The sky shone with lurid pinks and purples, fading into cool blue and black higher above. The remnants of a dissipating thunderstorm created vivid striations of color, losing cohesion as Trunks watched. It was a beautiful enough sight that he slowed to watch it, lingering until almost every trace of color had vanished from the now star-dusted sky. With his attention on the sky, he failed to notice the glow along the eastern horizon. It was a faint glow, to be sure, but the orange color stood in stark contrast to the midnight blue surrounding it. By the time he turned around, it was gone.

Trunks landed well away from the apartment complex. Even though it was somewhat outside city limits, protecting the secret of his abilities wouldn't be exactly easy if he simply flew in and landed in front of the building. Hence – landing farther away and walking the rest of the distance. It was a pleasant walk. Tonight however, was different. He could smell the smoke in the air as soon as his feet touched the earth. Woodsmoke, mostly, the taste heavy and thick on his tongue. It reminded him of camping trips with Gohan and Goten, up in the mountains of the East District 439. And speaking of Goten…

The mere thought of his mate brought a smile to the young man's lips. What he had with Goten was really special. It was more than sex, more than love. He'd known Goten his whole life. It wasn't a subject that he often analyzed, or paid much attention to. It just was. Trunks dismissed the matter from his mind, concentrating on the latest project at work. Having taken over the running of Capsule Corps. for his mother meant that he had shouldered a huge responsibility. In the first few months, he hadn't known quite how to balance it. It had smoothed out, though, and while running the company wasn't something he truly enjoyed, it gave him a sense of satisfaction to keep everything going smoothly. The smile became rueful as Trunks' thoughts turned to his father. Vegeta hadn't ever been particularly pleased with his son's choice of career. Still, Trunks couldn't complain about his relationship with his father either.

Thoughts were interrupted by the increasing smell of smoke. It was getting stronger, and the street was soaking wet. And it didn't smell like rainwater, although that could have been the smoke interfering. Trunks started jogging towards his home. He could see it after only a few minutes. A wave of relief washed over him when he saw its silhouette and realized that it was still standing. The feeling twisted and knotted in the pit of his stomach when he saw the windows.

Floodlights bathed the building, creating a merciless corona. Instead of silvery glass, glowing with internal light, black gaping holes stared out at the small crowd gathered in front. The collective ki of the crowd seemed to blend together, jittery and uncertain, making it hard to sort out any individual signatures. Trunks grabbed the arm of the nearest person, a woman whom he vaguely recognized as living on the floor above him. "What's going on?" he demanded. She turned dazed eyes on him.

"I… I don't know… They said that the fire spread through the walls…" She brought one hand up to cover her trembling lips. "It was an older building…"

Trunks laughed shortly. A fire? That was all? That… didn't account for the dread twisting his guts. "Have you seen Goten around? I need to talk to him." He'd have to arrange guest quarters in Capsule Corps. headquarters for the two of them, until they could work out something more permanent.

The woman was crying now, almost silently. Trunks patted her shoulder awkwardly, and moved through the crowd, trying to find Goten's energy signature. He couldn't sense it through the confusion. That was odd. He had been under the impression that the younger man would be spending the evening at home. "Goten?"

He was almost at the front of the crowd now, and he noticed the flashing lights for the first time. Perhaps they had been swallowed by the bright white of the floodlights, he wasn't sure. An ambulance blocked his view of the front door, its no longer pristine surface casting the people around it into shadow. Paramedics surrounded a figure prone on the ground, jolting the body with electricity. Trunks watched for a moment, fascinated despite himself, until the man was declared dead, and they moved away from it. He could see it a little more clearly now. Oddly enough, there was no damage. No burns or lacerations. A little girl stood a few feet away, clinging to a middleaged woman. The girl was covered in soot, crying, tears leaving cleaner trails down her rounded cheeks. She spoke, and the words froze Trunks to the core.

"Mama, why won't Goten-san wake up?"

He couldn't move. And yet, he was on his knees, hands shaking, reaching towards the still form. Tousled dark hair, obscured by gritty ash. Now that he was closer, he could see the scorch marks on Goten's too-pale skin, the reddened welts standing out like brands. Superficial only, though. Not enough damage to even begin to slow down a Super Saiyan. What was wrong, then? Dark eyes, lashes resting against high cheekbones. He was sleeping, that was all. Trunks shook his shoulder, searching for a spark of the ki that had to be there. It wasn't. He dug deeper, pulling on his own energy to fuel the hopeless effort. His world shrank down to nothing but the man in front of him, the man who remained stubbornly unresponsive no matter what he did.

Someone stronger than he was finally pulled him away, and Trunks realized that he'd been screaming. His throat was raw and painful as he drew in the tainted air. "Saa, Trunks-kun… daijoubo…"

Gohan. Trunks clung to the older man. "Goten... he…"

"I know." Gentle hands stroked his hair, and coaxed out the tears. "I know."

"Hey, Goten."

"Nani?" Clueless dark eyes looked up from the model kit. Half of the tiny pieces were already fit together, and the rest were well on their way. One corner of Goten's pink little tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on the task at hand.

"You didn't tell me your brother was going to be substitute teaching." A truly wicked gleam entered the cerulean blue eyes.

Goten cocked his head to the side. "So?"

Trunks smirked. "So? I've got a great idea." He could see the trepidation in his friend's eyes. "Oh, come on Goten. We're not gonna kill him or anything."

"But…" Goten began in a troubled voice. "Nii-chan…"

It wasn't that difficult to talk Goten around to his way of thinking, really. Trunks had the younger boy persuaded within moments, and soon Goten was snickering as much as he was. The class that Gohan was substituting for, ironically enough, was biology, and the current discussion revolved around genetics and the definition of species.

So it was that when Gohan walked into the classroom, he found a six foot stuffed monkey sitting in the teacher's desk and a roomful of innocent students. He shook his head at the two half-Saiyans in the back row. "Good morning. My name is Son Gohan. I will be teaching your class for the rest of the week, as Daidouji-san is ill." He continued the class, ignoring the giant ape until the last students had filed out the door. Then the monkey vanished into a capsule.

The next morning found Trunks in Goten's seat, and Goten in Trunks', each answering to the other's name and both wearing Great Saiyaman t-shirts. Gohan sent them both down to the principal's office within fifteen minutes, although Trunks could tell he was trying not to laugh at their outrageous statements. Once out in the hallway, Trunks dropped his books. "Fuse!"

A dance, a motion, outstretched hands. "Fuuuuuuusion – Ha!"

Gotenks smirked, started laughing and ran back into the classroom, shouting "Brolli! It's Brolli!" and took off again.

Gohan, in all probability, knew damn good and well that Brolli was permanently dead. However, he chased them down anyway, after a hurried statement to the class.

Since Gotenks wasn't trying particularly hard to get away, Gohan caught him easily. It didn't help that Gotenks was nearly doubled over with laughter. Gohan told him to defuse and get back to class. When he got back into the classroom, a life-size standup cardboard cutout of the Legendary Super Saiyan stood in front of the class. After that, both boys were told that there would be no more pranks or they would not spar for a week.

They looked at each other. "Ano… Gohan-san, there's a bucket of green dye above the door," Trunks said after a moment.

"Thanks," Gohan said dryly. "I don't want to be that much like Piccolo."

"Smoke inhalation?" Trunks said disbelievingly. "You're kidding. You can't be serious. He wouldn't die!"

Gohan shook his head. "The paramedics said he went back in, again and again. That he said he could feel people in there, and he wouldn't leave them there. He carried the little girl out last…what was her name?"

"Minako," Trunks supplied dully. "Gohan-san, how could he die?"

"The amount of carbon dioxide in there would have…" Gohan continued speaking. Trunks stopped listening. He didn't really care how it had happened. Just that Goten had died.

Why did you do it, Goten? Are their lives worth more than yours? Even as the thought formed, he knew the answer. Goten couldn't just sit by while someone was in danger. It wasn't in his nature.

"Come on, Trunks." Trunks turned his eyes away from the young man sitting on his desk. The data on the screen blurred slightly for just a moment, and he shook his head.

"Goten, I have to finish this."

"Truuuuuunks-kun!" The childish protest brought a smile to the lilac-haired half-Saiyan's lips.

"I'm almost done. I'll be home soon, I promise."

"I never get to see you any more." The words were spoken so quietly that Trunks nearly didn't hear them. "You're always working."

"It's a big job, Goten. Running this company…"

"Is more important than me. I get it." And he was gone. Trunks nearly went after him, but he couldn't sense the other man's ki, and he was behind on the paperwork as it was.

It wasn't ten minutes later – and just after he fortuitously hit the save icon – that the power went out. He glanced at the dark window and realized that the power had gone out over more than three-quarters of the city. As he watched, the rest of the lights flickered and died. Goten appeared outside his window seconds later.

"You don't know how to take care of yourself." He grinned. "So I'll just have to do it for you." He slung Trunks over his shoulders and took off. Trunks was too stunned to react at first, and by the time he had gotten over the shock, the exhaustion of the past three days had started kicking in. The wind rushed past his face, cooling and soothing.

"What did you do?" he asked once Goten had pried open the window to their apartment and deposited him inside.

"Oh, the power'll be out for at least another twelve hours. Long enough for them to get the parts they need." Goten dropped something metallic on the floor. "And you." He pushed Trunks towards the bedroom. "I'll see you in the morning."

"But –" Trunks started to protest.

"Trunks-kun, you know if I go in there you won't get any sleep." Goten continued to push him towards the bedroom.

Trunks capitulated, and crawled underneath the sheets. Alone. It was cold, and he shivered slightly. Just before he dropped off, he felt a warm presence behind him.

The next morning, it took the sun shining directly into his eyes to wake him up. The south-facing window glittered brightly in the light, evidence of a late-night storm that he had apparently slept right through creating patterns of shadow on the glass. Goten's arm was around his waist, and he could feel the deep even breaths against his back.

It felt wonderful.

The funeral was a blur. There were lines of people, vague faces. Cream and peach blotches above black clothing. Here and there, someone stood out. Piccolo, who only hovered above the church during the ceremony, ki high enough that it was unmistakable. The woman who'd called to complain about the teaching methods Son-sensei employed with her child on the first week of class, and later become a good friend. Gohan, standing just behind Trunks, not bothering to hold back the tears.

The Dragonballs were useless. Absolutely useless. Apparently, it had been a natural death. A human accident. Nothing supernatural enough to fall within the realm of the great and powerful Shenlong. And so the dragon would do nothing. Trunks had tried to decapitate it. He hadn't succeeded, of course. The dragon had been dismissed before anything had happened.

The line of people continued. Black and cream. Blue and white, brown earth against green grass. It was all meaningless.

"Trunks-kun, it's too hot to move." Goten cracked one dark eye open mournfully. He looked absolutely pathetic, dripping with sweat, and plastered to the stone floor. Trunks grinned and upended a bucket of icewater over his suffering companion.

Goten gasped, body going rigid in shock. The last remnants of near-freezing liquid trickled out of the empty bucket and plopped onto his dark hair. Goten reached upwards, fishing the ice out of the tangled strands and brushing the remnants off of his skin. "That wasn't nice, Trunks-kun." He lunged for the pale-haired half-Saiyan, tussling for control of the bucket. It didn't take too long for the heat to make itself felt once again, and both boys dropped to the ground panting.

"We can go swimming, you know," Trunks said after a moment.

"Yeah, but I don't have –" Goten started. "Not at the public beaches." Another smirk crossed Trunks' features. "Just you and me, Goten."

Goten considered. Trunks could practically see his train of thought, and realized he was wearing the same smirk that preceded most of the events that got the both of them in trouble. He hastily rearranged his face, and tried to look convincing.

"O-okay," Goten consented after a moment. "But where are we going?"

"C'mon." Trunks dove into the air, feeling Goten's ki swell as the younger boy followed. He laughed, reveling in the sheer joy of the sun and the wind, and the knowledge that his best friend was right behind him.

He stood at the top of a dead volcano minutes later, looking down at the waves crashing against the rocks. He turned to Goten. "Look at that." The cone-shaped form had eroded in one spot, letting the sea flow into the mouth of the massive structure. For unknown reasons, the rest of it remained relatively undamaged, and the stone walls reared hundreds of feet upwards. Inside, the waters were almost calm. Outside, spray filled the air, evidence of the power battering the rock. As the water droplets flew, they caught the sun, giving the impression of thousands of pinpoints of dancing light.

Goten grinned the Son smile, open and so completely happy. "Sugoi, Trunks-kun!" The smile caught at something within Trunks, and he turned away. "Is something wrong?"

Occasionally, Goten could be just a little too perceptive. Trunks glanced around, smiling. "Naaah. Come on, let's go swimming!"

He sliced cleanly into the relatively calmer waters provided by the mountain. While the turbulent currents outside posed no danger, it wasn't as relaxing to constantly fight the waves. That was for later. He turned over on his back, letting the brightness beat against his closed eyelids. A brief shadow was all the warning he had before he was pushed downwards, and nearly choked on salt water. Goten. He opened his eyes, just a slit, seeking the dark figure that had pressed him downwards. There it was, up to his left. He grasped a flailing ankle and pulled. Goten's surprised noise could be heard even through the sound of the surf. The youngest Son didn't take too long to recover, though, and started a waterborne tussle that left both of them waterlogged, pleasantly tired, and once again overheated. Trunks laughed again.

Goten looked at him quizzically.

Trunks shook his head. "I'm gonna go swim out there for a little bit." The sun was lowering in the horizon, shining directly into the opening in the rock.

"I'm gonna stay here." Goten paddled over to the shallower water in the shade near the edge of the not-quite-lake. "Thanks, Trunks-kun."

Trunks shrugged and headed towards the open water. It had gotten darker, and the water had taken on a grayish sheen. The waves were fiercer now, and he could see them capped with white nearly out to the horizon. Realization that the oncoming darkness stemmed not from the setting sun, but from the dark clouds boiling over the horizon, sent him racing back to Goten. These storms could be vicious and disorienting, and utterly miserable to sit through.

Goten was nowhere to be found. Trunks called over the now rising wind, searched for Goten's ki. Spray drenched his body, no longer shining but white and wild. There – he felt the telltale signature of another Saiyan along the rock. It was low, the amount of energy at a subnormal level. It took him less than a second to arrive at Goten's position, but in that brief moment all sorts of possibilities rushed through his mind. Goten was hurt, had been attacked, had had his ki drained…

…Goten was asleep. Trunks' mind stalled as he took in the sight of a peaceful half-Saiyan curled up on a ledge. He reached down and tapped his friend's shoulder. "Hey, Goten."

Dark eyes blinked. "Trunks?"

Trunks shook his head. Only a Son. "Storm. We gotta go."

Goten yawned and stretched, dust and gravel sticking to his skin. "M-kay." The first fat raindrops started to fall, one of them splashing directly onto the Son's nose. Goten looked at it cross-eyed for a moment and shook his head. "At least it's not hot any more, Trunks." He smiled.

"Yeah." Trunks snorted. "Come on. Let's get out of here before it gets bad."

The rain was quicker than both of them, and they were submitted to a deluge of epic proportions. It was nearly as warm as the water had been, and if it hadn't been falling quite so hard, it would have been nearly enjoyable. As it was, Goten started laughing.

"Hey, Trunks-kun."

"What?"

"We didn't need to go swimming… all we had to do was wait for the rain!" He spun in a dizzying circle before returning back to his original trajectory.

Something about those words… Trunks brushed it off, and grabbed Goten in a headlock. "Yeah, but then I wouldn't have been able to beat you."

"Whaaat?" Goten crossed his arms. "I won that one."

"You did not." Trunks pulled Goten against him, supporting his friend's weight as they continued towards home.

Goten twisted around and grabbed Trunks around the waist, effectively breaking the other boy's hold and now carrying Trunks over his shoulder. "Gotcha!"

Goten's skin was smooth and wet, and pleasant. Trunks sighed. "Okay. You win."

"Ha." Goten sounded immensely satisfied. The rain sheeted down, veritable curtains of water limiting visibility and making it nearly impossible to determine where they were going. "Ano… Trunks-kun?"

"Yeah?"

"Where are we?" Goten stopped.

"Uh…" Trunks slid off of Goten's shoulder and hovered. "I thought you knew."

"I've never been out here before! I was following you!" The very picture of indignation, until his rain-saturated hair flopped over one eye.

"Um…" Trunks looked around. Problem was, he couldn't see a damn thing. There was shoreline underneath their feet, though. "Let's go down there."

It was a little less turbulent near the ground, and easier to sense ki. Trunks closed his eyes and reached. His father was clearly defined, but alone. Not at Capsule Corps, then. Chi Chi was near Gohan. That way, then. He looked up to see Goten dancing up and down. "Know where we're going yet?"

Trunks nodded. "That way." He pointed.

By the time they made it back to Goten's house, they had outrun the storm, and even been dried out by the wind. Trunks' normally neat hair stood up in wild spikes, looking almost like Goten's on a good day. Goten… Trunks poked at Goten's hair in fascination. Goten brushed him off, yawning. "Stop that, Trunks-kun. He looked at the door. "You wanna sleep over?"

Trunks nodded. "Sure."

Tomorrow was going to be just as bright of a day.

"They couldn't recover much of your belongings, sir." A young woman handed Trunks a box. "Only a few small items. The rest were too damaged by the fire."

Trunks nodded and took the box out of her hands. It was surprisingly light. "Thank you." His voice was hoarse, rusty. He hadn't spoken at all in the last twenty-four hours.

The woman hesitated, smiled, and left. Trunks shoved the door closed with his hip. It was dark inside, blinds drawn to keep the sunlight out. Sunlight held too many painful memories.

He stored the box on the top shelf of the closet in the guest room. He didn't need all the space, but something about the area appealed to him. Perhaps it was the near-constant rain during the winter months. He glanced out of a window. The clouds were breaking up already. An early spring this year, then. He cursed under his breath and turned away.

"I'm sorry…" Trunks paused helplessly.

"Dalus," the woman spat. "I demand to speak with Son Goten immediately."

"Dalus-san, he isn't here right –" Trunks backed away from the angry parent in the doorway. Goten had had his first day at his new school, and apparently it had not gone well.

"Do you know what he taught my son? Do you?" The woman was practically bursting with what could only be termed "righteous indignation".

"Um, no, Dalus-san…"

"My son came home and started hitting things! He said that Son-sensei -" she stressed the word with an inordinate amount of sarcasm " – told them about martial arts." She folded her arms across her narrow chest and glared at him.

"Dalus-san," Trunks started. The woman was as formidable as his mother. It was disturbing. And she had children? "Dalus-san, if you will leave me some way to contact you, I'll make sure he will get back to you as soon as he gets home."

She narrowed her eyes.

It took another fifteen minutes to pacify the harridan to the point where she agreed to leave. As soon as she was gone, Goten poked his head through the door. "Trunks-kun?"

As he hadn't felt his partner's ki, Trunks nearly decked him in startlement. "Dammit, Goten, don't do that!"

"I'm sorry…" Goten lowered his gaze. "But she makes me nervous, Trunks-kun."

"Goten, Goten, Goten." Trunks chuckled, amused. "What exactly was she so upset about?"

"I tried to teach 'em a kata during recess…" Goten looked up meekly. "I didn't think anyone would mind…"

"But you're supposed to be-"

"I know… but they were bored." His expression was so typical of a Son caught doing something that he wasn't sure was precisely wrong, but had sounded like too much fun to pass up.

"Were they any good at it?" Trunks leaned against the now-closed door, arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh yeah, they did great!" Goten's face lit up, and he paced back and forth excitedly as he detailed the various students in his class and their progress. "And most of them wanted to do it again tomorrow…" His mood altered again as he remembered the reaction of at least one irate parent to his nontraditional choice of teaching methods. "But if they don't want me doing it, then…" His voice trailed off miserably.

"Goten, that's just one person. I'm sure we can get it worked out." Trunks put a comforting arm around his lover's shoulders. "I'll talk to the school in the morning, don't you worry."

"No, I can do it. I'll apologize to them." Goten pulled away and stood up straight. "I can do this by myself, Trunks." He grinned confidently, but there was a shadow of apprehension lurking around the edges of his countenance.

Trunks wanted to shelter him, take over and make the fear go away. It wasn't his place, though. He had to let Goten sort out his own difficulties. It didn't mean that he didn't love the other man; it meant that he respected him enough to let him stand on his own. He nodded. "Let me know how it goes."

"Hey, Trunks, Videl and I are going to take Pan to the beach this afternoon. It would be great if you'd come with us. Give me a call back."

The answering machine clicked off, and the light resumed the flashing indicating a new message. Trunks closed his eyes against the glare and turned his head away. It was too bright outside. Maybe later. He crawled out from underneath the unwashed sheets and stumbled into the bathroom. Hot water from the showerhead penetrated his pajamas, trailing in rivulets past the days-old T-shirt, through the wrinkled boxer shorts, slipping down the pale skin of his legs. He found himself staring, mesmerized at the simple motion of the water as it spiraled down the drain. Shadow glinted in the corners, threading through the droplets trickling out of his limp amethyst hair.

He'd wanted to protect Goten. But it wasn't right, wouldn't help Goten in the end. But he had failed. He had failed to find the balance between strangling his lover and pushing him away, and because he hadn't been there, Goten had died.

Don't be silly. What could you have done?

He ignored the voice. That voice belonged out in the sun with Gohan and Pan and Videl. Not with him. Not with a failure.

The water going down the drain took on an orange cast as his fingernails dug unnoticed into his palms.

"It's so tiny!" Goten looked at the tiny little thing with wide eyes. He turned to his brother. "That's gonna be a fighter?"

"Well, maybe not a fighter," Gohan amended hastily with a quick glance towards the door. Videl was not in the most rational of moods. Trunks completely sympathized with the older fighter. Women were scary.

"Can I hold her, Gohan-san?" He extended his arms towards the newborn. Gohan shot another precautionary glance towards Videl.

"If you're very very careful." Gohan placed the bundle in the outstretched arms.

Trunks nodded. It was so small. Goten edged his way over and reached out cautiously. He traced the lines of the baby's face, enchanted with the prospect of a new almost-sibling.

"Nii-chan, can we keep her?" The youngest male Son blinked up at his older brother.

Gohan burst out laughing. "I think if I suggested otherwise, Videl would kill me."

Pinpoints of light spoiled the farreaching darkness of space. They gave a sense of distance, of perspective, of being. But between them, there was nothing. Trunks lay on his back and gazed upwards, searching the dark for … something. An ending, perhaps. It held no answers.

"Why did you leave me?" He hadn't meant to say the words out loud. They spilled out, rough and raw, pouring into the waiting silence. "Why did you leave? Why was it so important to you to pull one more person out? Are they worth more than you are? Are they worth more than I am?"

Scalding moisture flooded down the curve of his cheeks, spilling onto the grass. He stood, suddenly, pacing back and forth.

"We had something special, Goten. And you left me. You … how could you do this to me? How dare you do this to me?" His voice rose with each sentence, and by the time he reached the last, he was nearly screaming. "How…" Pale hands covered eyes clenched shut, trying to dam the tears, stop their flow. "I trusted you."

He was angry, now. Furious. Furious that Goten hadn't thought enough of them, of him to stay.

"I miss you…" A near whisper, barely audible and almost insignificant next to the impassioned cries heard just moments before. "I want you to come back… and you never will. Never…" The sobs shaking his shoulders were silent, now. But as the moon sank towards the horizon, they lessened, and finally stopped, replaced by the sound of steady, even breathing.

"Hey, Goten!" Trunks snapped his fingers in front of the other boy's face. "What's wrong with you?"

"Huh?" The clueless, dazed look wasn't particularly out of the ordinary, but Trunks had had to nearly shout to get his friend's attention. "Did you say something, Trunks?"

"Yeah. I asked if I could paint you blue and you said yes." Trunks crossed his arms, looking particularly like his father.

"You did not!" Indignant was the only word to describe the expression that had replaced the confusion.

"Yep. I did. And it's a promise now." Trunks smirked and walked towards the door. "And since we've taken all our finals for this year, you can't use school as an excuse to get out of it."

"Ha." Goten's attention once again turned inwards, his vision focusing on something only he could see. It was beginning to make Trunks nervous. What if there really was something wrong with Goten?

He scrambled over the bed, intending to sit on the young half-Saiyan until Goten told him what was wrong. Fate apparently had other ideas. Goten turned towards him, possibly intending to chase him down before he could get to the blue paint, and they managed to end up on the floor in a tangle of limbs. Trunks could feel something on the floor digging into his back, the effect worsened by Goten's weight squarely on top of him. Wide panicked eyes stared directly into his and then the weight was suddenly gone. Footsteps sounded down the stairs followed by the door opening and then Goten's energy level spiked.

Trunks pushed himself up and flung himself out of the window in just enough time to tackle his friend and pin him to the ground.

"Let me go, Trunks!" He struggled, but the movements were uncoordinated and ineffectual. A single tear leaked from the corner of one eye and trailed downwards. Trunks touched it, confused.

"Goten, what's wrong? Tell me! I can help!" He meant every word.

Goten turned his face away. "No, you won't."

Trunks let go and sat up. "What do you mean, 'no I won't'? I'm your friend, Goten."

Goten's eyes hardened. That was all the warning Trunks had before the younger boy lunged forward and kissed him on the mouth. The motion was desperate, and Trunks could barely sort out the conflicting sensations. Heat, the heat was overwhelming. Goten's tongue, seeking entrance. Trunks parted his lips, just slightly, and Goten seemed to take it as an invitation, roaming and tasting. His hands, however, were still, holding Trunks in a near-crushing embrace. He pulled back, finally, trembling and uncertain.

"I… I'm sorry… I…" He was going to run again. Trunks could see it.

"Goten." He reached out and caught a slender wrist. "Don't leave." Having his best friend kiss him was weird. More than weird. Especially considering that they were both men. Boys. Whatever. And yet, he didn't want Goten to leave; if that happened, he'd never come back.

"But you –" Goten gestured helplessly with his free hand.

"I don't hate you." That was the thought running foremost in Goten's mind. He knew it. He could almost hear the litany.

"You don't?" Goten stilled.

Trunks shook his head.

"Do you … do you feel like me?" A hopeful thread wound its way through Goten's voice, growing stronger with each word.

"I don't know." It was the honest truth. He'd never considered Goten as more than a friend, never considered anyone of his own gender as a potential lover. It had been exciting, though, and he knew he didn't have to be careful around the other boy. He grinned suddenly. "Let's try it again."

"That was great, Videl." Trunks smiled at Gohan's wife appreciatively.

"Oh, tell Gohan." She smiled self-deprecatingly. "He's the one that made it."

"Really?" Trunks turned to the older Saiyan. "You can cook?"

"Oh yeah." Gohan nodded. "Kaa-san insisted on it." He quirked an eyebrow at Videl. "And since she's not really that good at it…" He ducked the mock blow, grinning like a Son.

Trunks shook his head, smiling. "I can't cook either, Videl-san. That was always –" He broke off, unable to complete the sentence. It had been Goten's self-appointed task. He glanced at the open smile on Gohan's face, so reminiscent of his younger brother.

The thought washed away all of the light-hearted feelings engendered by an evening spent with the oldest half-Saiyan and his family, leaving a sharp ache behind. The pain was still fresh, still biting. He was only fooling himself to think that it would get better.

"Trunks-san?" An insistent hand tugging on his sleeve dragged him out of his thoughts.

"What is it, Pan-chan?" He looked down at the upturned face of his niece-by-marriage. She was ten now… or was it eleven? He could still remember the look of awe on Goten's face as he held the child for the first time.

"Can you take me for a walk outside?" Dark eyes looked up soulfully. "I have ta collect bugs for my science class."

"Um…" Trunks looked towards Gohan and Videl. Gohan made a face and Videl was already in the kitchen, cleaning up. "When do you have to have your bugs, Pan?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"You're kidding, right?" Trunks stared.

She shook her head.

"All right, all right." He stood up. "I'll, um, bring her back when we're finished. Come on, Pan, let's go."

She was out the door like a shot, running and chattering excitedly about myriad subjects. Trunks had no idea how Gohan ever kept up. And she didn't really need his help; she found all of the insects by herself, placing them in tiny boxes. "And this one's a wasp, and this is a bombadier beetle, and this…"

She didn't slow down until they turned back towards home. "Trunks-ojisan?"

"Hmm?"

"Goten-ojisan… he's not coming back, right?" An uncharacteristically solemn expression had blanketed her mobile features. "Even with the Dragonballs?"

Trunks stopped moving. "No, Pan-chan, he's not," he said after a moment.

"I miss him," she said softly.

"Yeah, me too." Trunks shivered and wrapped his arms around himself.

"He used to take me on rides." She grinned. "And he told me stories." She glanced at him sideways. "What did you used to do with him?"

His throat closed up and he couldn't answer right away. "All sorts of things, Pan-chan. All sorts of things." A smile crept onto his face.

He didn't see Gohan watching the two of them through the window, nodding to Videl.

"Oh no. No." Trunks backed away from Goten, hands out in front of him in a gesture of denial. "Not a chance."

"Come on, Trunks, it'll be fun!" Goten's eyes shone, and a look of purely childish and innocent amusement virtually radiated from him.

"Goten, I am not going to let you tie me to a stake so you can 'rescue' me!"

"But Truuuunks-kun…" The book of fairy tales fell unnoticed to the ground, landing open on the picture of the violet-haired princess tied to a stake in front of a fire-breathing dragon battling a knight in shining armor.

"No! It's silly!"

Goten's face fell, and he turned back towards the doorway. "All right." He bent down to pick up the book. Trunks recognized the cover as one that Goten had taken to read to his students earlier in the day. He sighed.

"Goten?" He winced inwardly.

"Yeah?"

"What… um… what should I…" he hesitated, then finished in a rush. "You can tie me to a stake, all right?"

The resulting smile could have rivaled the entire energy output of Satan City. "Really?" Goten grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him out the door. "We gotta go out into the woods, this way…"

Trunks resigned himself to an evening of suffering. At least it made Goten happy, and that was worth it. He held out his wrists for Goten to tie them to a wooden stake in the ground. Of course, had he been in a real captive situation, he could have ripped the rope into miniature shreds and used the pole to remove the heart of the idiot who thought he could mess with a Saiyan… He came out of his brief reverie to notice Goten waiting expectantly. "…What?" he asked after a moment.

"You gotta cry for help. It's how the knight hears you," Goten explained.

Trunks closed his eyes briefly. "Help, help," he said finally. "Help, help."

Goten suddenly reminded Trunks very strongly of Great Saiyaman. "Fear not, beautiful prince, I shall rescue you!" He turned to face an imaginary opponent. "Unhand my, uh, lord, foul demon!" He dodged. "What? You resist?" He danced back and forth with another stick, doing a barely-credible imitation of a fencing match with the "dragon". Every so often he would taunt it, or dodge a "fireball", all the while calling encouragement to Trunks. After a few minutes of watching Goten make a complete idiot out of himself, the absurdity of the situation sank into Trunks, and he began to laugh.

Goten was at his side within seconds. "My lord! What have they done to you?"

Trunks composed himself, and spoke in a high falsetto. "Oh brave knight, rescue me from my captors, for I fear they shall ravish me!"

A look of utter shock blanketed Goten's features momentarily. He recovered rapidly, though, and responded. "My lord, I shall deliver you from the monster's clutches!" With another yell, he leapt back into battle.

The one-sided fight continued, now with Trunks an active vocal participant, until Goten stabbed his stick straight forward and watched his foe fall. "I have vanquished the dragon, my lord. Allow me to free you." He undid the makeshift manacles. "Such fair skin…" He dropped a kiss on the inside of Trunks' wrist. "Allow me, my lord –"

"That was so cute!"

Both half-Saiyans jumped to their feet at the new voice. Marron, the daughter of Krillin and Juuhachigou, stood at the edge of the clearing.

"Uh, Marron, this is –"

"M-Marron, hi –"

She cut them both off with a wave of her hand. "My girlfriend and I were passing through and thought we'd say hello." She smiled. "I must say, I didn't think I'd get this much of a show."

"Eh, heh, heh…" Goten rubbed the back of his head.

Trunks draped an arm around his lover's shoulders. "Why don't you come on in, Marron?"

She giggled and followed the two of them through the door.

"Hello, nice to meet you." Trunks smiled. The annual Capsule Corps. bash was usually organized by his mother, and this year was no different. Employees and their families were encouraged to attend. As the company had grown, so had the party, and it now comprised several hundred people yearly. He peered down the drive. No one else was in the process of approaching the door, so he shut it with a marginal feeling of relief. Relief, because that was the last of the guests. Marginal, because of the sheer numbers of people already in the rented hall. He made his way through the crush, automatically scanning for Goten's ki.

Usually Goten had a prank planned; before Trunks had taken over running the company, he'd thought of the pranks. Once he was responsible for the smooth flow of the event, it was suddenly much less funny to disrupt it.

Goten had decided that it was necessary to liven up the evening, and they had made an annual game to see whether or not Trunks could stop Goten before he managed to pull off whatever his plot was.

Trunks had nearly finished scanning the entire building before he remembered that there was no game this year. The thought didn't bring quite the stab of agony that he was expecting, though.

"Trunks!" His mother smiled, walking up to him. His father was nowhere to be seen, but Trunks could feel Vegeta's ki like a low hum. He hadn't gotten out of attending this year either, then. "I'd like you to meet Tanaka Shiro and his son, Tanaka Hiyaku."

A smile, skin-deep but sufficient, and the appropriate bow passed before Trunks really looked at the man. Tanaka-san was in his early forties, the kind of man who looked to be eminently capable. In fact, Trunks was sure he remembered seeing the man's name recently. "Aren't you in R&D?"

Tanaka-san nodded. "Yes." He didn't have the chance to get out more than a single word before Bulma dragged him off, leaving the man's son staring sheepishly at Trunks.

"Sorry about that." Trunks gestured in his mother's general direction. "She tends to get really into this thing."

"N-no, that's quite all right." The boy shifted his weight and stared at a point over Trunks' shoulder. He was clearly nervous.

Trunks sighed mentally and resigned himself to making polite conversation until he could escape and wander the area. If he tried hard enough, he could avoid really speaking to anybody. "Hiyaku, was it?"

A quick nod answered his question.

"What area do you work in?"

"Oh, I don't work for your company, Briefs-san. I manage the dojo of Mr. Satan."

"How… nice." Trunks couldn't think of a better response. He scanned the crowd, hoping to see someone else he knew.

"He's the greatest!" On the subject of the "World's Greatest Hero", Hiyaku lost his shyness. "He's the best martial artist in the world, and he saved us all. Twice."

"Yeah…" There was a marked level of disinterest in Trunks' voice, but Hiyaku didn't seem to notice.

"I've heard that you used to practice martial arts."

"I still do." Wasn't there anybody here who could provide him with an excuse to leave?

"I might be able to set up a match between you and Mr. Satan." The statement was completely unexpected, and Trunks jerked his gaze back to find Hiyaku staring at him with earnest intensity.

"What?"

"I mean, he's busy and all, but I'm sure I could work you into his schedule." He was serious. Completely and totally serious.

"Uh, no, thanks. I usually spar against my partner to keep in shape." The words came out automatically, a reason not to accept the offer. Trunks had had the "privilege" of fighting Mr. Satan once. It had been enough.

"Partner?" Confusion leaked into Hiyaku's flat dark eyes.

"I mean… I used to." Goten was gone. He blinked against the stinging in his eyes. Goten would have figured out a way to make this more bearable.

"I'm so sorry." Hiyaku placed a hand on Trunks' forearm. "I… I know what it's like to lose someone, Trunks-san."

Trunks couldn't say a word. He glanced down at the placement of the other man's hand, and then at his earnest face. "I…" He looked around helplessly. "I'm not interested, Tanaka-san."

"Oh. I apologize." Hiyaku retracted his hand rapidly.

"Excuse me." Trunks strode through the crowd, barely acknowledging the various greetings, searching for a very specific ki signature. It didn't take him long to find it. "Okaa-san, may I have a word with you?"

"Trunks? Where's Hiyaku?" She smiled, puzzlement etched into her features.

"Back there somewhere." He gestured vaguely. "I need to speak with you. Now."

Bulma threw a reassuring smile at her conversational partners and let Trunks drag her to a quiet stairwell. "What's wrong?"

"You were trying to set me up with him!" Trunks kept his voice down by the barest margin of control. "How could you do that to me?"

"I thought you would welcome a little bit of distraction, Trunks-chan." She smiled again, in a comforting manner, and patted his shoulder.

"I don't want to be distracted from Goten!" Trunks threw her hand off. "He… he was everything, and I don't want to forget him." His voice roughened, staving off tears. Signs of weakness in front of others.

"Trunks…"

"I'm leaving. I'll be back at work on Monday. Good evening, Okaa-san." He stalked out the door and left, half-blinded by tears he was too proud to shed.

"Trunks?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you wanna be when you grow up?"

It was late, and the lights were off. Supposed to be off, anyway. The low-powered flashlight underneath the blanket broke that particular rule. The plan was to stay awake all night long without Chi Chi noticing; if Gohan found out, he wouldn't tell. Goten's mother, on the other hand, had a wrath that was fearsome to behold. The possibility of getting caught only added to the fun.

"Why?"

"Why what?" Goten had apparently forgotten the question already.

"Why do you wanna know?"

Goten shrugged, as best as he was able without dislodging their camouflage. "Kaasan asked Niichan what he was gonna do with his studying."

"Oh." Trunks considered. Being all of seven years old, he hadn't ever given much thought to the future. "Be a fighter like my dad, I guess."

"I wanna be just like Niichan." Goten giggled, and then yawned. "Is having Niichan like having a 'Tousan, Trunks-kun?"

"Um…" Trunks didn't know how to answer. "I guess so," he said after a few moments. Goten didn't say anything. "Goten?"

The younger boy was asleep, spiky hair drooping over one eye. Trunks pushed it out of the way and clicked off the flashlight. It was kind of cold in the room, so he curled up closer to his best friend. It didn't really matter if they fell asleep. There was always another night to try.

The guest room was full of dust. It was never used, and so the door had just stayed shut. As of that morning, however, Trunks had no choice in the matter. As Bulma had succeeded in dragging Vegeta out of town, he was stuck taking care of his fourteen-year-old sister. Not that she needed taking care of, in his opinion. After all, when he had been all of eight years old, he and Goten had had the fate of the world in their metaphorical hands. Bra, at nearly twice that age, could certainly look out for herself for three days. Vegeta had thought differently. Trunks rolled his eyes and resigned himself to watching a hyperactive teenager over the weekend.

The closet was empty, except for a box in one corner. It wasn't particularly heavy, but Trunks didn't recognize it until he saw the soot stains on the lid. He sat down on the floor, slowly, and opened it.

There wasn't much inside. Some papers, and a few pictures. Goten's teaching certificate, sans the glass frame. An empty capsule they'd used to jam the bedroom door shut. The paperback book of fairy tales that Goten had once read to his class. A picture of Goten, with his class, teaching them basic katas. A note that he had written, explaining his tardiness, and the attached apology. A picture of the two of them, standing in the middle of nowhere. Trunks was smiling at the camera, while Goten's hand was sliding towards the back of his head, two fingers extended. A snapshot of Gotenks… when the hell anyone had managed to take it, he had no idea. A panorama shot of Goten chasing him, trademark grin stretched over his face. He looked so happy.

Goten had been happy.

The items were carefully, almost reverently, replaced, and the box sealed with packing tape. It was set inside the back of the closet, and the door shut over it. Trunks opened the blinds, letting sunlight stream into the room.