(no subject)
C E L L
Breathing was beginning to be a chore.
His lungs rasped harsh coarse sounds. His skin was feeling as frail as if this were his birth instead of death. Maybe in a way it was, he could never tell.
He coughed and the shivers of pain danced across his nerves like some disease. Far far away he could hear Cell laughing in delight and mockery.
(-)
"Maybe happiness is a disease?"
"Trunks!" She scoffed, somewhat ashamed of him for thinking such things. For lacking hope. "How dare you?"
"No Mother, not that. I mean ... maybe it's an infection."
She watched him with thin eyes. Her expression didn't change.
"I didn't say it's like a disease. All I'm saying is that maybe Happiness is ... a part of reality we're supposed to reach for? Like it's ..."
Her mouth relaxed at her son's words. She almost didn't think he had such an ability in him. To remind her of Goku. "Diseases are a part of reality", she finished for him "and that is something we just have to live with."
(-)
As odd as it was, he could feel sticky liquid on his stomach, dripping slowly down his side. The urge to scratch at it was infuriating. His breath caught again and another ragged cough shook him from head to toe.
Even after it finished, his head still spun with the painful movements. But he could still see, if blurry jumpy objects is considered vision.
His mouth tried croaking the word, calling out. He tilted his head as best as was able and squinted his eyes at the dusty breeze blowing from his father and his murderer, that green unnatural being.
He couldn't even glare at Cell, the pain drawing his eyes to the short thick man watching him. Father. The words stuck against his throat and choked him so he coughed instead. I'm sorry.
He couldn't feel Yamcha and Tien holding his side, trying desperately to bandage his wound, to protect what there was left of him to protect, but he knew they were there.
He gave them the best apologetic smile he could and wasn't able to see the responses before his eyes finally gave way and his mind admitted defeat to the wound.
His heart forgot to beat and he blacked out painfully just as the dust and something stranger started to kick up.
(-)
"I don't need some stupid people from the past to help me!" The door slammed against it's hinges and bounced back, refusing to click into the lock.
The young boy huffed in frustration and walked back to the door, gently and with fierce determination set it into place.
Bulma waved a wrench at him from her project, reprimanding him. "You need more help than you think!"
He glared at her and huffed again, his anger leaving him too steamed for words so he stomped out of the room, purposely stepping on the floor as loudly as he could.
He had been heading to his room, but ended up passing the infirmary. He paused at the doorway, not sure what he was lingering for.
Having already vented his rage into nice line of footprints set firmly in the floor, he stepped softly into the room. His hand ended up trailing softly across the machine he had woken up staring at those few years ago.
His first transformation. Privately, he didn't think being a Super Sayian was all it was cut out to be.
It wasn't worth the cost.
(-)
A voice boomed across his senses, "Now serving Number 89,671!" and seemed to wake him up from a sleep, though he couldn't remember sleeping.
He blinked in confusion as someone tapped his back.
"Hey Buddy! The line's moving!"
He turned around slowly, blowing his thin unnatural Sayian purple hair out of his eyes to stare at the person behind him.
Very intelligently, he replied "What?"
And old man, too old to be simply a father rolled his eyes and gestured to the long stream of people stretched out before them. Various features stood out from the widely diverse humanoid figures.
He knew without being told that they all were victims of Cell and those Androids.
He turned back to the man behind him, first moving forward the few steps keep the guy happy. Clearing his throat he spoke evenly. "You're going to be wished back."
The man blinked in bewildered surprise. Not knowing what to say to such a statement he pointed to the newly formed gap between Trunks and the young woman in front of him.
Trunks moved the one step forward, glancing in curiosity around him. He was standing in line, of course, on a long sturdy platform that seemed to be raised above clouds he couldn't see a purpose for.
(-)
"I swear you are getting more like your father each day." She sighed tiredly at her son and moved back to the sink to grab the newly clean silverware.
From the doorway, wiping at the stubborn sweat across his forehead he muttered a 'What's that supposed to mean?' as she opened a drawer and placed the utensils inside. Stopping to drape the towel across the rings of sweat cooling his neck he watched as she moved slowly to the sink again, this time reaching for the cups from breakfast.
"Training all day, non-stop, week by week. You know he was just like that too, so relentless. Determined."
Stopping in mid-thought he asked startled, "He was?"
She nodded and pulled the towel the dishes had dried on off the counter, throwing it over the same shoulder as the one she had dried them by hand with rested.
She looked up at him, studying his features for what felt like the first time. And after the longest pause, she said, "You have his eyes."
The silence roared with an emptiness as he tried to process what this meant. He blinked several times before motioning to the now empty sink, "Got distracted eh? It's about dinner time."
Bulma scoffed, a one breath laugh and walked to the laundry room. "I could say the same for you."
(-)
Just as he was beginning to get fairly bored, a voice caught his ears. It sounded oddly familiar, but called hesitantly his name.
Tilting his head and leaning to his side away from the long blockade of bodies he saw a small speck of orange that he know knew by heart.
"Gohan?!" He started running full speed across the line towards the figure, completely forgetting about ki travel and the speed of Super Sayian.
And as his sprinting brought him close to the halfway point, the now larger orange shape blinked out of existence, leaving only an empty spot where he had been standing and the many startled and angry faces glaring at his back for cutting in line.
His feet screeched to a halt so abruptly, that his shoes felt the impact and marked their disapproval in streaks acrss the floor. He blinked dry eyes at the unbroken stream of backs before him, not one speck of orange flashing out at him.
He just felt like crying and sniffed loudly to stall the action, though he couldn't say exactly why. He suddenly felt more alone than he had in years and glanced at the patient and not so patient souls waiting to be judged.
Letting out a sigh that was more emotions than rejected air, he hung his head and began slowly sulking back to his position in line, almost a mile of dragged steps and unamused faces awaiting him.
Unwanted, the last memory of Gohan started to replay itself again in his mind.
(-)
He couldn't remember being so cold in a long time. The rain kept getting in his eyes and making it twice as hard to see as his tears already were.
He flew high above the pavement dust glancing frantically at every broken corner of concrete and each thick shadow. More than once he had felt like sneezing even with the water dampening the effect. But closing his eyes could mean a glimpse of Gohan that might be his Sensei's last chance at--
(-)
"Trunks!"
"AHHHHH!" Giving a short scream as the only warning Trunks jumped backwards in full shock and surprise, plunging oh so daintily off the platform and through the clouds below.
Once he broke past the barrier, he understood the clouds' purpose. The entire gruesome span of Hell lay stretched out before him.
He was suddenly jerked upwards, stopped in midst of his unplanned free fall. He blinked in surprise at the gentle face grinning behind him.
"I thought you knew how to fly?" Goku's whole face light up with his smile, his eyes alight with joy.
Trunks didn't have the comprehension to respond, trying to find the words to ask what the man was doing here and not back on Earth kicking Cell's numerous asses?
Goku grinned wider, if it was possible, and flew Trunks up through the clouds and high over the long crowd of people. "There's some people waiting to see, you know? What are doing standing out here anyways? You'd have been there all day!"
Trunks blinked again, flying of his own power now and answered. "I um... died."
Goku laughed and went into Super Sayian mode, calling out behind him. "We'd better hurry up! They're already gathering the Dragonballs as we speak and I'm sure you'll want all the time you can get."
Trunks merely followed Son's example and transformed, his speed increasing fanatically. Below them the thousands of waiting souls merged into a watery river that stretched on for many the mile.
(-)
She was crying again, but good tears this time. Even though she had explained it to him, he just couldn't grasp the meaning and tried reaching out to comfort her again.
She waved his hand away and blew her nose again in her shirt sleeve. "Oh Trunks ... do us proud."
She smiled despite the tears and wrapped her arms around him in a warm hug. He held her in return, warily avoiding the now soggy sleeve.
She sniffled another stream of tears as he pat her back and said "I love you."
His face lit up with a warmth she couldn't see nestled against his neck and repeated the phrase honestly back to her.
"Mother ... it'll be alright. I'm just going to be gone for a few hours at most. All I have to do is warn them and give Goku the medicine, right?"
She smiled against the smell from her son and held him tighter, still not quite trusting that the time machine would bring her only son home to her again.
"Just," she paused the breathe in the scent of the little boy she used to have to chase down the corridors " ... just be safe. For me?"
He pulled away from her and held her at arms length, letting her see the happy excited smile he wore. "I'll be fine. I'll be back."
She nodded and stepped away from him, waving as he turned away from her. His hand trailed across the one word message scribbled over marvelous invention, fingertips lingering on the looped vowels of 'Hope' before jumping inside the machine.
She was still waving as the lid shut and sat for hours in that one spot, waiting.
(-)
Gohan patted Trunks' back again, laughing in his grin at the young man still hugging in joy. He could almost swear Trunks was crying. But every few moments the boys bright face glanced up at him, too much happiness for words.
Goku watched them a few feet away before finally saying to Gohan, "I'll leave you two alone" and once again disappearing in the blink of an eye.
Gohan finally laughed verbally, and quite loudly at that, while Trunks just hugged him harder in embarrassment.
"I missed you" he whispered to the man he felt he still seemed to owe an apology, digging his face into his chest.
Gohan nodded patted his back, waiting until he was ready. He hugged the boy who was the closest thing to a son he ever had and let Trunks have his time. They both knew there wouldn't be another encounter like this for many more years.
a hundred year old photograph stares out from a frame
and if you look real close you'll see, our eyes are just the same