[Disclaimer—I don't own DB/Z/GT, although I'm sure if you want to sue me,
this disclaimer won't make a bit of difference, ne?
A/N—This is going to be a Romance/Humor story, but right now it is definitely ANGST. I need to establish the differences between the characters of the Mirai timeline and the regular DBZ one, and the horrible lives the Mirai's have lived is how I will do this. Don't let this dishearten you. I'm a sap for a happy ending, no matter how much I torture them in the meantime. Again, this will be a Romance/Humor fic with a dash of Angst and Drama!]
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Prologue
***Mirai Timeline***
It was raining. The man crouched in the street did not care.
*How did it all fall apart so quickly,* Trunks wondered to himself in despair.
____________________
When he had defeated the androids a year ago, and then Cell shortly thereafter, Trunks had thought that everything was right with the world. Peace had finally returned, and the people were safe once again, after almost twenty years of terror.
It had been surprising how many humans were still alive. When the shadows had finally cleared, and the news had spread that the androids were, in fact, gone, the remaining world population was almost ten times larger than had been previously estimated. Humans were industrious beings, and with everyone doing their fair share, it was incredible how quickly things had been rebuilt.
Much of that speed and efficiency had been due to his own mother, Trunks reflected bitterly. With the help of her inventions, debris had been cleared, and buildings had been erected in record time. In fact, the opening ceremony for one of those buildings had been the beginning of Trunks' new nightmare.
He'd been tired. As his mother's chosen representative, and the man who had saved the world from the androids, Trunks had been mobbed from the moment he'd stepped out the door until the moment he'd stepped back in.
Entering the house, he had known something was wrong. It was too quiet. His mother always left the radio on, or something, anything, to chase away the quiet. During the time that Trunks had been gone, away in the future, she had learned to loath the silence.
Immediately wary, Trunks had headed upstairs. There was a strange 'ki' in his mother's bedroom. Opening the door, Trunks had been greeted by a sight that would change his life forever.
Rifling around in a dresser drawer was a large man with a scar running down one cheek and an ugly scowl twisting his face. In one hand he held a wad of cash and a locket that Trunks had given his mother years ago for her birthday. In the other, he held a gun.
Trunks had barely spared a second glance for the man though, because on the floor, in a crimson pool lay his mother, her aqua hair soaked in the spreading liquid, making it appear almost brown. She was quite obviously dead.
____________________
Trunks pushed his sopping hair back out of his face, glad that the rain concealed the tears that were running down his face. That had been the beginning. And the end.
When he had seen his mother lying there in a pool of her own blood, he had gone ballistic. With the surge of rage that flowed through his veins, he had ascended to Super Saiyan 2 and blasted the intruder into dust. His rage had been uncontrollable. Explosive. It had evaporated Capsule Corp. and had cremated his mother's body.
The sheer energy he had been giving off had also severely injured dozens of the spectators who had crowded around the Capsule Corp. gates morning, noon, and night since he had defeated the androids. It had not been pretty.
When Trunks' surge of grief-stricken anger had finally subsided, he had been shocked to find himself in the midst of what looked like a war-zone.
Everyone had understood, at first, when he explained about how he had found his mother, but something had changed that day. He wasn't Bulma Brief's son, the young man who had saved the world, anymore. He was the man who had killed the androids, beings who had terrorized the earth for nigh upon twenty years. He had done it with ease. He wasn't a hero anymore. He was a threat.
Since that day eight months ago, Trunks had been on the run. It had started slowly, with people shying away from him in public. Women hiding their children when he walked by. It wasn't until the day that the new government had declared him public enemy #1, a threat that had to be dealt with, that Trunks had truly gotten the message.
Trunks didn't run out of fear for himself. He ran out of fear for them. There was nothing any of them could do to hurt him, even if they hadn't seemed to grasp that. He ran because he didn't want to have to kill them. He wasn't a murderer. HE WASN'T!
Trunks bowed his head, a small bead forming and dripping from the end of his nose. He weighed his sword carefully in his hands. He couldn't take it anymore. They would never let him live a normal life, and even if they did, he didn't know if he even knew what normal was anymore, if he ever had.
Taking the sword in both hands, Trunks watched the rain run shimmering down the length of the blade, and tried to consider which way would be best. The humans might not be able to kill him, but he could certainly kill himself.
As distracted as he was, Trunks never noticed the approaching 'ki'. He never noticed the soft footsteps that came up behind him, as he lay the edge of the sword against his neck. When a quiet voice spoke from behind him, he jumped and whirled around, almost decapitating himself and the speaker in the process.
"It won't help you know."
Trunks studied the girl in front of him. She looked to be about four years younger than him. Maybe sixteen. She had long dark hair and sad eyes that looked vaguely familiar.
"How would you know," Trunks snapped, his nerves shot to hell. How dare she!
Silently the girl held her wrists out for him to inspect. Each had a thin scar running across it, still red, but fading to white at the edges.
Trunks looked up at the girl's sad eyes. "Who are you?" he whispered.
"My name's Pan," she replied.
________________
Walking through the rain, his sword now sheathed, Trunks addressed Pan. "So, Pan, huh? No last name?"
Pan smiled humorlessly. "No. My mother never told me my father's name. She just told me she loved him very much and they had planned to marry before they were separated." Pan's eyes hardened a bit, and she went on, "A lovely story, although I'm sure it's just a story. She died when I was ten years old, and since then I've seen enough to puzzle out my true origins."
Trunks looked at the girl questioningly, "What do you mean?"
Pan glared at Trunks. Did he want her to say it? Fine. "How many fourteen-year-old girls do you know that are in love and getting married Trunks? That's how old she was when she had me. My mom was beautiful, and strong, and intelligent, and she thought up a lovely lie so I wouldn't feel guilty for being a bastard product of rape."
Trunks' eyes widened a bit, although he knew she was probably right. "Are you certain?"
Pan snorted bitterly. "She loved him that much and she never once told me his name? Come on, Trunks! Besides," she said glaring at the scars on her wrists for a moment before crossing her arms tightly over her chest, "It doesn't matter HOW strong you are. They get you eventually in the end."
Trunks paused for a moment, uncertain of what to say. Why was she trusting him with this? The fact that she was a product of rape. That she had obviously been raped herself, thus explaining her suicide attempt. They had only met a little over an hour ago, but it felt like they had known each other for years.
Trunks could sense it too, Pan knew. Why did she feel so easy with him? Was it because he knew her despair? That couldn't be it. Pan had known countless people who had either attempted or committed suicide. There was just something about him.
Stopping, Pan turned to face Trunks. "I-I'm sorry about your mother," she said hesitantly.
Trunks froze for a moment. She knew who he was, and she wasn't running! Was this some kind of a trap, he thought suspicious, for a moment. But no. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew this was no trap. Jerkily he nodded, then said, "I'm sorry about your mother too."
Pan nodded. She understood. They both turned and continued walking, ignoring the pouring rain that soaked them to the bone.
***Normal Timeline***
Pan sat sighing in Bra's window. Ever since her sixteenth birthday a month ago, Trunks had been taking out what seemed to be a new girl almost every night.
Pan reflected back on the party. She had been dancing with Trunks, and he had spun her around, smiling and laughing. He was such a goofball sometimes! Then there had come a slow song, and their eyes had met. For a confused moment, Pan had thought he was going to kiss her, but he had jerked away, leaving her alone there embarrassed and confused. And in love.
*I love Trunks. My best guy friend. A man fourteen years older than me,* Pan thought sadly to herself, watching him walk down the driveway towards his car, a giggling brunette clamped onto his arm.
Pan turned away from the window to see Bra staring at her knowingly. *Darn her, she knows too much,* Pan thought grabbing a pillow and chucking it at the smirking Bra. An all-out pillow war ensued and continued until Vegeta roared at them to knock it off from the bedroom down the hall.
Still giggling, the two girls hopped into bed and pulled the blankets over their shoulders. As Pan slowly drifted off to sleep, she reflected wryly that pillow fights were really no substitute for Trunks.
***Let me know how I did! Please R&R…pretty please??!***
A/N—This is going to be a Romance/Humor story, but right now it is definitely ANGST. I need to establish the differences between the characters of the Mirai timeline and the regular DBZ one, and the horrible lives the Mirai's have lived is how I will do this. Don't let this dishearten you. I'm a sap for a happy ending, no matter how much I torture them in the meantime. Again, this will be a Romance/Humor fic with a dash of Angst and Drama!]
_____________________
Prologue
***Mirai Timeline***
It was raining. The man crouched in the street did not care.
*How did it all fall apart so quickly,* Trunks wondered to himself in despair.
____________________
When he had defeated the androids a year ago, and then Cell shortly thereafter, Trunks had thought that everything was right with the world. Peace had finally returned, and the people were safe once again, after almost twenty years of terror.
It had been surprising how many humans were still alive. When the shadows had finally cleared, and the news had spread that the androids were, in fact, gone, the remaining world population was almost ten times larger than had been previously estimated. Humans were industrious beings, and with everyone doing their fair share, it was incredible how quickly things had been rebuilt.
Much of that speed and efficiency had been due to his own mother, Trunks reflected bitterly. With the help of her inventions, debris had been cleared, and buildings had been erected in record time. In fact, the opening ceremony for one of those buildings had been the beginning of Trunks' new nightmare.
He'd been tired. As his mother's chosen representative, and the man who had saved the world from the androids, Trunks had been mobbed from the moment he'd stepped out the door until the moment he'd stepped back in.
Entering the house, he had known something was wrong. It was too quiet. His mother always left the radio on, or something, anything, to chase away the quiet. During the time that Trunks had been gone, away in the future, she had learned to loath the silence.
Immediately wary, Trunks had headed upstairs. There was a strange 'ki' in his mother's bedroom. Opening the door, Trunks had been greeted by a sight that would change his life forever.
Rifling around in a dresser drawer was a large man with a scar running down one cheek and an ugly scowl twisting his face. In one hand he held a wad of cash and a locket that Trunks had given his mother years ago for her birthday. In the other, he held a gun.
Trunks had barely spared a second glance for the man though, because on the floor, in a crimson pool lay his mother, her aqua hair soaked in the spreading liquid, making it appear almost brown. She was quite obviously dead.
____________________
Trunks pushed his sopping hair back out of his face, glad that the rain concealed the tears that were running down his face. That had been the beginning. And the end.
When he had seen his mother lying there in a pool of her own blood, he had gone ballistic. With the surge of rage that flowed through his veins, he had ascended to Super Saiyan 2 and blasted the intruder into dust. His rage had been uncontrollable. Explosive. It had evaporated Capsule Corp. and had cremated his mother's body.
The sheer energy he had been giving off had also severely injured dozens of the spectators who had crowded around the Capsule Corp. gates morning, noon, and night since he had defeated the androids. It had not been pretty.
When Trunks' surge of grief-stricken anger had finally subsided, he had been shocked to find himself in the midst of what looked like a war-zone.
Everyone had understood, at first, when he explained about how he had found his mother, but something had changed that day. He wasn't Bulma Brief's son, the young man who had saved the world, anymore. He was the man who had killed the androids, beings who had terrorized the earth for nigh upon twenty years. He had done it with ease. He wasn't a hero anymore. He was a threat.
Since that day eight months ago, Trunks had been on the run. It had started slowly, with people shying away from him in public. Women hiding their children when he walked by. It wasn't until the day that the new government had declared him public enemy #1, a threat that had to be dealt with, that Trunks had truly gotten the message.
Trunks didn't run out of fear for himself. He ran out of fear for them. There was nothing any of them could do to hurt him, even if they hadn't seemed to grasp that. He ran because he didn't want to have to kill them. He wasn't a murderer. HE WASN'T!
Trunks bowed his head, a small bead forming and dripping from the end of his nose. He weighed his sword carefully in his hands. He couldn't take it anymore. They would never let him live a normal life, and even if they did, he didn't know if he even knew what normal was anymore, if he ever had.
Taking the sword in both hands, Trunks watched the rain run shimmering down the length of the blade, and tried to consider which way would be best. The humans might not be able to kill him, but he could certainly kill himself.
As distracted as he was, Trunks never noticed the approaching 'ki'. He never noticed the soft footsteps that came up behind him, as he lay the edge of the sword against his neck. When a quiet voice spoke from behind him, he jumped and whirled around, almost decapitating himself and the speaker in the process.
"It won't help you know."
Trunks studied the girl in front of him. She looked to be about four years younger than him. Maybe sixteen. She had long dark hair and sad eyes that looked vaguely familiar.
"How would you know," Trunks snapped, his nerves shot to hell. How dare she!
Silently the girl held her wrists out for him to inspect. Each had a thin scar running across it, still red, but fading to white at the edges.
Trunks looked up at the girl's sad eyes. "Who are you?" he whispered.
"My name's Pan," she replied.
________________
Walking through the rain, his sword now sheathed, Trunks addressed Pan. "So, Pan, huh? No last name?"
Pan smiled humorlessly. "No. My mother never told me my father's name. She just told me she loved him very much and they had planned to marry before they were separated." Pan's eyes hardened a bit, and she went on, "A lovely story, although I'm sure it's just a story. She died when I was ten years old, and since then I've seen enough to puzzle out my true origins."
Trunks looked at the girl questioningly, "What do you mean?"
Pan glared at Trunks. Did he want her to say it? Fine. "How many fourteen-year-old girls do you know that are in love and getting married Trunks? That's how old she was when she had me. My mom was beautiful, and strong, and intelligent, and she thought up a lovely lie so I wouldn't feel guilty for being a bastard product of rape."
Trunks' eyes widened a bit, although he knew she was probably right. "Are you certain?"
Pan snorted bitterly. "She loved him that much and she never once told me his name? Come on, Trunks! Besides," she said glaring at the scars on her wrists for a moment before crossing her arms tightly over her chest, "It doesn't matter HOW strong you are. They get you eventually in the end."
Trunks paused for a moment, uncertain of what to say. Why was she trusting him with this? The fact that she was a product of rape. That she had obviously been raped herself, thus explaining her suicide attempt. They had only met a little over an hour ago, but it felt like they had known each other for years.
Trunks could sense it too, Pan knew. Why did she feel so easy with him? Was it because he knew her despair? That couldn't be it. Pan had known countless people who had either attempted or committed suicide. There was just something about him.
Stopping, Pan turned to face Trunks. "I-I'm sorry about your mother," she said hesitantly.
Trunks froze for a moment. She knew who he was, and she wasn't running! Was this some kind of a trap, he thought suspicious, for a moment. But no. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew this was no trap. Jerkily he nodded, then said, "I'm sorry about your mother too."
Pan nodded. She understood. They both turned and continued walking, ignoring the pouring rain that soaked them to the bone.
***Normal Timeline***
Pan sat sighing in Bra's window. Ever since her sixteenth birthday a month ago, Trunks had been taking out what seemed to be a new girl almost every night.
Pan reflected back on the party. She had been dancing with Trunks, and he had spun her around, smiling and laughing. He was such a goofball sometimes! Then there had come a slow song, and their eyes had met. For a confused moment, Pan had thought he was going to kiss her, but he had jerked away, leaving her alone there embarrassed and confused. And in love.
*I love Trunks. My best guy friend. A man fourteen years older than me,* Pan thought sadly to herself, watching him walk down the driveway towards his car, a giggling brunette clamped onto his arm.
Pan turned away from the window to see Bra staring at her knowingly. *Darn her, she knows too much,* Pan thought grabbing a pillow and chucking it at the smirking Bra. An all-out pillow war ensued and continued until Vegeta roared at them to knock it off from the bedroom down the hall.
Still giggling, the two girls hopped into bed and pulled the blankets over their shoulders. As Pan slowly drifted off to sleep, she reflected wryly that pillow fights were really no substitute for Trunks.
***Let me know how I did! Please R&R…pretty please??!***