| What is Jealousy, But an Insecure Plea for Love? Chapter 3 |
| Author: Valeyard Rating: R Disclaimer: She doesn't own, so don't even bother. |
| It was a nightmare that faded with time and the waning of fear. It still, despite all matters of forgiveness, came back no matter how much Bulma wished it would disappear, forever. It changed locations, and sometimes changed what was said, but what never changed was the lingering dread borne of fear. The sun felt unusually good, as it shone down languidly on her, trailing off onto the Namek landscape. The beams burned just enough on her skin to make her feel gloriously peaceful. The sun lulled her into a false sense of pleasant security, as she drifted between levels of consciousness and the many delightful levels of unconsciousness. As she sank into a peaceful doze, the constant, smiling Namek sun assured her there were no matters needing her attention–not even the Dragonball, snugly by her side. All this changed in an instant, as the table beside her exploded, the impact throwing her out of her chair. She screamed as she hit the ground, scrambling for some foothold of safety. Crying out Gohan’s name, she jumped to her feet, looking wildly around for the source of the explosion that almost killed her. He hadn’t been there a moment before. A moment before, all had been right with this world. Now, her peaceful dream fell away, in a shock of rage and terror whose name was the next thing out of her mouth. "Vegeta!" Bulma screamed, backing up in open horror. This had to be wrong. This was not the Vegeta she knew. This was not the father of her child. He had transformed before her eyes, into something worse than her nightmares. White light streamed from Vegeta’s body, blinding her with fright. His eyes were livid red, shot with black orbs shimmering in deranged hatred. His muscles bulged as he reflexively opened and closed his fists, betraying all the strength that was in them. Bulma knew she was completely alone with hell itself, and this hell wasn’t taking any prisoners. "I finally found you!" Vegeta advanced on Bulma, seething with fury. "What am I doing back on Namek?" Bulma asked him. Vegeta advanced, undeterred by such questions. "No one makes a fool out of Vegeta!" Bulma up against the rock wall. Vegeta kept advancing on her until he was standing so close, his breath was hot on her face. "Where is my Dragonball?" Bulma was openly shaking, wondering why she was going through this dread, again. "Vegeta!" Bulma said timidly. "Don’t you remember? There’s no need to collect the Dragonballs anymore. Furiza is dead!" "Don’t fuck with me! Just because you’re beautiful, you think you can do anything you want, don’t you?" Vegeta’s voice assaulted her in a deafening roar. The veins on his forehead began to stand out, pulsating with all the power and rage that Vegeta made plain he intended to focus on her. ‘This has to be wrong!’ Bulma thought. Bulma fought to remember. ‘Wasn’t this all over with? Didn’t Vegeta care about her now? Why was this happening, again?’ "Where is it?" Vegeta’s voice was a screech nearing hysteria, as he took her by the arms and brought his face close to her throat. "This is your last chance!" He hissed. "You don’t tell me where that ball, is I’ll take you apart limb from limb, member by member!" Bulma believed every word of it. She weakly pointed to the Dragonball just behind Vegeta, but he never turned to look at it. "Oh, maybe you like it rough." Vegeta chuckled menacingly. "Maybe, that is why you are keeping quiet. Okay, anything to make a lady, happy. Let’s just start off with this!" Before Bulma could blink, Vegeta stepped back, quickly punching a hole, neatly in the rock wall beside her face. The rock shattered, cutting her cheek. She felt blood spray across her cheek, as she screamed involuntarily. She fell to her knees, begging Vegeta not to hurt her. "Next time I won’t miss! Where is it?" Vegeta reached down, grabbing her by her jacket. "It’s behind you, for God’s sake! Just turn around and look! It’s right there!" Bulma shrieked at the top of her lungs. Vegeta stood over her. Bulma’s eyes trailed, longingly, up his body. For a brief instant, she gave into appreciating the pure beauty of his taut body. The moment was dashed from her mind as he reached down, grabbing her jacket. Bulma felt herself hefted up to momentarily meet the terror of his eyes. She closed her eyes, as she felt herself being dropped and then dragged across the ground by her jacket. She forced her eyes open to see Vegeta turning around, still holding onto her by her jacket. Bulma closed her eyes, again, dearly wishing she was anyplace else. She felt Vegeta drag her once more, and she opened her eyes to see where they were going. Everything had changed. They were no longer on Namek. They were in the nursery. To her horror, Vegeta was not walking toward a Dragonball, but the crib where Trunks innocently and helplessly, lay asleep. "I see you weren’t lying!" Vegeta chuckled wickedly. "There it is! The Dragonball!" Vegeta reached in the crib and roughly hefted up Trunks. Trunks was helplessly crying, as Bulma screamed in horror trying to get loose from Vegeta’s impossibly, strong grip. "Vegeta!" Bulma screamed, desperately hitting the arm that still held her. "That’s not a Dragonball, that’s our baby! Vegeta, please I’ll do anything, just put him down!" "You must think I’m a real fool!" Vegeta hissed evilly at her, as he waved their baby in Bulma’s face. "The genius putting it over on the Saiya-jin who is more brawn than brain, am I right? You think I don’t know what a Dragonball looks like?" "Vegeta, for God’s sake, you’re insane." Bulma begged and screamed. "That’s Trunks! That’s our baby! Please put him down, I’ll do anything you say, just put him down." A thin, cruel smile stretched across Vegeta’s features. "Fine!" Vegeta replied way too pleasantly. "I’ll put it down, just like you ask." Vegeta put Trunks down in the crib, as Bulma, still kneeling, desperately tried to think of what, if anything she could do to deliver Trunks from his own father. "Vegeta," Bulma said weakly feeling hot tears leaking down her face, "why are you doing this?" "Why am I doing this?" Vegeta broke into that insane laugh she hadn’t heard since Namek. "Because, I found out about you and Furiza." Bulma looked up at Vegeta in disbelief, as he looked down on her with an arrogantly, vicious smirk. "What are you talking about?" Bulma said weakly, feeling too numb put up much of a fight. "You think I’m going to die like that purple haired kid said I would. So, you are moving on and you haven’t the decency to say it to my face. You didn’t think I would find out about Furiza, did you?" "Vegeta, I love only you!" Bulma said feeling tears now cascading down her face. "Please, leave Trunks alone. I’ll do anything. Just tell me why you are doing this!" "To get my revenge! Of course!" Vegeta eyes narrowed. His looks conveyed none of the concern he had in their last fight. "I told you what would happen if I caught you with someone else. Now, you think to get all the Dragonballs, and I am going to make sure you never get them." Vegeta released Bulma as he swiftly and terribly turned on their sleeping infant. "By destroying this one!" Vegeta roared as he raised his hand and made a slashing move across Trunks’ throat. "No!" Bulma screamed. "Vegeta, that’s Trunks! It’s not a Dragonball, it’s Trunks. For the love of God, Vegeta, that’s Trunks!" "That’s Trunks, that’s Trunks!" Bulma screamed out as she pitched herself up in bed. Bulma’s eyes flew open as she wildly looked around. She fought against the grip she felt holding her, as she fell out of bed. The foolishness of her plight was brought into sudden clarity, as she hit the floor with a thud. It was then she realized her "captor," was her own blanket. She had twisted herself up in it during the throes of her nightmare. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. She had let her last fight with Vegeta sift into her unconscious, until it became mixed up with the old nightmare. Bulma looked around the darkened room. She was completely alone. Vegeta had been gone for more than a month. In all that time, he had sent her no message or word of comfort. She hung her head, crying, dearly wishing Vegeta was there. She would feel safe in his arms as she told him her dream. She could just imagine Vegeta telling her, in his hard, cynical fashion it was a stupid dream. Somehow, that would have been comforting to her. She would have agreed with him and laughed it off, shaking off her old terrors of him and of the night. ‘Damn you, Vegeta!’ Bulma screamed in her mind. ‘See what you have done. Now, the nightmares have returned!’ Guilt began to sift through her emotions toward Vegeta. How could she have such a nightmare about him like that? She knew Vegeta would never hurt her. Vegeta was right. Bulma had made him swear to never hurt her and that was a vow, she knew, Vegeta would never break. Bulma knew she couldn’t control what she dreamed, but she still felt she had betrayed him, somehow. Still the emotions the dream had churned up, didn’t fade with the dream. She felt them just as strongly as if she was still in the dream. As soon as she had collected her wits, she wrapped a sheet around her and ran to Trunks’ room to see if he was all right. Bulma picked him up, even though she knew it might wake him. Trunks sleepily bobbled his head, being still too young to support his own head without help. That was when Bulma spotted the red wheal across his throat. It literally looked like a red slash. It so closely paralleled her dream, she couldn’t help letting out a horrified scream. ‘Can I dream someone into being cut?’ Her guilt over Vegeta was forgotten in her new feelings of guilt about Trunks. She felt like she had done something terrible to him and she wasn’t sure how. Bulma ran out of the room, holding Trunks, as he began to cry. "Mom! Dad!" Bulma yelled down the hall. "Get up! Something is wrong with Trunks!" Heedless of her state of undress, Bulma rushed down the hall with Trunks in her arms. Her parents were still donning robes, as they met her in the darkened hall. Their looks of irritation, immediately changed when they set eyes on Trunks. "Oh my God!" Mrs. Briefs shrieked. "It looks like someone slashed his throat!" Bulma gave into the irrationally, wild thought that her dream was no dream. Vegeta had returned, to take some measure of revenge against her, by taking it out on Trunks. She dashed it almost immediately. Trunks wouldn’t be breathing if Vegeta were capable of that. Bulma deposited Trunks into Mrs. Briefs’ arms as she ran back to her room screaming that she was going to get something to put on, and take Trunks to an emergency room. Mr. Briefs ran to fetch a capsule, and a hover sedan was waiting for Bulma as she came downstairs dressed, with Trunks in arms wrapped in a blanket. (Musical Interlude) Sundown by Gordon Lightfoot I can see her lyin' back in her satin dress In a room where you do what you don't confess. Sundown, you better take care If I find you been creepin' round my back stairs. Sundown, you better take care If I find you been creepin' round my back stairs. She's been lookin' like a queen in a sailor's dream And she don't always say what she really means. Sometimes I think it's a shame When I get feelin' better when I'm feelin' no pain. Sometimes I think it's a shame When I get feelin' better when I'm feelin' no pain. I can picture ev'ry move that a man could make; Gettin' lost in her lovin' is your first mistake. Sundown, you better take care If I find you been creepin' round my back stairs. Sometimes I think it's a sin When I feel like I'm winnin' when I'm losin' again. I can see her lookin' fast in her faded jeans; She's a hard lovin' woman, got me feelin' mean. Sometimes I think it's a shame When I get feelin' better when I'm feelin' no pain. Sundown, you better take care If I find you been creepin' round my back stairs. Sundown you better take care If I find you been creepin' round my back stairs. Sometimes I think it's a sin When I feel like I'm winnin' when I'm losin' again. (End of Musical Interlude) Vegeta knew he was running out of food. That was definitely a concern for him, but it was not, he told himself, the first priority. ‘I’ve gone without eating regularly for most of my life.’ He told himself in cold determination. ‘I have done it before, I can do it, again. The ship is the number one priority.’ Vegeta smirked ruefully. A grim expression came to his eyes, as he momentarily thought of Bulma. The way she used to try and cut him down a peg or two. She always thought him to be so spoiled and pampered. She could not possibly have known she was completely wrong in her opinion of him. Living with her was actually the first time in his life, since the destruction of Bejita-sei, that he had known regular meals and a regular place to sleep. The Capsule Corporation was, for Vegeta, the ultimate in luxury. His expression hardened as his mind lingered on Bulma. ‘Fool!’ He thought bitterly. ‘All you did was make it easier for her, didn’t you? With you out of the way, Kakaratto can just come and go as he pleases!’ "Low-level mother fucker!" Vegeta screamed out to the impenetrable, steel-gray skies. "How dare he touch the woman of his Prince!" "I don’t care if he is the first Super Saiya-jin in one thousand years." Vegeta shook his fists in fury at the unforgiving skies. "I will still surpass him and return to take what is mine. My woman and my birthright!" Vegeta coiled in his body as he fought to reign in his fury and bring himself back under control. "Then," he assured himself quietly. "I will punish the usurper with so many flavors of death, he’ll wish he had blown up with our planet, when he was born." ‘So, why,’ he thought, giving in to a brief instant of contemplation, ‘did I run out to space? Why do I keep running out into space? What do I hope to accomplish here, I could not accomplish at home?’ "Home!" Vegeta said it out loud. None of the comfort the word held for him, could be heard in his voice. ‘Home!’ He thought to himself, feeling the tenuous sarcasm in the thought. ‘What am I talking about? The woman and her brat don’t make the Earth my home. I am Saiya-jin. Bejita-sei is gone. Space is my home! It’s the only home I’ve known for a long time.’ Vegeta lowered his head, looking at his own clenched fists. His frustration and anger were building with every day. Nothing had changed since coming to this torturous planet. He was still at his limit and no matter how he strived, he had not found a way to climb over that insurmountable height. Vegeta had found the most barren, forsaken planet he could find. It was hell itself, and Vegeta wanted it that way. The atmosphere just barely kept him alive. After a month on it, the harsh ravages of the planet had left their mark on Vegeta. All his clothes were torn. He had given up even bothering to change them. He had a few new scars received courtesy, of the constant meteor storms that assaulted the planet. Grimness clung to the planet like the dust that clung to everything and cloyed in his lungs. Living on the planet for a month had etched the grimness into Vegeta, as hard and as gray as the barren landscape of the planet itself. It was chiseled into his features from the hardness of his expression, to the hollow, sunken expression of his eyes. He was almost played out and close to abject starvation, and he damn well knew it. Living under such conditions was training enough--at least for any other living being, besides Vegeta. He pushed himself every day far beyond the limits of his body, refusing to listen to the screams of his exhausted body or mind. ‘Exhaustion is of the mind.’ He told himself. ‘Pain is of the mind. The only thing that is of the body is strength!’ Vegeta knew strength only through pain–pain of loneliness, pain of starvation, pain of battle, pain of training. These were old friends for Vegeta, and he intended to use them to obtain his goal, or die in trying. Death was a constant possibility, still he refused to leave the planet. How could he return and face Bulma after the things he had said? Swallow his pride? ‘Return and admit I could never overcome my limits? Return knowing I will never be strong enough to challenge the man who stands between my fate and my woman? Vegeta knew if the planet was not driving him toward his goal, it was certainly driving him toward madness as he saw the images of Bulma and Kakarotto coalesce in front of him. Both pointed, laughing at him derisively. "Never!" Vegeta screamed at them forcefully. "I will never return, until I am ready to take what is mine!" The images faded as their laughter trailed off, burning into Vegeta’s overworked brain. Vegeta forcefully turned away, closing his eyes against their goading visage. This was Vegeta’s last stand and he intended to make the best of it. He either returned a Super Saiya-jin to kill who had dared touch his woman and destroy the androids single-handedly; or he met his end on this planet and he shut his steel trap of a mind against any other possibility. He walked back to his ship, kicking up dust as he trudged across the barren landscape. Vegeta looked up momentarily. He could barely make out the outline of his ship on the horizon. The words "Capsule Corporation" were emblazoned in bold lettering. It was the only thing that could be clearly seen in his private world that seemed to know nothing else, but harshness and gray. Vegeta felt an odd pang of guilt looking at the words. He had the momentary inkling something was terribly wrong back at the Capsule Corporation, and whatever was happening was his fault. Vegeta forcefully did his best to shut down this feeling. The effort made him grimace in anger. He had to train, that was all that mattered. The woman could look after herself, and he was sure she wasn’t doing that alone. Upon entering the ship, he went to the food stores, which brought him back to the problem of his dwindling food supply. Vegeta was so enraged when Bulma walked away from him, he had barely known what he was doing. He dressed himself in a blind rage and ran out to the ship, taking off, before he really thought fully about a course of action. It wasn’t until he was well into space, he discovered the food stores were adequately stocked–for a human. For a Saiya-jin, it was just barely enough to keep him alive, and the stores had seriously dwindled since then. Yet, he knew he had committed himself to a course of action, and he could not turn back now. Vegeta hunched his shoulders as if in pain, but he was really fighting to shut off the one small voice in his head that refuse to be silenced. The one telling him, he was going to die on this lifeless rock, and Bulma and Kakarotto were probably laughing at him as he slowly starved to death. "Shut the fuck up!" Vegeta yelled aloud in disgust, between bites of his one meager meal of the day. He was down to one small bowl of rice a day. He ate it slowly, telling himself that fighting with himself just used up needed energy he could use in training. When he was done, his arms fell slack by his side, as he heard the bowl go clattering across the floor. The next thing he heard was a solid thud. It took him a few moments, to realize that thud, he heard, was none other than himself, following the bowl in hitting the floor. "Shi . . .it . . ." Vegeta stuttered out as he fought to stay conscious. ‘Shit, I’m dying. I’m closer to starvation, than I thought.’ Vegeta marveled at the instability of the planet as images of his ship swam before his eyes. He fought to keep his eyes open, forcing himself to focus on different objects. They kept shifting in and out of focus and he knew he was in a losing battle. He could feel himself slip out of consciousness, and he didn’t know if he would ever regain it. ‘Me!’ Vegeta told himself in a rage. ‘The Prince of all Saiya-jin is going to die on some stupid rock and Kakarotto will not only get my woman, but all the glory!’ He clenched his fists in frustration and anger, which he immediately knew was a mistake, because it took the last toll of his energy. ‘This so sucks.’ Vegeta told himself as he felt himself drift off. Vegeta raised his arm in appeal to the two visions he saw swimming before his slowly closing eyes. He called to them. "Trunks! Woman!" Whether it was an appeal for help, or whether an appeal for forgiveness, Vegeta wasn’t sure. He felt his arm fall slack to the floor. The visions disappeared with Vegeta’s hope. He closed his eyes on that grey world and his last lingering thought of whether he would ever see his family or anything else, ever again. |