Author's Notes: Do you know how HARD it is to keep Juunana and Trunks in character but get them together at the same time!? AAAGGHHHHH!! But, nevertheless, I think I got something worked out. Anyway (and unfortunately), if Juunana seems a little out of character at any one point, I'm sorry. I tried. And it's also from his point of view. This story is set in the Mirai timeline and everything is the same as it happened on Dragonball Z, except that I changed one thing that seemed to have thrown off what happens after Trunks comes back after the Cell Games. ^_^ You'll see what I mean, I suppose. And blast it all, I refuse to write Mirai Trunks with his short hair! Therefore, for this, he didn't cut his hair before he went back to his timeline. HA! Somewhat AU, not too much. Enjoy!

Pairing: Mirai Juunana/Mirai Trunks, shounen-ai

"All You Have"

~chapter one~

by: Rosalyn Angel, aka Rose Angel

As I watched my sister's ashes float down around you, I knew you were stronger than me. I knew you could, if you wished so, rip me limb from limb and watch my circuits spark and my blood flow. I knew you could merely stand in place and be unharmed if I were to riddle you with my strongest punches. I knew I didn't stand a chance, just like my sister hadn't. And you knew it too.

So why? Why didn't you blast me to pieces? I am an android. I am a murderer. I slaughtered thousands-- no, millions. All with a smile on my face. I killed your father and friends, even your best friend. Gohan, wasn't it? You screamed curses at my sister and me in so many battles when you were losing. You threatened us, you wished us to damnation, you hated us. So why didn't you get rid of me like you did my sister? Why did you lower your hand after preparing a ki blast to obliterate me?

With my mouth hanging open and wide eyes and twitching hands, I watched as that golden aura faded away and your hair fell back down to your shoulders in a tumbling wave of lavender. That was the first time I had seen you in a span of several days, but you looked so much older. Taller, more muscular, with a deadly scowl that I hadn't seen on your face before. The most obvious thing was that your hair was grown to your shoulders, partly covering your face from view. But even through those strands, I could see your cold eyes. Deep blue and hard, without a hint of happiness in them as they bore into me. I could tell you hated me. It was very plain to see.

And all you said was, "Follow me."

I could have run away, yes. I could have attacked you full force when you had your back turned, of course. But what good would it have done me? You were far stronger. If I ran, you'd easily catch me. If I attacked, you'd easily put me in my place. It probably didn't matter whether I made it (to wherever you were going) bloodied or not.

But there was one thing I understood well: if I followed the demands, however degrading they may be, I had a chance of living. My sister said once that I love life. And I do. In whatever sick twisted way, I do. So I followed you to the air. Sorry, sis, but I'm afraid you'll have to be alone in death for a while.

In the air, I even knew that you didn't want me to fly beside you. So I followed a little behind but not far. If I slowed down to get farther behind, then you'd slow down to keep the distance between us the same. I figured that was because I had no ki to sense to make sure I was still doing as told, so you had to listen to the winds to conclude I was indeed behind you. You didn't want to have to look at me to make sure I was still there.

It was only a few minutes before you nodded your head back at me silently then pointed to the ground. I got the idea and spiraled down after you to land in front of a dome-shaped building with cracked windows and worn black letters on the side. I squinted my eyes to try to read them but could only pick out a few letters like C, S and R. It was then I realized that you had led me to your home when you opened the creaky door and stepped inside. Only a blue-eyed glance in my direction was to tell me to step in also.

It hadn't occurred to me at the time, but now that I think about it... Yeah, it was weird that you didn't call out something like, "Mom, I'm home!" or at least a joyous sound for destroying my sister (I growled at the thought but contained myself. After all, I love life). Maybe you didn't want to alarm her when she walked over to you and saw me or maybe-- I was making up possible excuses back then. It hadn't dawned upon me to think that she was dead.

So in my ignorance, I scanned around the rooms for her as I followed you to the back of the house. It's not that I cared; I was only curious. To my knowledge, neither my sister nor I had killed her, so I just assumed she was alive and well. When I didn't spot her anywhere, I asked you, "Where is your 'endearing' mother?"

You grunted and gave me a simple, "She went out."

I was satisfied with that answer for a while. But after days of "being out," I understood just what "out" meant. I'm getting off the topic here. Let's trail back.

You led me into what was apparently your mother's lab. The common person might have been awestruck at the inventions that were "in progress" and littered about the counter tops and even the floor. But I wasn't common. My own design outmatched any of the other machines in the room, so I wasn't impressed too much.

But I was surprised when you picked something off from the counter and held it toward me. It looked like a metal wristband, but I didn't have time to look at it thoroughly until it wobbled and snapped from your fingers and tightly onto my wrist. It was dreadfully cold and I didn't care for how tightly latched on it was. It was thin and smooth like a skintight bracelet, and most of all, it annoyed me.

I reached up my other hand to pry the thing off, but as soon as I was ready to rip it away, a jolt was sent up my arm and through my body. Just so you know, it was painful. It brought me to my knees, almost to the point I couldn't move or do much at all except for gasp. I tried to bear against the jolts but that just sent more.

"Relax," I heard you say. I figured if I relaxed though, that would make me feel the full force of the jolts, but I guessed I wanted to try anything then to get it to stop. So I obeyed, and to my amazement, the pain vanished. I sat, stunned.

Your shadow towered over me. I looked up from my place on the hard floor to see you glaring at me as always. You said, "A device my mother was working on to contain you and Juuhachi in case you two couldn't be destroyed. It's magnetic, so it'll stay on you. And if you try anything funny, it'll sense your muscles tensing and then... you already know what it does. You can't fight or fly. So I suggest you stay here for a while."

I listened to your speech warily. You were practically describing my fate and I was almost regretting following you. But, I was alive. I'd figure a way to kill you so I could start my reign again... I was going to have to do a lot of figuring.

Over the course of the next few days, I never left the house. I didn't eat (didn't need to), I didn't talk to you, though I did take advantage of your shower (yay for waterproof torture mechanisms that cling to your wrist...), and I did listen to your radio, which you disliked because I sung along. That was why I sang. I kind of wished for a TV, but I figured one of my latter attacks had wiped out most TV stations. That was one action of mine, the only one, that I guess I truly regretted.

You didn't seem to do much either. You often kept a watchful eye on me. When you weren't doing that, you either crammed food into your mouth, slept, or trained. On the matter of sleeping, I stayed in the guest room. The room had what living needed but otherwise, it was bare. No personal touch added. Except for a few clothes I "borrowed" from you sprawled out on the floor.

We didn't speak a word to each other. We weren't friends, so why would we? I knew my place and had a desire to live, so I stayed in line. God, what did I reduce myself to back then?

It was over the few days that I began to wonder just where your mother had gone "out" to. Finally, the conclusion that she was dead hit me. As to how she died, I hadn't the faintest. I didn't bother to ask you, because I knew you wouldn't tell me. So I silently pondered. It could have been anything from a disease to a freak accident. Humans die so easily.

It was one night, just about when my eyes were going to close in slumber, that I was sure your mother had died. It had been about a week since that wretched thing had attached to my wrist, and a week's worth of trying to figure out how to get away safely. I had considered just walking away when you were sleeping, but without flight, I would never get too far. You'd effortlessly find me, probably be pissed off, and then would rip me to shreds. I would have gotten away, true, but not safely.

I'm straying from my topic again. Anyway, about your mother... I was just about to fall asleep when I heard a peculiar sound. At first I tried to ignore it (the sound was muffled, barely audible), but curiosity got the better of me. So I slipped on my shirt since I tended to sleep in my jeans, and quietly crept into the hall. I paused to determine where the sound was coming from and decided to journey farther down the dark corridor. I studied each door until I came across one that had previously always been locked. I pressed my ear to it and found that the source of the sound was inside and it was clearer also. My dark eyebrows knitted; it was almost a-- sobbing?

I carefully turned the doorknob, my mind already guessing what I would find, or maybe my mind was just playing tricks on me. Whatever it was, I opened the door and prayed that the creaking hadn't disturbed what was inside. I peeked through the little crack I had made between the door and its frame and spied what looked like a bedroom. I had, ever since arriving there, wondered what was in that room and why it was always locked. So with the opportunity laid out before me, and to find the source of the sound (I could guess, but I had to see it with my own eyes), I almost eagerly opened the door farther and stepped fully into the room.

It was you. The first thing I saw when I entered was you. Even through the inky blackness, I saw your form huddled up against the side of a large bed, its blankets and pillows neatly arranged, while one of your hands tightly clenched the side of the comforter spilling over the edge of the mattress. Your long hair was tousled as if you had been tearing at it and your jacket and pants were wrinkled. I understood that you hadn't dressed for the night yet, let alone actually fallen asleep. I hadn't seen you much earlier that day, so I figured that was where you had kept yourself hidden.

I finally managed to take my eyes away from you to confirm that the room was indeed a bedroom. A closet full of clothes, a dresser, a carpet, a-- a closet full of-- women's clothes? Ah, I see. I knew right then. The surroundings, plus your horror-stricken face (which was dried of tears strangely. There was sobbing, but no tears), it was all too clear.

"She's dead," I said casually. Your head whipped around to look at me, but you stayed sitting on the floor. Probably hadn't heard me walk in. "Your mother, that is. I thought so. A week is a little too long to be 'out.'"

That was when you stood up with a forced scowl. I could tell that all you wanted to do was look sad. You're a poor actor, I hope you know.

"You say it as if it's nothing!" you said to me. Those were your first words to me in a few days. I shrugged.

"It is nothing to me," I replied like that was the normal way to answer. "I didn't know her, so why should I care?"

You growled dangerously. You weren't acting anymore. "You were probably her murderer!"

I knew I wasn't. I made it my business to see the face of who I was killing, even when I attacked a crowd of people. Each face held a different expression, and I basked in them all. So if I hadn't killed her then...

I remembered.

"She was killed when you were gone for a while. I don't know where you went, but I do know what happened."

Or I could guess. You see, Doctor Gero not only enhanced my sister's and my fighting ability, but our minds too. We were intelligent. We may not seem like it, but the gears in our heads turn fast. I now admit though, that my stubborn pride got in the way of some of my thinking.

"While you were gone," I began with a tone that sounded like 'once upon a time,' "your mother probably had just finished this device you see on my wrist. She wanted to congratulate herself so she wrote you a note just in case you came back before she did, and she went out to go shopping."

Don't you even think for a minute that I didn't see that small piece of paper you kept in your pocket. I may not have been able to read it, but I knew it was there. That's a very important piece of paper for you to keep... isn't it?

"You came back and saw the note and figured she would be home any minute. A day passed but nothing happened. Around the same time, my sister and I had a little quarrel about her wanting to go to a store, so we went separate ways. I came back to find the store in ruins and all she said was this: 'Some blue-haired hag pissed me off.' I learned nothing more than that, but I bet I know just who that hag was."

At this point, you had your fist raised and shaking at me. You had a wild look in your eye and for a moment I doubted I was going to live to the next day, but I pressed on. You always had the best expressions.

"A few days passed for you and you waited, growing more fearful with each vanishing minute. Thoughts crept into your head about her being dead, but you couldn't accept it even though you also couldn't feel her ki, as insignificant as it was, anywhere."

Sis frequently said I had a natural talent to drill into people's heads.

"Then you started to accept it, but didn't like it at all. My sister and I attacked a nearby city, the radio announced it, you confronted us, and we both know what happened then."

I could have gone on...

You bolted over to me and held me by my throat. A flick of your wrist and you could break my neck. There was a primal look on your face; I simply smiled.

"You can't kill me, Trunks."

... I understood so much more.


A man stands, transfixed. His skin is as flawless as the day he became a teenager. His clothes, though not baggy, blow back from the gentle breeze. He has no emotion on his face as his eyes are pointed down and his arms hang limply by his sides. He has not moved for an entire day, except to blink.

~end of chapter one~