vegeta, we were waiting for you,” Mrs. Briefs told him.

Bulma sighed in relief. Saved by the bell, or more specifically, saved by Vegeta, she thought.

 

Vegeta had just entered the dining room and observed the table before him. Bulma and her father on each extreme, future Bulma and Trunks on one side, Mrs. Briefs and little Trunks on the other. And a chair between them.

He glared at Bulma, who was smiling evilly at him. He knew this was for his previous insult to Mrs. Briefs. They were even.

 

Baby Trunks was sitting on a pile of pillows to reach his plate, which had little pieces of food already cut for him to eat. He was happily pointing towards the chair next to him, indicating his father where to sit. Vegeta sat down and grabbed his fork and knife, followed by everyone else as they started their meal.

 

“Hello, father,” future Trunks repeated.

“Trunks...” was all Vegeta said to greet him. At least the boy deserved his welcome, he would not ignore him.

 

Future Bulma looked at Vegeta. He looked brusque, yet so cute when he ate. She was still a bit shocked, but oh so glad. He was right in front of her, moving, breathing, being himself. For a moment she thought everything was in slow motion, as memories of her very past started to play in her head. But her daydream was abruptly stopped when her counterpart spoke to her.

 

“Uh, you know... you two arrived just in time.”

“In time for what?” she asked.

“Trunks' birthday party, of course,” Mrs. Briefs told her.

“Oh, so you're doing a party? It's going to be my son's birthday too. It would be fun to celebrate both at the same time.”

“Wait. Are you saying you are exactly twenty years older? Not a day of difference?” Bulma asked.

“That's right.”

“Then you are fifty five, right?”

“That's a lot!” little Trunks said.

“Trunks, be good and keep quiet, will you?” Bulma asked him, getting a single nod from him. “You actually don't look your age...” she said to future Bulma. “I'd say you're ten years younger at least.”

“Oh, you're so kind,” she smiled.

“Have you already chosen your rooms?” Mrs. Briefs asked.

“I'll be in the middle...” future Bulma said lowly. “Between Trunks' room and Bulma's...”

“What?” Dr. Briefs asked astonished. “Bulma, there's a reason your mother and I sleep in the other extreme of the house,” he said, a little ashamed.

“And that is?” present Bulma asked.

“The lovely nightfall, of course,” Mrs. Briefs answered. “I'm sure they'd love to see it through their windows.” Whether she was trying to avoid the topic of conversation or just assuming that was what her husband meant, they were not sure.

“I don't think it's that important, mom...” present Bulma said. “Trunks, tell me what you've been doing all these months,” she said changing the subject.

“I play with toys,” little Trunks replied, earning a short laugh from everyone except Vegeta.

“Not you, hon.”

“Oh...”

“I've been catching up on studies,” future Trunks said. “You know, I've never actually finished high school.”

“How interesting. You must be very smart. I mean, you're the son of a genius after all,” she winked at him.

Trunks blushed a little. “Yeah, well...”

“He will take charge of the company in the future,” the other Bulma commented.

“Really? That's great!”

“He proved to be very mature, and responsible as well,” she said proudly.

“Oh, that's fantastic. I hope our little one turns out to be just like you, Trunks. Wait... I'm sure he will,” she laughed. “And how about fun? Do you go out with friends?”

“Yes, sometimes.”

“And do you have a girlfriend?” Trunks looked like he didn't know where to hide his face, it was moments like these when he felt embarrassed.

“You know, actually...” future Bulma began to say. “He doesn't want to tell. I think he does have someone, but he's just so shy about it.”

“But Trunks, you're not even a teenager anymore. It's alright to have a girl, and I'd be so happy if you did. I mean, your mother would...”

“Well, I...”

“How old are you?” she interrupted him. “Twenty two?”

“I'm almost twenty four.”

“That's a lot too,” little Trunks said, but he was mostly ignored.

“Really...? I thought you were twenty years older than Trunks.”

“But I spent two days in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, remember?”

“Oh, right. That means Vegeta is two years older too. How could I forget that?” Trunks rolled his eyes. Vegeta just took a mouthful of fries. “Anyway, I was saying... do you have any idea what I was doing at your age?” Her parents looked at her, afraid that she may say something inappropriate. Future Bulma looked at her, and even Vegeta did. Little Trunks just kept trying to put his fork into his mouth.

“Uh... I don't think I want to know,” Trunks said, his face totally red.

Bulma saw the faces of her parents, then future Bulma's. “No, you don't. But you get the point,” she said, shifting in her chair.

 

She felt awkward. Sometimes she spoke before thinking, but it would have been so wrong to talk about her personal, very personal life in front of her parents and her son. Both of them. And Vegeta just didn't need to hear it, he could easily guess.

 

The rest of the dinner was mostly quiet. Often, Dr. Briefs and his wife would comment on the latest news or gossip about their neighbours, and baby Trunks would make funny noises when eating his food, as if his fork was some kind of airplane. But the rest of the people remained silent.

Future Bulma couldn't help but keep laying eyes on Vegeta whenever she thought he wouldn't notice, but he always did. He hadn't thought about the situation before, but then he realized she must feel pretty much as Trunks did when he first met him; happy to see him, either because it was the first time in years or the first time ever.

He was curious about how Bulma had done without him. Was he easily forgotten or was he still in her mind? He shouldn't really care, he thought. But still he wanted to know. And he would have enough time to figure it out, just not today.

 

--

 

Later that night, Vegeta went back to his training, as he always did after dinner. Bulma put baby Trunks to bed and said goodnight to her parents and guests. Future Trunks fell quickly asleep and, contrary to him, his mother was having problems to fall into slumber.

 

What a day! She traveled through time and met her parents, who had died long ago. She met baby Trunks, and how she missed the little innocent boy, so different from her adult son. She met herself, young and beautiful, as she always said she was. It felt as if she was looking at a mirror, though a mirror that had frozen with her image years ago. And she met Vegeta.

Whoever said dreams didn't come true must have never dreamt in their life. She wondered if she would dream about him tonight, if she would be able to tell him that she was so happy to see him again, even if it was his alternate version, who had survived the androids' attacks and was yet much stronger. She closed her eyes and waited for him to appear in her dreams. But little did she know that the noises and moans from the room next door wouldn't let her sleep at all.