Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Frozen Skin ❯ Where Are You? ( Chapter 3 )

A/N: Thank-you ever so much for your patience! I've been so swamped with work lately... big important year. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Chapter 3

With the conjunction of Bulma's table tapping and the loud 'tick tock' from the clock on the kitchen wall, Goku found it increasingly hard to say something remotely relevant to lighten the tense air that hung between them. It was as if a dense layer of Manhattan smog had settled and was causing a communication barrier. He kept on opening his mouth, taking in a small breath and exhaling shortly afterwards. The Saiyan was stuck for words, but luckily, he had a cup of coffee to attract his attention to something other than the textured silence. This was the infamous casual social arena: mulling over a cup of steadily cooling coffee as both people sat in complete silence. Goku attempted at one last sentence, but alas, not a single word came tumbling off the tip of his tongue.

"Goku, you don't have to try and ease this awkward situation. It's bad enough that there is a situation in the first place." sighed Bulma as she looked up at the black, spiky haired Saiya-Jin warrior and gave him a classic 'there's nothing you can do' look. The blue-haired beauty gazed down at the liquorice coloured pool in her mug and brought it up to her lips, taking a small sip. The strong bitter taste was a brief shock to her nerves as they jolted awake.

"Well it would help if you'd actually tell me what the situation is. We've been sat here for like forty-five minutes, and all I've managed to get so far is a cup of coffee and looks of confusion from you." Goku pleaded into Bulma's eyes, trying as best as he could to pry some information from her. There had to be a reason as to why he'd been stuck in a kitchen for almost an hour without a single significant word passing through his ear canals. "Come on, we've been friends for like, I don't know... forever! We've been through loads of things together and helped each other out. The least you can do is tell me what's on your mind."

"I want to tell you! I really, really want to tell you! We've come across some of the weirdest and the most unexplainable predicaments in the past, and somehow, we've escaped from them with just a few cuts and bruises, but... but I don't know. There's a definite element to this problem that I can't believe you will understand. I can't even understand it. It's just so... so abnormal."

Goku rolled his eyes and folded his arms in a challenging manner. He raised one eyebrow at Bulma and bore his eyes deep into hers. "Try me. I won't judge you or your sanity, no matter how weird you think this is. Remember, there could be worse things."

Bulma nodded slowly in agreement, and slowly put her hand to her pocket and took out the piece of folded white paper. She looked at it with a hollow gaze as it sat there in her hands, folded as it was yesterday, and passed it across the table towards Goku. "I don't care how moronic or psychologically ill you may think I am from reading this, but I swear to you, I am 100% sane."

Goku furrowed his brow as he gave Bulma one last look before picking up the small piece of parchment and began to unfold the one crease that ran through the middle. As he let either side fold open before him, he stared long and hard at the white face reflected at him.

"Bulma, I'm not quite sure what this is about, but I think the issue is more to do with you."

"What do you mean? There's absolutely nothing wrong with me! I found that last night, under the couch after I spilled my drink and when I opened it, the writing was there! What's your problem? Are you blind or something?" raged Bulma angrily as she shot daggers at Goku.

Goku looked worried for Bulma: he had no clue about the writing she was talking about, for on the piece of paper, there was absolutely nothing there.

"I hate being judgemental, but I think it's you who's blind." Goku passed Bulma the paper and sat back, taking up his mug and sipping his lukewarm coffee.

"What are you talking," Bulma gaped in shock and utter disbelief at the sheer blankness and uninhabited space on the white paper, angry and frustrated as she knew she had seen black ink upon it. "I swear to you, Goku, there was writing on this paper last night! I can even tell you what it said! It said 'I love you Tenshi Sama'. There! You happy?"

Goku chuckled momentarily before returning to a serious facade. "Bulma there's absolutely nothing on this piece of paper! Are you sure you're not just imagining things?"

Bulma's eyes grew huge with injustice; she had certainly seen writing on the paper, there was no mistake about it. Why on earth would she have simply dreamt such elusive words? "Oh yeah, I'm really going to have some prophetic, mystical dream about chicken-scratch black writing on a piece of paper. Thanks Goku for that immense vote of confidence." Bulma got up out of her seat angrily and took her mug of coffee to the sink and let its deep chestnut coloured river run freely down the drain.

"Don't get angry with me. I'm not to blame for whatever's upset you, but I hope you get over it." Goku's voice was, as always, calming, friendly and reassuring. Bulma's fiery temper was almost like a bad case of heartburn, but the pure-hearted Saiyan always managed keep the blaze under control.

Even though she knew getting angry and wound-up with everyone wouldn't help her case, Bulma was still eager to convince someone of her experience, and find some substantial understanding. "You're totally right, Goku. I'm sorry for taking it out on you. I just don't understand why one minute there's writing on the paper, and the second I show someone, it's gone. I mean, come on, my IQ has practically four digits so none of my screws are loose. There is no way I could have just purely imagined what I saw, read and committed to memory."

Goku meditated upon his thoughts for a brief moment in time, his brow furrowing occasionally and an undecided sigh of uncertainty escaping his lips. "What were the last two words you told me?"

"Tenshi Sama. It said 'I love you Tenshi Sama'."

"My angel? 'I love you my angel'? Whoever, or whatever, left that note for you must have some serious emotions for you." Goku: always the ever-so predictable logic!

"That's what I mean! What if this is some kind of note from Vegeta? It's possible he could have been the one who left the note!" exclaimed Bulma. Her pretty porcelain face was a mixture of erratic and excited feelings, even though on the inside, she was still conflicted and lost within her own wonderments. "It's not as if it would be impossible for him to do such a thing, he can be pretty crafty."

"I don't like to put you on a downer, but if it had been Vegeta I would have known. I would have sensed his energy, and you know I wouldn't have wasted a second to tell you. I know how worried you are."

Bulma's undisputedly ravishing blue eyes glistened with remorse for her lover. She couldn't begin to comprehend the anxiety, panic and heartache that was coursing through her blood-vessels. She felt as if she was playing the role of an ill-fated heroine in a breath-taking Shakespearian play, torn with pain-stricken love and her heart bleeding with tragedy and sorrow, but there was nothing breath-taking about this. This was all sickeningly real.

"I... I just wish he would come back to me. I keep on praying to the Heavens that he will return to me safe and unharmed, but for some reason, I have a terrible feeling that my prayers won't be answered. I don't think Kami will answer me this time. I don't think he," Bulma paused for a moment whilst she fought back dangerous tears. "I don't think he will ever come back."

Goku raised himself out of his seat and made his way to Bulma and knelt down beside her chair, looking up at her tear-streaked face, trying his best to ignore the aching sensation that was stabbing at his heart; it pained him to see such a beautiful woman cry. She didn't deserve such emotional burdens.

"Stop me from hurting, Goku. Please just stop me from feeling this." Bulma's topaz coloured eyes shed crystal tears as she looked down at her obsidian eyed friend.

Goku swallowed forcefully as his heart wrenched harder from the sight of Bulma crying. "Where does it hurt?"

"Right here." Bulma raised Goku's hand and placed it upon her heart and a couple more tears slid silently down her ivory face. She couldn't help but feel a natural pang of jealousy towards Chi-Chi; she was extremely lucky to be blessed with a man gifted with a pure heart. He always had positive intentions, he was kind, considerate and loyal, and unbelievably benevolent. His courage and selflessness was enough to honour him with the godhood of a Grecian hero. But of course, everyone had a weakness; an Achilles' heel, and Goku's love for friends and family was his. Such sensitivity made dangerous situations intricately delicate and risky, but he maintained his determination to defend those deserving of life. Goku would sacrifice himself for all the right reasons, and just from watching Bulma weep over her missing lover made him want to sacrifice his own happiness to restore hers.

Goku raised his gentle hand from Bulma's chest and placed it upon her cheek, wordlessly urging her to look at him. "If I could make it go away, I would."

Bulma sniffed and rubbed away her tears, suddenly conscious of how terrible she must have looked with dilute black mascara running raucous down her face and the whites of her eyes red and pink. "I know you would." A terribly high pitched cry cracked through the air as Bulma managed to calm herself down, thanks to Goku's support. Trunks wailed loudly and made no attempt to stop. Bulma sighed dejectedly as her shoulders slouched. "I better go and see what's wrong with him."

"Do you want to me to hang around and help you out?" enquired Goku as he straightened his legs and stood up to full height. A throbbing strain pulsed through his calf muscles as he stretched the tension out of them.

As grateful as Bulma truly was, she felt it was wrong to ask of Goku's helping hand for a while longer. He had his own family to take care of: Chi-Chi and Gohan. She couldn't ask him to stay throughout the afternoon and take care of Trunks with her. Could she?

"Thanks Goku but I don't want to be a burden. What about your family? They need you too." Bulma was trying desperately not to put herself across as needy and clingy, but she had to admit that having Goku around took away a lot of the strain. He was so good with children; she could do nothing but admire his natural paternal skills.

"You're no burden at all! Chi-Chi and I both totally understand the pressure that's on you, we want to help out as much as we can." Goku smiled a reassuring and bright smile, his eyes wild with glee and joy.

"And what about Gohan? He obviously needs you, he's your son."

"You have no reason to worry yourself over my family, Bulma. Gohan and Chi-Chi are fully informed with what you're going through, and believe you me, they want to you to be just as happy as I do. We hate seeing you this way." Goku couldn't resist to give Bulma a friendly hug and pulled her firmly into a comforting embrace. Bulma responded and wrapped her arms around the muscular Saiyan.

"How can I ever repay you?"

Bulma was released from Goku's arms and was welcomed with a sweet grin. "Stop trying to put yourself in my debt. You don't need to repay me for anything, except just to be happy!"

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The realm of nocturnal rest came about, and the wind had decided to lash against the window panes and howl through the vents of the house, allowing subtle yet distinct cold drafts to waver in and out of the rooms. Bulma had maintained enough common sense to turn the central heating on and had tucked Trunks into his crib with an extra blanket, just in case the vicious wind decided to nip at his feet and neck in an attempt to give him a chill.

Trunks had drifted off hours ago and hadn't stirred since. Bulma couldn't help but envy her own son for such a deep sleep, and tossed and turned endlessly as she tried to find herself a comfortable and semi-permanent sleeping position. The task proved itself to be exceedingly hard, and the brutal weather outside was sure to have been mocking her about her owl-like behaviour.

"Kami... all I want is to fall asleep. Is that so much to ask?" she whispered to herself. Bulma's frustration caused her cheeks to burn red-hot as she blushed with fury- she at least deserved a peaceful night, regardless of the weather. She was only concerned about getting to sleep. Everything else could wait for a while.

Bulma closed her eyes and listened to her slow, rhythmic breathing. Her mind felt heavy and deprived of sleep, and she soon began to feel a comforting sensation of ease wash upon her, as relaxation took over her completely. Bulma drifted off into blissful unconsciousness, her ears inept of any sense concerning the blustery wind outside her window.

**==*==**

The only thing I'm fully aware of is the shocking cold floor which lies beneath my feet. A sixty-foot long grand hall with a considerably impressive marble floor to match. I just don't understand why I have no shoes on.

I walk forwards slowly, my eyes wide in awe and disbelief at the sheer beauty of this vast room. Its towering Roman columns and arches creating fluid 3D patterns upon the ceiling, and the several Italian chandeliers hanging graciously from the roof. Their crystals reflect the light like diamonds; their glittering effects falling to the floor like illusions of fireflies. I continue to walk as my eyes rest upon a beautiful, gothic doorway.

This hall is a collaboration of time, ranging from the reign of Caesar, until the Renaissance period of art and Medieval England. I am walking through man-made history.

I'm barely a third of a way through the hall, and yet I stop silently in my tracks. I'm unusually calm, but I also feel incredibly strong within myself.

My eyes feel as if they are now permanently fixated onto the pair of tall mahogany doors. Its Rococo plasterwork adorning the archway appears to be original, and in perfect condition. I can't deny that I am taken back by all of this incomprehensible artwork and architecture.

It's only now that I look down at myself to see a fantastic midnight blue silk dress. A tight, boned satin bodice is grasping my upper body until it's replaced with an amazing skirt, barely floating above the ground. I feel like royalty in this dress. My hand wanders up to my hair and I feel the sharp yet cubic corners of a head accessory resting upon my tight corkscrew-ringlet hair. I look down at the floor and notice my reflection; I've never seen myself look so incredible!

I'm complete with a white-gold tiara, encrusted with sapphires and diamonds, a pair of sapphire earrings, this elegant gown and a white-gold ring resting upon my fourth finger of my left hand. My nails are painted the same colour as my dress and seem to shimmer in the light.

My attention is drawn back to the doors, and I suddenly pick up on how deafening the silence is. I can't even hear my own breathing. All I can hear is the pounding flow of blood through my ears, which at the moment, feel as if they're going to explode. My heart-rate's on a steady increase. My chest is beginning to heave, and I'm now incredibly nervous. My hands are trembling and the hair on the back of my neck is standing on end.

Thankfully, the silence is broken by the majestic doors opening slowly to reveal the silhouette of a tall figure. My mind is struck with a sudden pang on realisation: there's something strangely familiar about this shadowy figure. It's male. There's no doubt about it.

He waits until both doors have opened completely, and he takes a few steps forward in a confident stride, his image appearing clearly by the light of the chandeliers. He's beautifully armoured, and wears white gloves upon his hands. He holds a single red rose in his right hand. Around his waist is a leather belt, with a long-sword clad in its ebony sheath. A long, royal blue cape billows behind him in an imaginary wind. His face is stern yet unmistakably romantic, his black eyes eternal and mysterious, his raven hair a spiked flame.

Kami, he's so beautiful. There's no other way I would want to put it; he's just so beautiful. And he's mine: he's my prince.

He walks towards me, slightly slower than before, and penetrates my eyes with his, and overwhelms me with his power. I'm weak at the knees at the sight of him, my lips craving his, and my skin dancing impatiently, yearning for his touch. I'm hearing soft, delicate music, and I'm sure he is too. It's the haunting sound of a Spanish guitar. It plays a sensual ballad for us two only.

He stops about a metre in front of me and gets down on one knee. He gazes at me for a moment before speaking.

"Fairest maiden, I have been in search of you for so long." My cheeks are burning red from the flattery, and I can't stop myself from smiling. "As a small token of my love, I give you this rose. Its beauty reminds me of you, for you are both unparalleled." He stands up to full height and hands me the rose. I take it gratefully and close my eyes as I inhale its sweet scent. My prince takes my hand and raises it to his lips, kissing it gently.

"Thank-you, good sir. Your kindness shall not be forgotten."

The music continues to play its wonderful melody to us, as we both gaze into each other's eyes. I can do nothing more; I'm hypnotised by him.

"May I have this dance?" asks my prince Vegeta. His stance suggests that he is preparing to bow before me.

I smile at him, baring my straight white teeth, softening my expression as I look at him lovingly. "Yes, indeed you may." I curtsey at the same time he bows, and he takes my hand and leads me to the side. He puts his left arm around my waist and laces the fingers of his right hand with mine. We dance slowly around the huge hall to the phantom-like music, never once breaking the eye contact we've maintained for so long.

I feel the sudden urge to be closer to him, to hold him in my embrace. I place my arms around his neck and press my body to his, feeling the solid muscle hidden beneath his clothes. I can hear his heartbeat and smell the scent of his aftershave. I'm in heaven and I never want to leave. I rest my head upon his shoulder and breathe in his aroma. I feel as if I'm teen feet from the ground, my adrenaline pumping with passion yet my nerves feel wonderfully numb. He's wielded his magic over my control; I'm his forever, and I love it.

He caresses my back as we continue to dance away to the music. Electric tingles rush up and down my spine excitedly, a cold shiver travelling over my body. I hold him tighter and sigh in contentment. His body radiates an unsuppressed warmth and I realise that he isn't himself. He's different from what I remember of him; he's changed.

"Why do you trouble yourself with questioning thoughts?" he asks in a silky, soothing voice. I'm not sure I understand. I lift my head off his shoulder and look at him directly, slightly confused.

"How so? My thoughts rarely trouble me anymore." I sound as if I am trying to reassure him. 'He doesn't need my comfort, he's simply enquiring.'

"You dwell on questions. You wish to know why things have happened. You're trapped in an emotional plateau. Think not of the past, it has been and gone. You need only to focus on the here and now."

He gives me a small smile, yet I can still detect the old angry lines that used to play their parts upon his face. He hasn't frowned in years.

"Would it cause harm if I asked my last question?" I'm treading on hollow ground with my words. I'm being cautious with everything I say. I know he won't get angry with me, just disappointed.

His face is relaxed and still as beautiful as ever. I don't think I've offended him. "Ask wisely."

I swallow hard. 'This is not a test of your intelligence, you don't need to prove yourself to him.' I'm nervous about asking this question, but it must be said to his face. "Where are you?"

There's an unusual element to his expression, it's as if he was waiting for me to say those exact same words. He's probably just pleased with me, but this notion is cancelled out by the love that radiates from his voice, and the passion that ebbs from his striking, onyx eyes.

"I'm right here." He lowers his head and catches my lips with his, brushing them lightly and reigniting the flame that burns inside me.

"I know you are." I whisper softly to him. Our lips join together in an intense unison. He kisses me with such dynamism that it's hard to ignore the heat soaring throughout my blood. My heart's beating so fast that I think I've forgotten to breathe. Heaven's finally consumed me and has taken me as its obliging prisoner. I'm chained to this eternal bliss, revelling in the passion, gravitated back to my prince Vegeta; he and I will never part. Life nor death can separate us now; we are one.

We are the sun and moon, order and chaos, the Alpha and Omega. We are inseparable. And he has been with me all this time, but I've been looking straight through him as though he was invisible. He has been watching me, waiting for me to come face to face with him again. And this is it. This is my fate, this is our destiny.

**==*==**

Bulma awoke from her slumber with a start, tears streaming down her face and a cold sweat saturating her body.

"Vegeta? Vegeta! VEGETA! Vegeta where are you!?" Bulma clambered out of bed quickly and ran downstairs, crying hysterically. She made her way into the kitchen, looking around frantically for her lover.

"Oh Kami Vegeta where are you? I'm sorry for everything I've ever done or said to hurt you! Please come home. Vegeta!" Bulma continued to cry as she ran through various rooms of the house searching for the Saiya-Jin warrior prince. She knew that he wasn't there, but when she had woken up, she had felt a strong connection to his presence, almost as if he was with her in the bed whilst she was dreaming about him.

The sun was almost over the ridge and the dusky purple and pink sky was beginning to get lighter. Bulma unlocked the back door and sauntered into the garden, wondering where Vegeta could be. She caught sight of the Gravity Room and ran towards it hastily. Bulma grabbed the door-handle violently and forced the entrance open and stumbled inside.

"Vegeta?! Vegeta please, I need you here with me now! Why aren't you here?" Bulma's angry and frightened voice bounced and echoed off the white walls of the Gravity Room, making her feel even more lonely than before. She was in desperate need to come in contact with her lover once more. She couldn't bare living without him. Life felt tortuous, and believing he wouldn't return evoked more and more pain.

Bulma's breathing became laboured and she bawled to herself, not caring who or what could hear her. She backed into a wall and slid down, sitting on the floor in a heap. Her chest heaved painfully as she continued to cry. In between breaths she would whisper pleas to her lover, praying that he could hear her.

"I'd give everything up just to see you once more... why did you ever leave me? I love you so much Vegeta; why can't you just come home? Baby I've got to have you with me... this is killing me from the inside out. I feel like I'm starved of oxygen without you... life seems so worthless... Vegeta..."

~ * ~

A/N: There it is! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I loved writing this one, mainly because of the dream scene. I'm such a hopeless romantic! ^_^ Please review!!

In Chapter 4: "You deserved better than him, Bulma. Vegeta's not the kind of man to stay around and pay his dues. He's far too arrogant to do such a thing."

Bulma glared at him with burning embers for eyes, her bottom lip trembling with fury.

"I love Vegeta! Why can't you understand that? And why can't you let the past go and get on with your life?" screamed Bulma.

"Why can't you do the same? Come back to me. You and I can be together and have a life of our own." Yamcha ran his hands down Bulma's sides and stopped at her hips, before moving them up towards her breasts. He leaned into her neck and planted lustful kisses, in hopes of winning Bulma's heart.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"