Chapter One

Summary: In Mirai-Trunks' future, we get a glimpse of what could be Maron and her daughter. If so, why doesn't she exist in the DBZ timeline? Somewhat darker than my usual work, and deals with very adult issues.

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z is not mine, more's the pity.

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The kid was young. He was slouched against the wall beside the entrance to her building, arms folded across his chest, cool blue eyes following everyone who walked past. He wasn't particularly tall, but there was something about him – an attitude – that suggested he was not someone to be messed with. His face was almost too pretty for a boy's, a problem compounded by the long purple hair tied back in a pony tail. His voice was smooth and cultured as he inquired:

"Maron Sweet?"

Ten years ago the sight of him would have had Maron drooling and making space for him in her long list of boyfriends. However, that was ten years ago and she liked to think she'd grown up a little since then.

"Look," she said, hands on hips. "Before you get any ideas, you're much too young for me. It's nothing personal, but younger men make me look old and wrinkly. So I suggest you forget about having any chance with me and move on."

"I'm not – it's not – " He went red. "I'm here about Krillen."

Maron blinked. She'd expected Krillen to respond to her message personally, rather than sending a messanger. But still, any response was better than none.

"Oh. In that case…" she grabbed the kid's arm. "Lets go get coffee."

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Maron took him to the little shop round the corner and flirted with the waitor a little to get her favourite table. She ordered a latte with skim milk, whilst the kid stared at the menu, baffled.

"What, you've never had coffee before?" She said.

"No," he said quickly. "It's just… I didn't know there were so many kinds!"

His confusion was actually kind of adorable in a kid-brother kind of way, so she ordered a cappuchino for him. As the waitress left, Maron leaned forward in her chair.

"So," she said eagerly. "What did Krillen say?"

The kid cleared his throat.

"I'm not actually here on Krillen's behalf…"

"Oh," she said in disappointment. "Are you sure? He didn't say anything at all? Did he get my message?"

"Message?" He looked as baffled as her. "What message?"

"I left him a message a couple of days ago. With that funny old man. Ronda, or Rash, or something like that…"

"Roshi."

"Yeah, I guess. Look, if you're not here for Krillen, why are you here?"

He gazed steadily at her with blue eyes too old for his face.

"I'm from the future."

It was so well-delivered, his tone so serious, she actually believed him for a moment. Then she laughed.

"Oh, please! Like I haven't heard that one before."

"I'm serious. I'm from the future – a world where most of humanity is in dead or hiding. A world where machines have – "

"Latte and a cappachino?" The waitress's voice interrupted them.

"That's us!" Maron chirped. She beamed at the steaming cup the waittress set down. "Yum!"

She took a sip, savouring the caffeine hit, and looked across at the kid who was developing an odd twitch in his eyebrow.

"Don't you like your cappachino?" she said solicitiously.

"Maron, I'm trying to talk to you about something serious… "

"But you haven't even tried it. You eat the froth with a spoon."

"I'm not here about the – " He glanced down at the cup, topped with creamy froth, sprinkled with sugar and cocoa. "Froth?"

"It's very nice," she assured him. She watched him pick up the spoon. Giving her a suspcious look, he dipped it in the milky froth and raised it to his lips. He touched his tongue to it tenatively, as if it might bite him. His eyes lit up.

"Wow! We have coffee in the future, but it's nothing like this."

Maron giggled and shook her head.

"Sweetie, you really have to let this future thing go."

"It's the truth," he said matter-of-factly, shoving another spoonful of froth into his mouth and muffling his words slightly. "Just ask Krillen or Yamcha."

Maron smiled, remembering that hottie Yamcha. She'd been able to tell he was interested when they met. If it wasn't for that nagging girlfriend of his, she'd have had him – although it wasn't like she had been planning on actually doing anything with him. Flirting for her was like hunting to others. She didn't feel right unless she went home with at least one catch.

"Okay," she said, deciding to play along with the kid, since his mention of Yamcha put her in a good mood. "Say it was true. Say you are from the future. Why are you here?"

"To help defeat the androids."

"Oh, so you'd be here to guide whatsisname, Hercule."

"Who?" He said blankly, putting the cup down. A mostache of froth had formed on his upper lip.

For the first time, the tiniest ripple of doubt crossed Maron's mind. There was no one in the world who hadn't heard of Hercule, their only hope and saviour.

"Nice try," she laughed. She covered up her unease by picking up her napkin and dabbing at the kid's face. He looked startled, then sheepish as she wiped away the foam moustache. "But your story needs work," she told him. "If you were here to beat Cell, you'd be helping Hercule, not sitting here chatting to me."

She wiped away the last traces of froth and paused a moment, hand on his shoulder, studying his face. He really was a pretty kid. Nice manners too. He'd make some girl a great boyfriend.

"We have a couple of days," he said. "There's nothing more we can do, anyway. Except pray."

He looked beyond her, and his expression was suddenly different. There was that something she'd recognised in Krillen, and Yamcha, and even that little kid with the funny hair. Something cold and hard and completely alien to her. She removed her hand from his shoulder and sat back, scrunching up the napkin in her fist.

"Listen, kid…" She stopped. "What is your name anyway?"

"Trunks."

"Listen, Trunks…even if I were to believe this crazy story – which I don't – why would you want to speak to me?"

"I've… changed things," he said slowly. He rolled his empty cup from hand to hand. "Some things for the better. But mostly for the worst. I just want to make sure you're not one of those things."

She felt a cold chill rise inside her.

"In my world, you're with Krillen," he continued. "Or you were. In my time-line, he died a few days ago and you're a widow."

She stood up.

"I don't think I want to hear anymore." She laid money for the coffee on the table and started to walk away. His voice followed her.

"In my timeline you're pregnant."

Her steps slowed and stopped.

"And if I'm right," he continued. "If I haven't changed too much already, it's Krillen's."

She turned to face this boy who spouted impossible truths, and unknowable facts. He gazed back at her with clear blue-green eyes like the ocean.

"How do you know?" She asked, her mouth dry. "I wasn't even sure until a few days ago. I haven't told anyone yet. How could you possibly know?"

He smiled in a way that wasn't really a smile.

"Like I said, I'm from the future."

She stared at him.

"This isn't funny anymore."

"I just want to make sure things go right this time," he said. "I've changed a lot of things already. I didn't want to change this too."

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