"Oh that poor boy."

Trunks collapsed into the stuffed chair that always sat in the corner of the room and groaned.

He'd told Piccolo and Gohan that he'd speak to Bulma and Vegeta first but in the end he'd chickened out and given in to the desire to just come home. His head was a mess and to be honest, he hadn't been prepared to deal with the Brief's quite yet. There hadn't been much time for chatting when Piccolo summoned him back to his dad's time, his mom had kissed his cheek and sent him off with a promise to be careful.

They'd worried it was something serious, more aliens, or Cell making a reappearance. He hadn't expected personal and emotional worlds ending. How did you pack for that in your duffel bag? Aliens were a whole lot easier to deal with.

Who was he kidding? He was totally using his mom as an excuse. It was no easy thing marching in and stealing a kid, pissing off his parents in the process.

"It's not really stealing."

He hadn't realized he'd spoken his last thought outloud and he grinned weakly, "Okay, rescuing? That doesn't sound much better."

"What about adopting?" Mom came over and brushed her fingers through his hair and he allowed himself a moment to take the small comfort. He slouched down further in the chair, feeling it settle around him like a whisper of a hug.

This had been the chair Sensei always sat in; he'd start perched on the edge as if he was going to leave any minute. Mom would convince him to stay for a cup of tea and gradually he'd sink farther back and eventually fall asleep. Mom would make a sad tsking noise and cover him up before sending Trunks off to bed.

Rubbing his hand over the soft faded cloth on the arms, he sighed, "It's definitely a mess that's for sure."

He'd thought it would hurt a little less coming back home, not having Gohan standing there in front of him, scowling. In some ways it hurt more though, he wasn't plagued with a living Gohan here, instead his ghost and memories surrounded him. It'd been painful before but something he'd grown accustomed to living with, dulled a little with time. Turned out there was nothing like a trip to an alternate reality to reopen old wounds.

He laughed, swallowing back a sob and dropped his head into his hands. "I only hope I'm doing the right thing, mom. What if I'm just making it all worse?"

"I don't think you can make it worse, sweetheart. It sounds like that boy needs someone to look after him. I'm sure Gohan and Piccolo are doing what they can but I think you're probably the best suited to sorting this out. You understand him in a way the others can't."

He shook his head, "I don't think we're really all that alike. From what I've seen, he's kind of an asshole."

This time he did laugh, looking up at her, feeling a little more himself. "In fact, he seems to take after a certain Saiyan prince we both know."

His mom actually blushed at that and then laughed wickedly. "That reminds me, there is something I should tell you, I'd be remiss in my duties as a mother if I didn't. And especially now since you'll be going out in the world and meeting new people…"

He waited, wondering what she had to say that was so important.

"If you're going to have sex…"

"Mother!"

She plowed on, ignoring his squawk of dismay with a grin. "If you're going to have sex, use a condom. Birth control just won't cut it."

Trunks groaned and covered his eyes, "So you're telling me I was an accident."

She smiled and patted his shoulder, "Oh there was nothing accidental about what happened."

He groaned and tried to cover his ears but she grabbed his hands, forcing him to look at her directly.

"You were a surprise yes, but the best kind. And I'm a rather smart women if I do say so myself, and you said they have a second child…"

"Bra."

She winced, "My mother definitely had a hand in that name. But, if they have a second child it was intentional."

Grinning, she reached up to kiss Trunks' cheek. "I always knew there was more to that big Saiyan galoot. I'm glad he found some happiness even if he's being a numbskull right now. I know you can bring him around."

"We'll see, first I have to bring Trunks around. Did I tell you what they call me?" He nodded in thanks and took the cup of tea she handed him. She sat in the chair across, picking up some schematics but still giving him her attention.

"J.B." He paused for affect and then smirked, "Short for Junior Briefs." He laughed at the pained expression on her face. "I know, but it could have been worse, Goten wanted to call me Boxer."

Peering over her glasses, she raised an eyebrow. "Goten?"

Trunks whistled and took a sip of his drink. It was nice to be home, he'd be leaving again in a day or so but he'd missed chatting with his mom like this. It was good.

"I don't know the whole story, only the bits Piccolo told me. If you want to hear it though, we're going to need more tea."

We'd all noticed when J.B. left. He'd stopped by the house and let us know he was headed back to his time but would return in a few days. I didn't think Trunks trusted him fully yet, he hung back when J.B. was here and I could tell he didn't think he'd come back.

Though from what I'd heard, J.B.'s home wasn't all that great anyway. I guess his mom was there so that was something. Piccolo had told me that after they brought Trunks back to life with the Dragon Balls, he'd left saying he was going home to take down the rest of the Androids and Cell.

I couldn't help but wonder what it was like dying. I'd asked Goku about it once when he was visiting but he'd been weird and awkward about it. Though, Goku was always a little strange so it was hard to tell if it had been my question or him just being a weirdo.

We didn't really hang out that much. He mostly spent time with Dad when he visited, they'd spar or sometimes chat about boring adult stuff like how Krillin's kids were doing, which I was sure Dad only kept up with because he knew Goku would ask.

I know he taught Dad the Instant Transmission on one of those visits, so I suppose that was cool. I'd never sparred with him. The closest we'd come was when he visited not too long after I achieved Super Saiyan for the first time. I had been excited, thinking he would be surprised and happy but instead he'd seemed really mad at Dad and so I freaked out a bit. Later Dad explained it was because everyone thought you could only become a Super Saiyan through grief or rage. I don't know how I did it, but Trunks sure was pissed when he found out I'd become stronger than him. He probably cracked it out of sheer frustration at being left behind.

And naturally I'd wanted to know how Dad did it, this being before I learned that some questions were better asked of Piccolo.

So Goku and I kept our awkward weird conversations to a minimum. I wasn't stupid; I didn't need Trunks rubbing in my face the real details of Dad and Goku's history. I just didn't care and as far as I could tell, Goku was okay with that. He left me alone and I left him alone and nobody got his face punched in for being a dickhead.

And Piccolo said I needed to work on my people skills.

Trunks didn't have a lot of experience with awkward conversations. He'd always preferred the direct approach when dealing with people and he would be the first to admit, his life up until recently hadn't really afforded the chance to interact with people other then his mom and Sensei.

Sensei.

He really needed to get a grip about that. If the younger version of himself here could accommodate him into his life and all the complications that entailed, Trunks should be able to get his act together enough to look at Gohan and not die a little bit inside each time.

If only they didn't lok so much alike, a scar or two and different clothes, obviously but…he couldn't dwell on that though, they were two different people. Yes, his sensei had been stern but he'd also been kind and would joke with Trunks. He was patient with him, even when he was being the worst pain in the ass possible.

The Gohan here clearly didn't give two fucks about him. Trunks had to smile wryly about that. If his punk ass self had known what that felt like at thirteen, well maybe he would have treasured his time with Sensei more. To have someone be there and think the world of you…he had meant every word he'd said to Gohan and Piccolo.

Still, it was far better to have had it and lost it, to hold that memory and feeling inside on dark nights, than to have never experienced it at all. And the Trunks here needed that. He deserved that just as much as his older counterpart had.

After all Sensei, you gave me everything you had, I can definitely return in kind.

And standing in the Briefs' kitchen, arms crossed, watching Bulma and Vegeta scream at each other, he knew he was doing the right thing. He was damn glad Trunks was still at Gohan's, though. He'd thought telling the parents would be rough, but he hadn't predicted quite how messy it would be.

He ducked as a pot of spaghetti noodles flew across the room, Bulma shrieking at Vegeta in rage. Vegeta for his part had been ready to storm out and force Gohan into a fight, blustering about what real training meant for real Saiyans. He'd not been pleased when Bulma had laughed in his face, informing him that Gohan would mop the floor with him.

Trunks waited it all out, taking care to note that while Vegeta bellowed and waved his arms around, he never raised a hand toward Bulma or seemed inclined to direct any violence against her. That was a relief; Trunks had been prepared to deal with something like that but was agonizingly grateful it wasn't the case. It seemed Vegeta's abuse did fall strictly under the 'training' category and as cruel as it was, it wasn't out of rage or spite.

Not that it made it okay. In no way, shape or form was it okay, but at least it was something Trunks could work with.

It was after a good fifteen minutes of yelling, arm flailing, tears and thrown pots that there was finally a break in the hysterics that allowed Trunks to clear his throat and uncross his arms.

"Are you guys done?" He looked at them both fondly, if in exasperation, and shook his head. "I don't expect you to understand now, but given some time away I hope things become a little more clear and you both get some perspective."

Vegeta scowled and opened his mouth, clearly ready to jump into it again but Trunks held up a hand, frowning in return.

"No. I don't know what you're about to say but don't let it be something you're going to regret later."

Vegeta paused, flicking a glance at Bulma and then settled back against the wall silently.

"There is only one outcome here." Trunks made sure they were both looking at him, ignoring Bulma's tears. "You guys need to sort yourselves out. Your Trunks, the Trunks living here in this time, is a different person from me. He's had a different upbringing, different challenges."

He looked pointedly at Vegeta this time, "Different teachers."

Bulma moved to speak and Trunks shook his head. "You compare us all the time, I've seen you do it. Why do you do that to him? You wouldn't compare Trunks with Goten or even Bra. Why do you think it's okay to compare the two of us? Yes, we share the same DNA but that's the extent of it."

He smile gently, they were both clearly upset and confused. "I know you don't want to hear this but to be honest, we don't even have the same mother. You may resemble my own mom but you're not her."

Bulma's hands flew up to her mouth and she shook her head, "Trunks, baby that's not true!"

He bit his lip but made himself plow on, "I'm sorry, I know this is hard but I don't look at you and think about all the stuff my mom has or hasn't done. I just see a different person with a different path. Shouldn't it be the same for Trunks?"

Bulma reached out as if to hold on to him and he took a small step back. Her eyes filled with tears but she nodded slowly and then turned and fled the room.

Vegeta actually growled at Trunks, fists clenched, "Now who's saying things they'll regret?"

Trunks looked at him, feeling like a heel, but held his ground, "I don't regret what I said since it's the truth. I do regret making her sad though. She didn't raise me and neither did you. You have a perfectly wonderful son right here begging for you to notice him and you're throwing him away."

Vegeta hissed through his teeth, glaring at Trunks as if he could burn holes through his head. "Don't lecture me on how to raise that boy."

"What raising? From where I stand all I see is a good deal of beat downs. Do you even hear yourself? 'That boy'. Not my boy or our boy. I know you love him. Why can't you admit it? Get over yourself, dad. And when you're ready to see Trunks for the awesome kid he is, then maybe you can spend time with him again. Until then, he's staying with me."

Vegeta stared at him as if he'd never seen him before and then swore, slamming his fist into the wall behind him. Without another word, he spun around he stalked out of the room.

Trunks watched the plaster crumble to the floor and then looked around the empty kitchen, and sighed heavily.

"Well that went about as well as I expected."

TBC...

*I know, a super short chapter compared to the others. It annoyed me too, considering how many weeks I've been poking at it. I had more included but I took it out and dumped it into the next chapter, it felt better to end here as the next chapter jumps into the boys return to school. So never fear, I'm still chugging along on this.