[complete]

[bluewindofhope.livejournal.com]

Who: Bulma & Trunks
Where: General locations throughout the city
When: Shortly after Bulma arrives, before the event
Rating: PG
Summary: Bulma shows up in Discedo, and Trunks finds that he's going to have a pretty difficult time babysitting his own mother.
the log:

Curled up against the front doors of the high school, Bulma grasped tightly at the metal pipe in her hands; she'd grown accustomed to it's weight, but it was still very hard to swing, and she wasn't sure if she had any real strength to continue fighting. The rain was pouring down almost ruthlessly with no end in sight; she was cold, and she was sure that she'd gotten sick at some point in the day. With the knowledge of even more vicious creatures roaming the city, Bulma's main concern was finding shelter for herself and figuring out how to contact her friends.

Escape was futile. Materials had to be hunted for. She was used to roughing it, but this was just too much. She had no extra clothes, and nothing to brush her hair with, which was driving her absolutely insane. With any luck, the stranger that had offered to help her would share some resources, instead of turning out to be a creepy pedophile.

For Trunks, hardest part so far about being in Discedo was the obvious lack of his powers. It was such a strange thing to feel so weak at all times, to move so slow, and to rely as heavily as he did upon the use of his sword. Though he'd heard from another resident here that there was a way to reverse the effect, he hadn't had a chance to actually make it happen. While normally this wouldn't be so much of an issue, well, certain complications had come up.

As he neared the high school wet from rain, bloody from battle, breathless from running, and annoyed at himself for being all three of these things, he paused momentarily to contemplate what exactly he'd find there. In the simplest sense, it would be his mother. However, the fact that she hadn't recognized his voice at all was unsettling. Even moreso was the fact that she'd asked for Yamucha's help over her own husband's. Had some kind of time warp problem reared its ugly head again? Hopefully it wasn't too bad, but even then, he'd already told quite a few people here his name... and that would cause an extremely uncomfortable problem.

Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, Trunks sheathed his sword on his back with one hand and placed a hand on the door to the high school. He could deal with any complications as they arose, he supposed. Nodding once, he pushed the door open...

...and felt his jaw drop open at the sight he beheld.

She took to brainstorming to try and occupy herself, figuring that it was better to think on what she could do rather than what could eat her for it's next meal. If she couldn’t leave the city, maybe there was a way to communicate with people outside of it. But even then, this place was apparently called America, which she'd never heard of, and the year was far different from her own. Even if she could reach someone outside of the city, it wouldn't be anyone she knew. She bowed her head, resting it onto her knees. Not even Son-kun could save her from this.

Great, she thought, You really have some crappy luck, Bulma. She supposed she should have been thankful for the people who helped her almost immediately, but she was still by herself, and she was still scared.

Bulma had been leaning against the door when it flung open scaring her far more than she usually would be. After all, if these creatures had free reign, then they could probably easily attack safe buildings too. Letting out a scream, she fell face forward--her wet, muddy skirt flying up just as the door opened. She clawed at the floor, before climbing to her feet and dragging her pipe up to try and hold it like a bat. It fell to the ground almost instantly, as she looked up to find a total babe in the doorway. A total babe who was also wearing a Capsule Corporation-brand jacket.

Someone from home.

"Oh," she let her grasp on the pipe loosen, "You're that guy..!" the pipe dropped to the floor, as she clapped her hands together. "Thanks so much for coming out to look for me! You're so brave!"

As an immediate reaction, Trunks gaped and turned to look away. Okay. So his mother was about thirty-five years younger than he remembered her being. Not only that, but seeing up her skirt was quite possibly the last thing he'd ever wanted to see in his life. He felt his face grow hot at the idea; oh god, there was something so completely and utterly wrong about this whole situation.

He stepped into the building completely and shut the door behind him, searching very carefully for his next words. It would probably be a very bad idea to bring up the fact that Bulma was, in fact, his mother. However, it would also probably be a very bad idea to flat-out lie about who he was. He couldn't very well use the vow of silence he'd used the first time he'd met a young version of his mother-- especially since he felt this extremely strong obligation to take her back to his apartment and let her stay with him. After all, he couldn't just leave her to fend for herself, not like this.

So what now? A fake name? Risk his real name? Or... something else? First thing was first, though. He had to get her out of there.

"Please come with me," he said in a serious tone. Yeah. He'd deal with it later.

A sheepish grin seemed to play across her lips, but it fell a few moments later at his tone. She had remembered where she was, then, and the upset of it all semed to set in once more. On top of that, this guy--whoever he was--seemed really badly hurt. She picked the pipe up once again, and shouldered her bag completely. "Okay," she said, "But, hey, how do you know me? You're wearing a capsule corporation jacket, but I've never seen you before. Do you work for my dad? Are you, like, just a big fan of the company? You didn't take that off a dead body, did you?"

She quirked a brow momentarily; suspicion began to rise, though it had been there for some time. "Tell me something before we go. Anything." She had a feeling that she'd be safe with him, despite all of this, and it wasn't just because he was cute. He seemed responsible, and something, maybe in the way he carried himself, seemed to comfort her.

Trunks offered Bulma a weak smile. He did want to tell her something about himself, but there wasn’t much he could say. But he figured he could maybe tell her one little white lie that maybe wasn’t so much of a lie as it was a stretching of the truth. After all, he might be in here for the long haul. Hadn’t someone on the network say he’d been here for over half a year?

“I don’t work for your father, no,” he said. “My mother does, but I doubt you’d know her.”

It wasn’t entirely untrue. His mother did work for Capsule Corp, and Bulma didn’t exactly get the opportunity to see who she’d be or what she’d be like by the time she became a mother. And besides, he wondered just how many of her father’s employees she actually knew; he’d always gotten the distinct feeling from his mother that when she was younger, she was always so caught up in her own devices to be too concerned about much of the world around her.

With that, he offered a hand to her.

“We should get going,” he said.

"Oh," she tapped a finger against her bottom lip, furrowing her brows. Really, the only employees she knew well were those that worked directly under her father, and since she hadn't exactly visited the company for quite some time, she couldn't be sure as to who the guy was talking about. She used to know a few house maids, but they were replaced by robots. Robots that cooked amazing dinners.

With a shrug, she took his hand and nodded, "Well, she's got a great taste for fashion if she picked that out for you. I didn't know we made jackets like that!" She grinned, and looked towards the doors, hesitating. More rain, more running, and more danger. The running and the danger wouldn't have been so much trouble for her if the rain weren't there. She wrinkled her nose, and waited for him to lead the way.

The trip back to Trunks’s apartment wasn’t as bad as he’d expected it to be. He’d heard that the rain was able to keep some of the monsters at bay, which was nice, especially since he’d had to carry a bit of cargo with him this time. If only he could’ve just flown back, life would have been so much easier. But there’d only been one or two confrontations, and he hadn’t been much surprised when he found his young mother handling a bad situation like a champ.

As he let the both of them in, he started to run ideas through his head as to what exactly he’d say to her. He still hadn’t given her anything that resembled a name or anything to identify him by. This whole place was so strange; it was not only a planet all of its own, but also seemingly of its own timeframe. Was it possible that here there’d be no chance to destroy his eventual existence? This wasn’t just a tiny tweak in the past like him showing up and talking to Goku— his young mother had been completely removed from her life all together. With that in mind, was it also possible that he wasn’t supposed to be born in this world? Was it possible that he, himself was supposed to be the only existing factor of who he was?

He frowned. If only he hadn’t told other people his name… Maybe he’d be lucky and they’d forget. Either way, he wasn’t going to jump up and start lying to Bulma. He’d just have to play off of whatever she gave him.

“Feel free to make yourself at home,” he said lightly.

Bulma had been terrified of what inhabited this city when she was alone. Now that she had someone with her, she felt far more confident; someone had her back, and with that in mind, she managed to get through without screaming once. Yelping once or twice, yes, but certainly not screaming. She even managed to help fend off the danger, and they made it to his apartment safely.

For the most part, few normal girls would hurry to run off to a strange man's apartment with no supervision. Bulma, on the other hand, was far from normal. She had already ventured out by herself in her own world, joined up with a strange boy who could turn into a gigantic ape, and made friends with both a strange (but insanely good-looking and rugged) young man and a couple of talking animals. She wondered to herself if she trusted people too easily, but brushed the thought away. This situation was far different from any she had faced before, and she wasn’t about to run away from the one person who seemed to promise her a safe haven.

She left her makeshift weapon outside of the front door, glancing around momentarily before setting her bag onto the floor and letting out a long sigh. She was a total mess, with bruises, scrapes and cuts littering her skin, but she was still alive. "Thanks," she finally said, "I mean, really." She wasn't fantastic a expressing gratitude, but she offered him a brighter smile than she first intended to, and stretched a little.

"So, are you gonna tell me your name now, or do I have to fight it out of you? How old are you, anyway? And, if you're from where I live--I mean, I don't know, I just.." she paused, and frowned a bit, unsure of where she was going with her thought. Given his condition and familiarity with their surroundings, she was sure that he was just as clueless as to what to do about their situation as she was.

“Don’t worry, you’re safe with me,” he smiled. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He began to make himself a bit more comfortable as he talked, unclipping his sword from his back and resting it gently up against the wall. As he moved, he caught glimpse of the bit of roughing up Bulma had gotten on the way back.

“There’s running water here,” he said, “but we’re supposed to use it sparingly. Apparently it’s a precious commodity here.”

Evading the rest of her questions entirely, he shrugged his jacket off and idly tossed it down on the couch before taking a seat next to it, letting out a heavy breath. He was honestly unsure as to how much longer he would be able to dance around this, but this had all come up so suddenly. At least the last time it’d happened, he’d had time to plan. This time… well, this time trumped pretty much anything else he’d had to figure out in quite a long time.

“There’s two bedrooms in this apartment,” he went on to explain. “Go ahead and settle into the spare one.”

Bulma crossed her arms at his answers; he was hiding something, but it was going to take more than just simple questioning to get it out of him. Still, she figured she could sneak it on him later. For the time being, she had to rest. Setting her bag down into a corner, she looked toward the room that seemed less inhabited, and nodded. "Alright." She wasn't quite sure of what he had to clean up with, and she was certainly short on any kind of supplies. A feeling of helplessness brushed her momentarily, before she stood up straight and looked to him.

"Just your name?" she asked, as she turned to move into her room. "Come on. Even your first name? A nickname? Maybe the name of your dog? I'm sure you don't want me calling you 'Hey,' all the time, so come on! I'm Bulma," she waved, " See? Hi."

With a worn grin, she raised her eyebrows and waited. She'd rest after she got an answer, but for the moment, she wasn't going to move. Unless, of course, she passed out. Then, she guessed she'd have to move a little to hit thr ground.

Trunks offered Bulma a brief half-smile. He almost felt bad about not being able to tell her anything, and wanted to give her some of the answers that she sought. But there would be a time and place for this, later, after everything had calmed down a bit. The poor girl looked ready to collapse, and Trunks had quite a few things to take care of himself. After he’d gotten a bit of a better bearing on the situation, then maybe…

“You wanted to know my age, right?” he asked. “I’m twenty-three. Now go and rest; you need it.”

That being said, he averted his eyes and adjusted his weight to sit more comfortably on the couch. It was his way of indicating that this conversation was over.

Bulma's eyes were half-closed as he replied, before she finally gave in. They were both in terrible condition, and she knew she needed to rest. She could put her plans into action later. Pushing herself up the stand, she gave a small shrug and turned. "Thanks," she said, once more, "Feel better."

With that, she slipped into her room and closed the door behind her, the only sound coming from it being that of her body thumping onto the mattress.