Author's Notes: ... *doesn't really know what to say here* ... *wings it* LIKE, OMFG, IT'S SO TOTALLY DONE! AHAHAHAHAHAH! IN YOUR EYE, REAL LIFE! I SO WIN! I AM THE BEST EVER! ... well, maybe not, but I finally did get it done!
Yes, you heard me right. Here it is. The final chapter of "All You Have", in its entirety. I just sat down one night, and it all came to me, for some strange, strange reason. The shounen-ai god smiles upon me this day. He says: "Ah, yes, grasshopper, you have completed your life's quest. Now, here are your other life's quest: that story here, and that one there, and this one here..." But that's not my point! My point is that this story is completed! Wee!
Can you tell how self-satisfied I am? ^_^;; I'm pathetically proud of myself.
But! I probably would have never gotten this done if it weren't for all of you wonderful, wonderful people who read and reviewed! Love you all! Raidne, Deanybean, Rez, Son Halo, newtypeshadow, Yami Kaosu—and various other people I've met because of this silly lil' ficcy. Hugs for all! —I said, group hug, damn it! ^_^
Just so you know, my writing ability has drastically improved because of this ficcy. Not only do I focus on getting peeps in-char a bit (a bit XD) more, but just overall, I like to think it's better. You know, gained experience or something. *cough* But enough of that crud. I really enjoyed writing this, especially with such neat reviewers supporting me despite the long hiatus between updates. It's almost sad to see it come to a close.
Anyway, this chapter skips around quite a bit, trying to encompass a lot of time passage-ness, or something. And... it may not be exactly the type of ending you were wanting. But hey, it's Juunana and Trunks! What else were you expecting? ^_^ *shirks from any projectiles that may come her way*
Hope you enjoy! XD Thanks again, and maybe even review this to let me know how I did! ^_^ Love all!
"All You Have"
by: Rosalyn Angel
I've talked before, about time and how weird it is. About how our seconds are limited and how it gives our lives meaning; it's the reason why we go on as we do. I understand that. I may not have before, but I do now.
And with time comes change. They go hand-in-hand.
I hate change.
After our romp in the snow, the days wearily passed by. Night came earlier and the skies were usually grey. Not to mention it was butt-the-hell freezing, but I didn't care so much anymore. Why? Because I had my jacket. Yes, you heard that right. My jacket.
I kept it with me wherever I went. I had to, or else surely you'd steal it back. And you wanted it back too; it was rightfully yours, after all. Sometimes we'd grapple for it, like we did the first time, and to my dismay you generally won. But you could never rip the thing off my back—didn't wanna tear it and all. So I always emerged victorious, no matter the result of the wrestling. This made me a warm and happy android.
And that brings me to something else: you. After the night in the snow, you slowly... actually, I dunno what happened to you. You started becoming a little different after The Kiss. If it actually had something to do with me, I don't know; besides, it was just a kiss. Nothing big, besides that I had my satisfaction of being better on handling emotions than humans. I just had to keep like I was, and everything would be great. I was content. Even if you surprised me by acting a little weird.
It wasn't a bad surprise, or a bad different. It just caught me off-guard, like that smile of yours. I mean, seriously, I—Juunana—made you—Trunks—smile. You can't tell me that isn't a little queer.
The way you were acting, compared to before, could only be described as more accepting. You cooked an equal share of food for me; sometimes you even did my laundry without me bugging you to hell and back. When I sang along with the radio, you only frowned and shook your head, then continued on your way. When I pulled a prank, you smiled your smile; and though we still exchanged few words, living in comfortable silence, the air was almost visibly less tense than it had been before.
You were even a tad more playful, in my opinion. Besides the grapples for the jacket, which slowly died down as you reluctantly accepted that it was now mine, you did things you wouldn't have done before. Not necessarily pranks, but just little things.
I remember when I was again listening to the radio: you came in unexpectedly, glared, and changed the station on me. I gawked as my anger-driven was switched to something softer, slower, and ultimately depressing. Scoffing I reached to turn the radio's knob back to where it had been, but out of the corner of my eye I saw you raising an eyebrow and boring your dark blue eyes into my head. Immediately I felt like some type of naughty child, so I slouched in my seat, crossed my arms, and pouted. You seemed pleased and went into the kitchen. Several times I considered changing the station, but in the end I figured the music wasn't so bad. But it still wasn't cool.
By the way, if you were wondering about Johnathan and Julia, I'll have you know that I actually listened to them sometimes. I was curious; I wondered if they had any other bright ideas for me. Unfortunately or not, they just dragged on about the same basic thing, got married, had kids, and happily drove off into the sunset. Meh, gag me. But anyway...
I pondered your strange behavior before deciding to take the easy way out and read your journal papers. Impatiently I waited until you were out gathering food, or away helping rebuild the cities because "the plaguing androids were gone" (stupid, stupid humans), then I slunk into your room and rummaged through your desk as usual. Eventually I found what seemed to be a good one, and plopped my rear into the chair to read.
It was about the kiss. To my amusement, it had been your first one, but the significance of that to humans was lost to me. You went on about how you weren't used to it, and how you weren't sure of what to do. But what intrigued me was that you admitted you "liked the comfort it brought." I was the only one around then who offered such, I suppose, and humans are pitiful after all; they need that so-called closeness. And I'd be lying to say I hadn't enjoyed that night in the snow: it had been a small thrill, and I needed my thrills where I could get them. The only problem was that I hadn't kissed you since then.
Well, I thought, I'll just have to do that more often.
When you returned that evening, you were welcomed back with a smooch.
So days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Winter was replaced by flowering spring, and that was slowly turning into summer. My jacket was retired into my closet and you allowed it to stay there, wearing instead your other one with the ripped-off sleeves. The rain showers made the ground muddy, and probably harder to work in around the construction areas. That was why you weren't gone as much, and such was good, because sometimes I felt insanely bored when you weren't there.
I took care to provide you with more kisses: I found myself liking them more and more. The thing is, I was always the one to initiate it, and always the one to lead it. You were awkward and rather clumsy, but after you loosened your stiff muscles, closed your eyes, and let me do as I will, the awkwardness was almost tantalizing. It made me feel in control, like again I had power over you. And to think to a certain point I actually did. It made me feel kind of high to hear you moan and know that I had caused it.
But we never did get too intimate; I didn't quite know how (or else I would have, believe me), and you just couldn't. I don't think you truly understood why you let me kiss you. I don't think I truly understand why I kissed you... I just did, and it felt good, so I kept doing it. Besides, you were mine, and I had to lay my claim somehow.
So that's how we were for a while. I didn't think much of it, just content to be where I was and to have what I had. But my view on that shifted a little, one rainy spring night, when again I read your journal.
I sat in that plain wooden chair, my back to the window and facing the desk. A light rain shower had started a few minutes after you left to get more food and other necessities. Briefly I smirked. You had gotten caught in the rain. Heh. The evidence of such was the pitter-patter of the drops against the window which revealed the blackening sky. The stars and moon were covered by clouds—a rather dreary night to be outside.
Once again I was passing time going through the papers scattered on your desk. They usually proved to be pretty entertaining. Finally I settled on a rather lengthy journal entry—looks like you had been thinking again. This particular piece of paper was a little crinkled around the edges, like you had considered throwing it away, but it was flat enough to be legible.
My ice blue eyes scanned it, searching for any phrases that stood out. And I did find one, believe me, but now I wish I hadn't.
It read: "It's very obvious now that I think about it. Ever since I first saw him, he hasn't aged a day."
I paused. Yeah, so? I thought. Big whoop.
"It's weird, thinking how much I've grown up, and he hasn't..."
And then I understood where it was headed. Yeah, I could remember you from when you were a crying infant in your mother's arms. I've seen you as a determined youth, a rebellious teenager, and a pretty messed-up young man. But then I look in the mirror, and I see me, the same as I was so many odd years ago. Sometime before I would have liked that, seeing that I hadn't changed, but it all suddenly hit me real hard in the face.
There was one thing I knew I could never stop from happening, one thing I couldn't defend against even with a high power level, the one thing I knew that would take you away from me while I just sat there stupidly and watched this life change all over again.
And that was dear ol' Father Time.
Time, I mused, the source of all change in the whole dumb world. That just figured. Right when I thought everything would be perfect forever, the most obvious thing right under my nose decides to crawl up my nostrils and into my brain. It was a most unpleasant realization. I knew what change caused—a whole crapload of stuff happens, stuff I wasn't willing to go through again. But there was nothing I could do about it besides wait, and oh, how I despise waiting.
I was unusually pissed off that evening when you came back with the supplies. I hated everything at that point, hated how I survived the effects of my sister's death just to find out I had to survive another—I'm lazy, thank you, so one time is enough. Yet you made me feel all these human emotions and then decided to have the gall to age and die on me? Who did you think you were, tossing me around like that? You started this, killing my sister yet leaving me alive, all because of your own insecurities. Everything was your fault.
Through my confused and enraged mind, I still found you upon your return putting away the food, and I grabbed you and turned you around. I think you said something, still wet from the rain and your hair heavy around your face, maybe asked what I was doing; but whatever it was, it didn't matter, because I forcefully kissed you and ceased any words you had left. You gave a small surprised cry into my mouth, probably wondering why I was being so rough, but I only shoved you back against the counter, locking your wrists against it with my hands. I felt your familiar warmth and breathed your familiar breath, and it calmed me just enough to relax. You seemed to sense my mind dulling into blissful pleasure, and kissed back in your own naive way.
I had never so strongly felt my possessive nature as I did then, not even when I thought that Cell could have killed you, because age was inevitable, and I wanted to shout at time that you were only mine.
Unfortunately, time didn't care to listen.
It happened gradually. At first I didn't notice the subtle things, like the barely visible crow's feet at the corners of your eyes—probably from so much glaring. And dare I say you even had little lines from smiling, because you did that in abundance later on. I tried not to notice as the years went by, because I had pushed the notion to the back of my head to concentrate on you, just you, my twin, my mirror opposite, my obsession.
So long had passed, I was even able to freely walk among the growing populace, and no one bothered to glance my way. Of course I never used ki in front of them; you forbade it. Though, early on, one little girl did kick me in the knee and claim I was a stupid android before her mother scolded her and dragged her away.
Yeah, you thought that was real funny, didn't you? Good thing we only got a few stares from that. She was real lucky I didn't chop her legs off. Then again, if I had, it would have only proved her point.
But, back to you. What to say, oh, what to say? Hm, I know.
I remember the day death overtook you.
Years passed like a blur, and I trained my eyes on you as often as I could. Surprisingly you aged beautifully—I thought, maybe, it was because of your Saiyan blood. But whatever it was, your body stayed firm, your skin tan, and your eyes a dark blue. Yes, there were the lines of age in your face, but only there to accent your features. Your hair forever was at your shoulders and lavender, but there were streaks of white, just enough to make you look wiser, not older.
But I knew you were older. I had seen the seasons pass, seen your walk grow a little slower, even though you remained independent, just as you were at age eighteen. It might have amazed me, to see your stubborn will, to hear your voice still low, scratchy, and strong... but it was still weaker than before, and we both knew it.
By Saiyan standards, you were probably still rather young. Maybe even by human standards—I don't know. The point is, you were tired. Even with me around to kiss you, to feel possessive over you and make you smile, you were still tired, and I hated it.
It was winter again. Snowing, even. Such fond memories we had of snow. So we lay out in the lawn, me in my stolen jacket, and you in a thick turtleneck, side-by-side, simply very used to having the other there. It all felt so normal then, to just watch the snowfall from above, feeling cold on the ground and making people-shaped indents in the white scenery. Maybe you could say I got used to the cold as well. But whatever.
Night. It was very clearly night. It was almost ritual for us to do this, like a weird way of remembering how our relationship (could you call it that?) evolved unexpectedly in the winter so long ago. But, watching the heavens, I realized I didn't quite know what you felt towards me. Ever since that one journal entry, I had veered away from them as a source for your thoughts. So that left me wondering, but I just never bothered to ask. I went on my way, doing what I did, and you did yours. That was all. Life was life. Normal was normal.
And time was change.
"It's nice," I heard you say quietly. "The snow and sky, I mean."
It looked the same to me as it did every year. "Yeah, I guess."
I heard you take in a shaky breath, and I turned my head to look at you. Bits of snow stuck to my black hair. You eyes were closed—I saw the crow's feet. I saw the white in your hair that was not snow, and then I instantly just knew.
"It's been a long time," you murmured. "I wonder how mom and Gohan are doing."
"They're fine," I bit out. Don't know why.
"I wonder what they think of me now, lying here with an android..."
I found reason to smirk. "They probably think you're plain crazy."
I heard a chuckle. "Yeah... It is crazy."
There was quiet. It was always so quiet during winter nights. And then the quiet grew too long, and I came to hate it. I came to hate a lot of things.
It wasn't unexpected, not at all. But when you turned your head to me, I couldn't help but stare numbly. What else was I supposed to do? I'm not a sentimental human.
And so, you gave me your last smile, and slowly died in the silence.
That's it. Here I am. At the end of it all, here I am. It's still snowing, I'm still kneeling in front of this rock, and, most importantly of all, you're still dead.
Are you happy now? I hope you are. It took a lot of effort to bury you, you know, so you better appreciate it. The task itself wasn't hard, I suppose, but still...
I hate change. I hate time. I hate about everything right now. I hate my sister, I hate the cave we used to live in, I hate your house, I hate your mother, I hate you. I feel bitter because I feel a lot more than an android should, and it's your fault.
I should be destroying humans with my sister right now, but I can't anymore, because it'd feel too weird without her around. It wouldn't be the same, especially if there's no one strong like you to fight me.
It's actually really cold right now, I hope you know. I guess you don't though, being so snug underground. Well, your jacket serves some purpose. It also smells like you, like lilacs. I think I'm beginning to hate it too.
So you like my side of the story? I know you were wondering how everything turned out the way it did. Truthfully, so was I. I would have liked to hear your side from you, not just the journal. I always liked getting you to admit stuff, after all. But it's a little too late for that, isn't it?
Undoubtably your story would have been different. You probably thought higher of me than I actually am. You probably felt something towards me, like in that stupid radio drama.
Let's get one thing straight though. I never loved you. Love and need are both very different things. I needed you, but I never loved you.
... you were all I had.
Finally the man stands from the snow-covered ground. He stares down at the simple boulder placed as a gravestone, mouth a straight line, and then turns on his heel. There he stays for a while longer, hands in his pockets, until he walks away, the falling snow covering his footsteps as if he were never there.