Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Dark Heart ❯ A Silent Night ( Chapter 2 )

Bulma's first, immediate thought was that this wasn't Vegeta.

This wasn't her Vegeta.

There was absolutely no chance that the man sitting right in front of her could be the proud, strong warrior who'd stolen her heart and, yet, there he was, staring at her miserably with those dark, desolate eyes…

She took in his appearance, noticing that he was still wearing the same clothes he'd been wearing when they'd said their goodbyes to their son from the future. The only difference was how dirty they were, as if he'd been sleeping in a cave or somewhere far away from civilization. When Bulma examined his attire more closely, she was also surprised to discover that it wasn't tattered, which could only mean that he hadn't been training or exercising any kind of strenuous physical activity either.

He looked like a child.

He looked like a sad, lost child…

Bulma briefly halted her movements as they both guardedly stared at each other but, before long, she found herself walking again towards him, utterly hypnotized by his mysterious, magnetic presence.

She stood in front of him, clad only in her large white towel, looking down at him with unhidden but shy fondness in her bright blue eyes. Vegeta held her gaze for a few more seconds and then, unexpectedly, he broke eye contact and he slowly buried his head in her stomach. The heiress remained immobile in a rare state of complete shock, not quite knowing what to do or how to act. Never before had Bulma witnessed her Prince behaving in such manner, however, instinct soon took over, and the small female finally took action, gently hiding her hands into her lover's surprisingly soft hair. She felt him release a deep, shaky breath he must have been holding for a while, promptly summoning that tight lump in her throat again.

Vegeta firmly wrapped his slightly trembling arms around her, as if he were afraid that she'd disappear, and she remained still, holding him protectively in her gentle embrace as she soothingly run her fingers across his scalp in a modest attempt at being a comforting presence, gradually feeling his strong, muscular body relax under her touch.

He was destroying her...

He was breaking her heart all over again and, inexplicably, she still found herself incapable of letting go of him.

The couple's intimate moment stretched for a few more minutes, until Bulma's nude, delicate frame couldn't withstand the cool air of the night anymore and she shivered involuntarily. Her body's reaction wasn't lost on Vegeta, and he instantly let go of her, getting up from the bed and forcing a slightly startled Bulma to let go of him and take a few steps backwards, waiting expectantly for his next move.

The warrior stood in front of her looking like an apparition, like a dark, fallen soldier with hunched shoulders and lost eyes. Without warning, he removed her towel in one swift, smooth motion, leaving her vulnerably naked and picking her up in his arms as he walked towards the bed. Bulma, by now thoroughly overcome by her exhaustion and dizzy mind, didn't move, allowing him to carry her in his arms and secretly wondering whether this was real or just a figment of her very vivid imagination.

Vegeta laid her down softly on the bed, carefully cradling her head and easing it into the soft pillows, covering her defenseless body with warm blankets and a tenderness the woman didn't even know he possessed. He lay down next to her, rolling onto his side as she did the same, and both lovers simply looked into each other's eyes for countless minutes in the dark of night.

By now, Bulma's bright mind had already figured out that his awkward and unfamiliar behavior had something to do with the fact that it'd been Gohan, and not him, the final victor in the ruthless battle against the sickening monster who'd threatened them all.

She had imagined his defeat in combat would affect him somehow, that he'd brood for a while, perhaps destroying a couple of uninhabited islands to release some steam, and then he'd pick himself up, dust himself off and carry on with his training.

Wasn't that what he always did?

Wasn't that what a warrior would do at all times?

Bulma knew this wasn't the first time things hadn't gone his way in the battlefield, after all, he'd already lost to her friends during his first battle on Earth, he'd perished by the hand of his old Master in Namek, and he'd even suffered the humiliation of being beaten by Android 18; and, yet, he'd always kept fighting back, constantly striving to be the best and making her love and admire him madly for it.

Looking into those dark, subdued orbs, she could barely recognize the stubborn, implacable man that she used to basically obligate to get out of his beloved Gravity Room in order to take a much-needed rest from his daily, almost masochistic training sessions.

And suddenly it hit her…

He was broken.

Her man was broken and she didn't know how to fix him...

A sharp sensation pierced her heart, a sorrowful, gloomy emotion beyond her control, and she pressed her body against his, holding him tight as she buried her face into his warm chest. She knew that the possibility of his rejection was still very real, but he surprised her once more by returning her embrace, encircling her tiny waist, softly but firmly, with one of his robust arms as he delicately caressed her slightly damp hair with the other. His grip was gentle but possessive, with a barely hidden hint of desperation that Bulma knew too well by now.

She was desperate to save him.

She wished to talk and comfort him or, she wondered, perhaps she could go the other way, maybe trying to anger or annoy him just to get a reaction out of him.

Oh, how she missed their heated arguments…

They both possessed a sharp tongue that would drive each other absolutely crazy, always ending up spending their nights together, passionately attempting to put down the blazing fire they'd both previously ignited.

Bulma wanted to scream, to cry, to howl, to desperately beg the Universe to bring his man back to her. She yearned to say a million and one things and, yet, the words wouldn't come out. All she was left with, instead, was this tight oppression boiling inside her chest as her eyes stung with unshed tears.

No.

She couldn't cry in front of him; if she ever did he'd know the true extent of the pity her heart was bursting with right now, and if there was one thing Vegeta despised, it was to be pitied.

Lying naked with her Prince in her arms, her feelings towards him became clear as water to her.

This man that everyone feared, she loved.

This man that most people loathed, she admired.

And this man, who had nothing and belonged to no one, she pitied. Dende helped her, she did. If only because she knew he'd probably never had a single person that truly cared about him in his entire, lonesome life and, now that he did, now that he had her, he'd gone out of his way time and again in order to obstinately push her away.

Even now, captured in his embrace, an invisible wall was separating them. An impenetrable barrier made out of fear and anger, loneliness and hopelessness, she seemed to be incapable of penetrating and walking through.

He was with her and he wasn't.

She could touch his body but not his soul.

So she held him, clinging to him as if her very life depended on it and, eventually, their drained, exhausted bodies gave in as they drifted off in each other's arms into a restless sleep.

 

Bulma woke up a few hours later, shivering like a leaf, covered in cold sweat and under the strange impression that she'd awakened from a nightmare that she couldn't fully recall.

All she knew was that something was wrong; something felt wrong.

Gradually, she recalled the unusual events of the past night and her silent encounter with Vegeta, where no words had been spoken and yet, they'd ended up falling asleep together in a close embrace.

A quick look around her made her soon realize that her Prince was nowhere to be seen. His side of the bed was cold, and his dirty clothes lay abandoned on a heap on the floor. The sun wasn't still very high in the sky, which meant he'd probably left before sunrise. It also meant she had time for a quick cup of coffee before her little boy woke up.

Bulma lazily got out of the bed, blushing slightly when she noticed she still had no clothes on and, after putting on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts, she walked downstairs into the kitchen, where she made a fresh batch of coffee and she poured herself a cup of the delicious beverage. She then stepped outside, where she walked idly across her home's beautiful gardens, cherishing the refreshing sensation of the grass, still slightly damp from the early morning's dew, delicately caressing her bare feet.

The earthling took a deep breath, closing her eyes and smiling softly. She absolutely loved this time of the day, that brief period of time before everyone else woke up, making her feel like the world was hers and hers alone and, leisurely, she opened her eyes and took another comforting sip of her warm drink.

And then it happened.

Noticing something about her view felt different, Bulma blinked nervously in confusion several times, quickly gasping horrified at the sudden realization.

As a broken cup of coffee lay dejectedly on the ground, a rebellious tear rolled down Bulma's cheek.

The space ship was nowhere in sight.

Vegeta was gone…