Chapter One: Rival Arrival






Bulma snapped her eyes open as she sat up. She breathed heavily, looking at her alarm clock. She groaned. Only 4:57 AM. "Trunks, you're going to be the death of me," she muttered under her breath as she got up and shoved her feet into slippers, draping herself in a warm robe.


Her son's cries echoed throughout the hall as she stepped out. Opening the door to his nursery, she smiled sleepily to the fresh baby powder scent that welcomed her. She walked to the white crib and smiled at her one-year old baby boy. He gurgled and held out his hand, the tears standing still in his eyes.


"Did Trunksie have a bad dream?" She stroked the small baby's curl of hair. He gurgled more, wrapping his tiny hands around her wrists, holding on. Bulma's eyes warmed and she held her son in her arms.


She went to the rocker chair in the corner, by the windows, and sat there. She rocked back and forth, smiling down at her son. Bulma cooed at him, "Why can't you let mommy sleep?"


He giggled and wagged his fists around in the air. Bulma sighed. "Unresponsive like your father."


Her baby looked up curiously, sucking on his mother's thumb. "Hungry?" Bulma asked. Trunks looked at her and shined a toothless grin, wagging his hand at her. "I'll take that as a yes, then." She opened her robe and set a breast into his mouth. He ate his meal greedily, pawing as he sucked. She sighed, patting his back in soothing motions as she rocked. "The doctors recommend that I should stop breastfeeding you, but-" she closed her eyes, "I'm not sure what to believe. I wish Vegeta would just-"


She was interrupted by the loud slamming of a door. She looked through the window, seeing a stormy figure march from the gravity room she built for Vegeta. It is Vegeta, Bulma thought, stroking her son's head absently. Her eyes remained on her...


Her what? They weren't anything. It was just an accident. Just an accident, he had said to her before he left to train into space. Just an accident.


Just an accident. Bulma narrowed her eyes, the wonderful light blue becoming a darker, much more dangerous shade of blue. Trunks was just an accident to him. Her grip on her baby became tighter and he wailed into her breast at the sudden pressure. Startled, she relaxed her grip, looking down at her son. "I thought Saiya-jins could go through anything without feeling pain." He looked up with wide, innocent eyes.


"Heh." She smiled. "I knew you guys were pretending when you said you couldn't feel pain." Or at least Vegeta was. She scowled and looked down at her son. He stopped feeding strangely. "Something wrong?" She asked. There was no answer. Not that she had expected one.


"Maybe you shouldn't talk to little brats, Woman." A rusty laugh. Bulma winced and didn't look at the doorway to confirm that it was Vegeta there. He probably was leaning against the doorway, smirking at her.


"Vegeta..." The squeak of the rocking chair ceased then after a moment's silence, resumed. "Shouldn't you be training?" The tone was warm; the question was cold.


"I did."


"Are you happy with the results?"


"No." This was a regular answer whenever she asked that. It had been this way for three months after the Cell Games. Bulma didn't have to look up to see his scowl of determination. Determination to kill a man who's already dead, she thought. A dead man that's more important than this family.


Is it even a family? She asked herself. She looked down at Trunks, not sucking on her teat anymore but just staring at her skin. She stroked his hair and he whined, wailing gently. This was a surprise to her and she immediately tried to soothe him. Of course, Vegeta chose this time to argue with her over meaningless things.


"I expect the Gravity Room to be updated to another 200 by this afternoon."


"What?" Bulma looked up, seeing him clearly. This time the shadows and moonlight didn't cover his features. He looked dirty, drenched in sweat. His stench reached her nose and she scrunched it. Her eyes watered at both the stress being put on her by Vegeta's constant demands and the wailing Trunks. It was giving her a headache and she struggled to keep it under control.


"200. By this afternoon." He repeated, folding his arms across his chest. He was shirtless, allowing her to see all the scars he attained over the years he served under Frieza.


"Not now, Vegeta. I'm too-"


"Lazy." He finished for her. He glared. "The child shouldn't be coddled like that. He has warrior blood in him."


"I thought he was just a mistake." She mocked the words he said to her before when she was six months pregnant.


"He is." Came the cold tone. "But mistake or no mistake, he is part of my blood ... Will he fucking shut up?" He snarled as he glared at the child near Bulma's bosom. Bulma protectively tightened her arms around him.


"Don't say that!" She hissed then started to croon at her small, crying child. Vegeta rolled his eyes, looking annoyed.


"Sssh. Baby, shh, it's okay." She rocked the child, confused at his sudden crying. Why was he acting like this? As she bounced him in her arms, singing a lullaby (trying to calm him down), a crash was heard.









Vegeta scowled at the machine. He was back. The older brat was back. Great, he thought to himself, another mouth to feed. But the thought of having a near equal to train with immediately left him good spirits. Or as close to good spirits as he could get.


Bulma jiggled Trunks, trying to soothe his crying still. Finally she passed him over to his startled grandmother, having just came down from the stairs. "Bulma, are you all right?" Her mother asked as she did the same thing Bulma did to try and calm down Trunks. The baby boy nearly screamed. Bulma winced and looked out.


The time machine.


The boy from the future.


Her son.


Bulma's eyes were wide. Mirai Trunks. In the background she faintly heard her baby's cries but all she could focus her eyes on was her son from the future. Or is it an alternate dimension? she asked herself.











The air was warm from the aftermath of the crash, he noted as he searched the ground. He saw the familiar buildings, only they were newer, more freshly painted. He looked to the ground and saw his father staring up at him. Mirai Trunks tensed and kept his lips from twitching into a scowl.


"Brat." Vegeta greeted. Or in his form of greeting.


"Hn." Mirai said back. He looked around, searching for the blue hair. Vegeta looked at the boy more closely. He had grown. Not in height of features but ... something was different about him. Something he couldn't see. That's what bothered Vegeta the most. It made him feel as if he were in his encounter with Kakarott on Namek, watching as he turned Super Saiya-jin without knowing that he could. But even then he sensed something different in Kakarott's air, the way he reflected his ki, his aura. Now his 'future' version of his son was giving off something similar to what he felt from Kakarott.


And he didn't like it. The smell was too wrong.


Finally the flash of blue graced his vision. He sighed when he saw her, eyes roaming over her body. Mirai Trunks flew from the time machine and set gently on the ground. He brushed past his 'father,' not really caring if he offended him or not. He saw the younger him crying on his grandmother's shoulder. Bulma was beside her, staring at him. His eyes caught hers and after a minute of staring, she looked away.


He smirked. "Hey." He felt his father's presence behind him but didn't turn around. His attention was on his mother.


"Why are you here?" she asked. Mrs. Briefs stayed quiet as she watched the exchange. Something was wrong in the air. When she saw the young man, she knew who he was. The future version of Trunks. Mrs. Briefs may have been ditzy but even she felt the wrongness that this boy brought. Baby Trunks felt it too. He had quieted down, sobbing quietly into his grandmother's shoulder. That was another thing that puzzled the old woman. Babies, even one year olds as developed as Trunks, didn't sob.


"My mother ... she ......" Mirai Trunks trailed off, looking to the ground. He was observing her light pink slippers. Her feet were so small, he marveled. How she could be so fast on those little feet of hers was a wonder to him as a child.


A hand was on his shoulder. His mother's. She looked sad and sympathetic when he looked into her eyes again. "I'm sorry." He tried his best to look heartbroken and mournful.


"You'll always have a place in the family here." She hugged him, wrapping her small arms around his form. He hid his smile in her hair and hugged her back close to him. 'I know.' He thought to himself, 'Because you'll be mine.'












"Oh you poor dear." Mrs. Briefs squealed over Mirai Trunks. He held a smile and let her fawn and pat him on his head, as if he were a poor dear. Bulma was rolling her eyes, handling baby Trunks gently in her arms. He was silent, head resting against his mother's breast, staring at Mirai Trunks. The older man waved a small hello and smiled secretly. The baby stared at him as he nuzzled his head into his mother's comfort, wailing a bit.


"Mom, leave him alone." Bulma said, trying to shush Trunks. Her gaze caught Mirai's. "I swear he's been like this all morning. I'm not sure what's wrong with him," she started to coo at her baby, "Trunksie just likes to torture mommy and make sure she doesn't get sleep."


Mirai Trunks frowned and looked down at the wailing child. "Maybe he just wants attention," he murmured to himself.


"Huh?" Bulma looked up. "What did you say?"


"Nothing, nothing." He looked around. They were in the kitchen; a big place to enjoy eating, parallel to the one where he spent time with his mother. The thought of his mother caused both pain and pleasure. He pushed it away, looking over his shoulder to the dead-tired Bulma. I shouldn't think of her when I have a prize for the picking, he thought to himself.


The first light of dawn came through the window, shadowing everything it touched to a golden and rosy hue. He sat down, looking around. Bulma stared at him, trying to figure out how it must be like to lose one's mother. She looked at her own mother, staring also at Mirai Trunks. Silently she tapped her on the shoulder and handed the crying baby to Mrs. Briefs.


"I need to talk to him."


Mrs. Briefs hesitated then nodded, walking away. Bulma watched as Trunks tried to reach for her over his grandmother's shoulder, trying to stay with her. She shook off a shudder from the haunted look in the babe's eyes. Honestly, she needed some sleep. She was beginning to see things.

Mirai Trunks put his head in his palm as he thought. Now that he was here, he had to see the depth of the relationship between his father and mother. His mind went to his father. He felt his ki, still outside...but why? He sighed then felt a hand on his. Mirai Trunks looked immediately at his hand, which laid limply on the table. Smooth and marble-like fingers enclosed it and he traveled the arm up, up, up...to meet the smiling face of Bulma.


Her eyes were worried, he noticed. "Yeah?"


"I just wanted to make sure ... you-you would be okay." She rubbed her thumb against his palm, meaning it to be a mothering gesture.

He stole a look at her hand then went to her face. He smiled. "Now I am." He squeezed her hand. Bulma let her worry ease into a smile as well.


"Want to talk about...?" She trailed off, looking at him. He sighed and felt the pain of the memories stab through his soul. Each one was more agonizing then the next. The smells ... the smiles they gave each other ... they didn't care about him. She didn't want him. But he didn't know he was crying or that Bulma's arms were around him a second time.


"Ssh," she whispered as if he were her baby. Mirai Trunks inhaled a shaky breath, taking in her scent. This was what he needed. This was what he wanted. Through his blurred vision, he embraced her back, feeling the need to seek comfort from his mother. Not really his mother, but ... just a different version of her, he rationalized. It must be a little better if she's different. Afterall, it wasn't really incest. Not really.

So he nuzzled his nose into her neck, noting how she froze. He rested his chin on the juncture where her neck and shoulder met. "Thank you ... Bulma."

Bulma looked ahead of her, the refrigerator in the line of her vision. What had just happened? She felt Mirai Trunks's arms tighten around her and he whispered softly into her ear again, "Thank you, so..much." Before she could blink, he let go and was out the door.

How did he move so fast?

She sat in the chair, numb. It couldn't have happened...could it? She touched the place that tingled and shivered. No, it was lack of sleep. Yes, that's what it was. She nodded, feeling stupid at the first thought of Mirai-

But he didn't. She forced a smile and looked at the stove. Then at the stairs. The answer was of course obvious. She was tired and needed sleep. Important sleep, she said to herself, smiling.


Bulma could still hear her child crying as she dragged herself up the stairs. "No..." She moaned to herself as she directed herself in the direction of her room which was conveniently across the hall. She paused, looking in, expecting to see her blond-curled mother trying to calm down the little boy and instead saw Mirai Trunks taking care of him instead.









The small tinkling of bells and the mobile was in the background as Mirai Trunks was hunched over the crib. The sniffling little him was looking up, blue eyes awide with wonder.


"You're so small. And lucky to have such a good mommy." Mirai chuckled, fingering the baby's dimpled cheek. He gave off a low whine. Mirai smiled more and leaned in so far that his face was five inches away from the squealing babe's, "but we'll both take care of her, won't we?" Baby Trunks didn't do anything but start to wail again.


Mirai smiled and looked out the window. Hmm. He narrowed his blue eyes and scowled. Vegeta was investigating his time machine. But why? His hand went down to the place where his sword was kept and he noticed for the first time that it was gone. "Shit." He muttered, looking through the curtains at Vegeta.


He was going through all of his ... but why? Why. Mirai scowled. That was the question. Maybe I should go down there and...talk.. with my dad, Mirai grinned to himself and turned around to be met with blue eyes and a frown.


"Mirai...are you okay?" Bulma crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him suspiciously. Mirai Trunks smiled. His mother in the other timeline was always sharp. This one is too, he noted, saving that for later speculation. Now to get out of this pickle.


"No, not really." he answered. "Why do you ask?" He grinned down at her. She seemed unsure suddenly and took a step back. Somehow it looked as if she weren't expecting that.


"I was just-" she didn't bother to finish her thought when her attention went to Trunks. She looked so hopeless and lost, Mirai thought. I can find her.


Bulma held her little baby's hand. "I wish he would stop crying." Her voice broke and she looked like she was going to cry. "I don't even know why he's crying!" She felt Mirai's hands around her shoulders.


"He's probably just upset for no reason," he murmured into her ear. "He'll get over it soon."


Bulma looked down at baby Trunks. "No." she finally answered. "No, I don't think he will." She picked him up and laid his head on her shoulder, making Mirai draw one of his hands back. "Sssh. Trunks, please be quiet." Her voice broke a little again as she held back tears, "please stop."


Mirai let his hand slide of her shoulder, eyes on her neck. It was sweet temptation to touch her skin again but ... he had other matters to deal with, he remembered his father. Instead, his hand traveled down to her lower back then to her waist, where it stayed for a second. "I'm sure he'll stop when he has to." Bulma was stiff as he whispered the words and rubbed her sides with his hand.


He smiled and turned away, walking quietly out the door. Bulma was left behind with her crying child and a confused mind.











For one thing, Vegeta didn't know why the brat was here in the first place. So what if the Woman died? But as he thought that, something in him faltered. Something near the left of his chest, where his heart beat.


The Time Machine was a bit black from the impact it got from going into the ground. It was still giving off heat and Vegeta could feel its wavy sheens through the training clothes he wore. He scrunched his nose at the smell of the exhaust fumes raising from it and looked at the house where 'his' son was. Why was the brat even here?


He turned the thought over in his mind. There was a purpose, he supposed. This was the only other home the boy knew besides his own.


But doesn't he have a mate? Vegeta scowled, Some other people he can bother than us? From the looks of the boy, Vegeta wouldn't be surprised if he was still chaste. He nearly shuddered at the irony. He was unwillingly practicing abstinence (from the lesson that women on this planet get pregnant easily) and his offspring would probably faint if he saw a woman naked.


"Feh, as if he would please a woman." He started to laugh at the thought.


"Who couldn't please a woman?" A cool voice came from behind him. Vegeta paused, wondering how he couldn't feel the boy's ki. And how he was so fast to sneak up from behind him.


He turned his head over his shoulder and smirked. "I think you know who."


Mirai smirked. "Ow. That wounded me, Daddy," he said in mock-hurt fashion. Vegeta scowled and rolled his eyes. Mirai kept his eyes on his father's back then averted his eyes to the Time Machine. "So," he started, "how have things been doing since I've been gone?"


"Just fine." Vegeta grunted.


"Really? What about Bulma?" Vegeta tensed at her name being used. Two things ran through his mind. One, why was the boy calling his mother by her name, two, why was he getting the feeling that something was out of place?


"She's..fine, too."


"Oh. So...nothing's wrong then? Nothing at all?"


"Yes!" Vegeta snapped. "Fuckin' Kami, why do you care?" Mirai's face went stoic.


"I do care. A lot for Bulma and little Trunks." Vegeta noticed how his name was left out.


Mirai left Vegeta's side and flew up to the top of the Time Machine. He carefully brought out the sword. Dawn appeared now. The sky was an careful orange, mild and peachy-looking. The North Star twinkled in the sky, somewhere near where the Sun was dawning. He brandished his sword, making the light reflect into Vegeta's eyes. Vegeta held a gloved hand to his eyes and scowled.


"What the-"


"I left it in there." Mirai explained, jumping down into the ground. He dusted his jeans off, not looking bothered by Vegeta's stare. There was a silence as Mirai tied the sword's hilt to his belt. He brought his face up and caught Vegeta's gaze and held it.


"Breakfast!" Neither Vegeta or Mirai flinched or diverted their stare-down at the chirpy yell. Mrs. Briefs waved her hand eccentrically. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the air. Mirai gave a short smile at Vegeta before turning.


"Coming, Grandma!" Vegeta scowled as the young man brushed past him as if he were nothing but a mere inconvenience. He stared after the man through narrowed slits.


There was something in the essence of the boy that bothered him. Something that threatened Vegeta. But what? Everyone had the impression he was harmless (except with an enemy) and would never hurt a fly.


But there was that feeling that somehow Vegeta and everyone that got in Mirai's way would get hurt. No matter what. No matter who.








TBC..

AN : Wow! ^.^ Since no one really left their emails with those GREAT reviews (no sarcasm, trust me, I'm just enthusiastic I actually got some! :)

Damn college. University of San Francisco is BURNING my buns. /groan\ and I think they're trying to whip me into doing MORE work. Gah, stupid college professors /blows raspberry at them\ That'll teach 'em. Anyways, want a sneak preview of my life? As I wrote this chapter, Jack (the PIG!..no, not really, just human-wise), my roomie, came in with his new boyfriend and made out with him on OUR couch. Normally I wouldn't mind this but this type of making out involved er.. taking off your pants and spankin the bad boy downstairs. You can see how I ended the chapter so soon. I was busy cussin Jack out for bringin his little boyfriend (piercings on BOTH nipples, guys..gold too) in and giving eachother blow jobs on the couch while I was writing BOTH this chapter AND a due-tomorrow-essay..gah.. /grossed out\ If only this dude weren't so rancid, I wouldn't mind it. Ah well. hope you enjoyed the chapter, guys. /sigh\ Ya gotta love San Francisco.


Next chapter: Suspcion and fantasies. And the source of the problem is Mirai Trunks. ^.^ Like San Francisco, ya gotta love 'im.

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