Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Darkness ❯ Darkness ( One-Shot )

Hey, all, it's the Shi-Saiyan. Anyone wonder about the spelling of my name, by the way? NO, I'm not illiterate. I just read somewhere once that Shi means death in Japanese, so Shi-Saiyan works for two purposes. It kinda gives the name that bad-ass edge, yet still conveys that I'm a she. Cool, no? Oh, who cares! Anyway, this story is nothing like the others that I've written. It's based on a song by Disturbed, called Darkness. It's on their new album Believe. Oh, Kami, if you haven't heard this song, you must go find it, download it, turn it up real loud and listen! It's nothing like the usual Disturbed stuff. It's slow and haunting and beautiful. The first time I heard it, I cried and the words automatically made me think of Vegeta. I actually had tears in my eyes when I wrote this story. So, here goes and don't say I didn't warn you.

Oh, yeah, I almost forgot! This is kinda Alternate Universe, since we all know Vegeta did not come back right after he blew himself up to kill Majin Buu and that he did not go to the bad Otherworld and that when he did come back, it was King Yamma who sent him and he wasn't any worse than he was before. This is all in my imagination and I worked with the story to make it fit the song, so if you don't like the inconsistencies from the DBZ timeline, tough! You'll just have to deal with it! All right! Read on!

Don't turn away,

I pray you've heard

The words I've spoken.

Dare to believe,

For one last time,

Then I'll let the

Darkness cover me,

Deny everything,

Slowly walk away,

To breathe again,

On my own.

Carry me away,

I'll need your strength,

To get me through this.

Dare to believe,

For one last time,

And then I'll let the

Darkness cover me,

Deny everything.

Slowly walk away,

To breathe again,

On my own.

"Darkness" by Disturbed

Bulma wiped the tears off her face, even as more fell to replace them. Giving up the pointless action, she sat on the bed and pulled a pillow to her chest, holding it tightly, as sobs wracked her body. Vegeta was gone. He'd sacrificed himself to help destroy the monster Majin Buu. It hadn't worked. Her husband had died in vain. It wasn't fair! She felt like screaming and fighting, but there was nothing there to hit. You couldn't fight death. So, she cried, feeling as though her heart had been ripped from her chest, like it had died with Vegeta in that Kami-forsaken desert. Slowly, Bulma sank down, off the bed, until she was lying on the floor, lost to her grief.

Vegeta stared at his wife through the portal. He looked at the demon before him once more. "You'll let me go back?" The demon nodded, once. "What's the catch?" the Prince asked, suspiciously. "You may only have one day with her, and then you will belong to me once more. You will again be the evil being that Frieza created. You will deny her and your son and all those you called friends. Your only purpose will be to destroy Majin Buu." Vegeta's eyes narrowed. "Why? Majin Buu is one of you. If he wins, you all win." The demon shook his head. "No. If Majin Buu wins, he will destroy the universe, including the Otherworlds. We will all be blown into oblivion, should Majin Buu succeed in beating the Z Fighters. They will need you to win." "And after Majin Buu is destroyed?" "You will return here." Vegeta glanced back at the portal and saw his wife, all the vivaciousness, the fighting spirit drained from her beautiful body. All because of him. He needed to hold her, one last time, to tell her the words he'd always been too afraid to say. No price was too high. "I accept."

Bulma dragged herself up off the floor and to the window, where she leaned on the sill and stared out at the sky. A thousand diamonds in a blue-black blanket. A thousand tears in black Saiyan eyes. She started to shake and began to back away from the window and then paused, seeing something bright coming toward her. It burned with a cold blue fire and she raised a hand to her mouth, disbelieving. Vegeta? She stepped back, until she bumped into the bed and felt the world around her begin to crumble as her dead husband flew to her window and stepped inside. He stopped and looked at her. Oh, Dende, I've really lost it! She sat down, her knees suddenly too weak to support her. Vegeta came toward her and reached out. His hands on her arms felt solid, warm, strong and she allowed the delusion to lift her and pull her into incredibly real arms. "Bulma," he said, gruffly. Now I know I'm dreaming. Vegeta had never once called her by her name. She was always just "woman." It had become something like an endearment, strange as that sounded. He seemed to sense her thoughts. He pulled away, just a little and lifted her chin, so he could see her face. "I'm real, woman. I'm here." Her control broke and she began to cry again. He pulled her close and held her tightly against his chest. After she'd cried all the tears she had left in her, she held onto him, afraid he was going to disappear. "Woman, let go. I must tell you something." He sounded reluctant to let her go, but determined. Slowly, she unwound her arms from around his neck and allowed him to set her on the bed. He knelt before her and took both her hands. "Listen to what I have to say, very carefully." She nodded, her eyes locked on his, wondering why he was so serious, so intense. In short, blunt words, he told her of the deal he'd made with the Demon King and that he had only one night with her. She began to shake again, as her world threatened to crash around her again. "No! I won't let you go! I won't lose you again," she said, gripping his hands, tightly. He lowered his head and kissed her hands, before slowly, but firmly prying her fingers off him.

He rose to his feet and pulled her up as well. "Let me love you, Bulma. Let me show you one last time that there is good in me, before it's gone forever." She nodded, raising her face to receive his kiss. His mouth was soft on hers, tenderly tasting her lips, gently sparring with her tongue, before he lightly nipped her full lower lip and nuzzled the hollow of her throat. Bulma let her head fall back as her husband disposed of her clothing and expertly began to make her body hum. His mouth teased her breasts, nipping and licking at her nipples as the full mounds swelled against his lips. He tasted every bit of her stomach, trailing his way down to her lower belly, beneath her navel. He nuzzled there, loving the softness. His lips found the almost invisible silver remains of her stretch marks. He remembered that soft, giving flesh being hard and round with child, his child. He remembered the joy and elation he'd felt the first time he'd held his son, though he had never expressed the emotion, had never known how. There was so much more he should have done, should have said, should have shown, but he couldn't go back. All he had was this night, to make up for years of indifference, inattentiveness, and selfishness. He had less than 12 hours to show her that he cared, that he did and always had loved her. Breathing in the scent of her, he kissed the crease of her thigh, running his tongue down the length of it and into her curls. She shivered as he breathed hotly on her already damp flesh. He gently parted her folds, revealing the hidden jewel within. His tongue touched her and she jumped, a small cry escaping her lips. When she'd settled again, he licked her again, slowly, teasing her clit with the tip of his tongue, massaging it in slow circles, nipping lightly with his teeth. She groaned and began to breathe a little faster. Continuing to lick and suck and nibble at her, he slid two fingers into her already slick passage, then three, massaging the walls until he found her sweet spot and she let out an open-mouthed moan. With his mouth and hand, he brought her quickly to orgasm, tearing a scream from her throat as her hips arched and her body convulsed around his fingers. Slowly pulling his fingers back, he licked up the liquids that had rushed onto his hand when she came. She tasted sweet and he closed his eyes and savored the flavor for a moment, before tenderly nipping her clit one more time. She let out a soft gasp and her body began to heat again, already ready for him again. He rose above her and kissed her, deeply and she tasted herself on his lips. She tore at his clothing, was surprised to hear it rip, but pleased when she found she had bared him completely. She ran her hands over his body, memorizing every curve and plane of him. He let her, content to continue kissing her mouth, her neck, her ear, nuzzling into her hair and breathing in it's fresh, clean scent. Her fingers skimmed over the length of him and she wrapped her hand around him, squeezing, gently. He moaned in her ear. "I have to have you now," he breathed. She nodded. "Please, Vegeta." He filled her in one powerful thrust, and she felt complete, as if some missing part of her had been returned. He froze, holding her, memorizing the feeling of her tight heat wrapped around him. She let out a soft mewling sound and he moved his hips, starting up that ancient, timeless rhythm. She matched him, thrust for thrust, his name on her lips. She called him over and over and when she climaxed, she screamed his name as if the word had been torn from her throat. He thrust deeply and cried out, clenching his hands in her hair as he spilled into her. Heat flooded her body and she wrapped her legs around her husband, refusing to allow him to leave her, holding him inside her. Her shoulders shook and he knew she was crying. He was surprised to realize he was too, even more surprised to realize he didn't care. "I love you, woman," he said, softly. He knew she heard him. Her breath caught in her throat and her arms began to tremble. "Oh, Vegeta, I love you." "You will tell our son that he made me proud. That I love him as well," he said, gruffly. She nodded, not caring that it was an order. That was Vegeta's way.

"Vegeta?" "Yes, woman?" "Love me again." "Always." And he did. They made love until the sun began to rise and then he turned to her with a strange look in his eyes. She realized it was sadness. "No," she whispered. "You can't leave. I won't let you." He touched her face. "I have to go. I have to finish what I started. Majin Buu must be defeated, or you and Trunks will be lost. I have to protect you." She started to shake, violently. He kissed her lips, gently. "Vegeta, I love you," she said. "My heart belongs to you, woman. It always has and it always will." And then he was gone. Unmindful of her nudity, she ran to the window. Barely, on the horizon, she saw the cold blue light of his Ki. The scream that came from her lips should not have come from a human throat. "Vegeta!"

Nine months later, when the doctor handed Bulma her tiny daughter, she looked down at the baby with tears in her eyes. The infant, though her head was covered with azure fuzz, gave her a serious scowl and Bulma saw Vegeta again. Leaning down, she kissed the baby's soft cheek and vowed that Bra would know her father for what he had been. A hero.

Okay, people, *sniffs* what did you think? Too mushy? Tough. I was in a mushy mood. Please, read and review.