Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Hope Leaves ❯ 12 Black Rainbows ( Chapter 10 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

THIS CHAPTER: When things are at their worst, a chance at escape presents itself. But is Vegeta  even aware enough to realise it? In the meanwhile his double stirs up some serious trouble. Will Goten's desperate efforts to convince them make Bulma and Trunks see the truth?



'What do you think, should I go another one?' Myrrh asked, thoroughly enjoying himself.

'No, I think one shot will do for today. Remember, we mustn't rush this any more than is necessary.'

'Alright whatever,' he grumbled, staring at the wretched kid chained to the wall across the room from him, spitting up blood onto the laboratory floor. 'So what, are we done for the day?'

'Well no. I want you to try inflicting some less serious injuries. I want to see how fast bruises and superficial wounds will heal. Judging by his heart rate and blood pressure he's tolerating this wound a lot better than we would. Clotting seems to be more efficient too... for heaven's sake Myrrh, what are you doing?'

'Lookin for something. You don't happen to have any hammers or wrenches or, oh wait here's some, these should do the trick-'

Vegeta tried to ignore the deep ache in his gut for a moment and listened to the conversation, alarmed. So they were doing this to test his healing capacities? What did it matter to them? He was unable to fight in the state he was in, so how fast he could heal was inconsequential. If they intended on having him work for them, they would have to stop poisoning him, and if they did that, he would kill them. Either way they lost, so what was the point of all this? Once again, he marvelled at his ever amazing luck, to have been captured by a bunch of obviously mad scientists. At least, the freak with the note pad and the old lech were scientists. It was hard to tell what the idiot approaching him with tools was supposed to be doing here other than shooting at him, since the other two weren't man enough to do it themselves.

'I always wanted to be a tradesman when I was your age,' Myrrh explained, laughing at his own stunning wit as he swung the wrench at Vegeta's chest, opening up a wide gash that stung like a whip crack. The force of the blow surprised him, proving the man to be far stronger than he appeared. 'Nothing like fulfilling childhood dreams ey?'

The breath hitched in his throat, but he didn't look away from the man. He might sweat, gasp, cry out even, but he would not look away. What couldn't be said with words would be told with a gaze. It would be a warning to them all.

The 'experiments' seemed to go on forever. Perhaps there were days, among the many, when he slept, or was unconscious, but it was impossible to keep track of time. Even when they unlocked the chains, freeing the deformed mess that his body was becoming and permitting him to rest, the lecherous old man would join him to treat him wounds. Then the tests would continue, only he had little awareness of what was going on, experiencing only snatches of the nights through fragmented sleep. They were like dim nightmares- he couldn't see or hear, only feel the sickly turning of his stomach, the leathery old hands against his skin, the body heat and the suffocating weight, keeping him still, frozen and dreaming. And when he finally awoke, the days would begin again, the dawn always finding him chained to the same wall. He couldn't make out the weapon that was being used at the moment as they were always different, sometimes guns and other explosive weapons, sometimes blunt objects, other times blades, either coated with poison or not.

Whatever it was  came down again, this time striking his temple. With the blinding ache and dizziness came a powerful feeling of de ja vu, overcoming everything as he stared into the beady black eyes of his attacker, yes, they were familiar somehow, but where from? Sharp pains shot through Vegeta's head as strange images began to play out behind his eyes, images of the sky, the heavens, all the constellations, somehow contained in one small cave, and those same eyes he was looking into right now. But it was impossible, for the man in the cave was aged, and fat, not young and strong like the one who stood before him. That's madness, he thought. It's impossible to know one when they're old, then to meet them later when they are young. God, I'm losing my mind.

It was difficult to keep count of how many times he was struck. There was a vague awareness of pained cries echoing through the room, probably his own, but it seemed like they belonged to someone else, something else. With every passing moment reality wandered further and further away, ambling off into the distance and waving slowly as it went. Something very strange was happening. Pictures filled his mind like water, pictures of memories he'd never seen, belonging to someone he didn't know, and all in vibrant, senseless colours as though his head were the canvas of a madman. He saw strange lands on an unfamiliar planet, and unfamiliar people smiling that somehow weren't unfamiliar at all, for they too were saiyans, alive and well somehow, fighting alongside him against enemies that didn't exist. Last of all he saw sad, questioning red eyes, those eyes he'd looked into decades ago, though he could swear it had only been five or so years since that first woman he'd killed. Something was wrong with her face. It twisted horribly, but instead of becoming deformed and frightening, it slowly morphed and twitched into the face of a child, with empty hollows for eyes, glowing as though they were sparking into life.

What he saw when the face finally became whole was worse than any of this, worse than dying here, worse than facing Frieza, worse than surviving. A wordless scream welled up from inside a place so deep down he wasn't aware it existed, desperate to escape. A little girl stood before him, with hair like the sky and eyes like the sea, filled with confusion and despair as though she couldn't understand what was happening, innocently thinking it was all a terrible mistake. A hand rose involuntarily to destroy her, just as it had that first woman, and the screams of desperation kept dying in his throat. Her arms were outstretched, wanting him to hold her the way he used to, sincerely waiting for him to come back to himself, trusting him with every fibre of her being. Trust.   

'Myrrh!' Lennon said angrily. 'Mind his head would you? It's too risky, you mustn't harm his head, for the most part. Very few races can tolerate that, no matter how powerful they are.'

...
     
'Damn it all!' Lennon shouted, ripping the wires from his head and removing himself from the memory. 'The interference is getting worse and worse. Why...' his voice trailed off when he thought of something. It had been an exceptionally long time since Vegeta's physical body had been allowed to sleep. When sleep occurred within the memories, it appeared to provide some of the benefits of rest, and the physical inactivity reduced the bodies need for sleep s well. But now, after weeks, it was becoming painfully obvious that he couldn't delay the inevitable any more. He would have to allow it, for an hour, maybe even two. All these years of intense research and still, he knew very little about sleep. None of his techniques worked in the same manner during sleep, because the workings of the mind changed entirely. It would perhaps have taken another ten years to learn to control the intricacies of the sleeping consciousness, for while memories were one thing, dreams were another, a mystery for astrologists and sorcerers, not scientists. Yes, he'd have to play the waiting game for now, but that was alright, he was a patient man. After entering a sequence of commands into his computer, Lennon reclined in his chair. Three hours, that was all he needed to get through without disaster. Just three hours.

...

(Vegeta's POV, incase this is getting confusing)

Just as the raging heat of my energy is about to engulf the child, she flickers from before my eyes, becoming dust and dissolving into the air, as though she were never there to begin with. It's then I notice that everything else is gone, the room, the two men, everything, and I'm drifting along slowly in an empty void, free of the shackles that held me. Those two men... damn them, they're responsible for all of this! That's how I ended up here in the first place, in the past. Many things begin to come back as I float, memories of everything that has happened recently, the nightmare of being back on Frieza's ship, then in the castle with that girl, and now here. Yes, things keep changing without explanation, but regardless of what they've done to my mind, how could I just be noticing it now? Why did it feel so normal to me? I concentrate hard, focusing on my memories, until I recall a time, long ago, when I lived my life this way, often blacking out and finding myself in strange places. How I got by from day to day when I lived in such a disorganised, uncertain manner was a mystery, but I soon stopped questioning why I was frequently in the dark about where I'd been, what I'd done, and where I was now.

But I don't live that way now. I'm not a child any more, I'm not crazy any more, no, I never was-

'!!!!!!!!!!!!!'

A loud crash fills my ears, followed by an excruciatingly high pitched ringing sound which seems to come from both outside and within my head. I clamp my hands over my ears as memories begin to inundate my mind, things I thought I'd forgotten for good, things I'd convinced myself I'd imagined or dreamed, things contained until this manipulation of my mind unleashed them. When it finally ends, and I open my eyes, glistening white tiles dripping with condensation surround me. Why the fuck am I in a shower? I move my hands freely, no longer unable to control my movements which helps to lift my spirits, only to have them sink again when I realise I'm a child again, small and weak. What good is it being able to move freely in such a pathetic body? Not only that, but I'm still riddled with the wounds inflicted on me by those freaks, making me weaker still. Droplets trickle down the walls, sliding over me as I bang my head against the tiles in frustration until my blood runs freely towards the floor. Fuck this, fuck everything.

Again I look down, this time at the clean whiteness beneath me colouring with fine streams of  blood, and the sight of it sets something free in my head again, this time like a vehicle at the top of a hill without breaks. The realisation of why I'm here finally dawns on me. I may have regained physical control, but when are we ever in control, really? Control is just an illusion I've created for myself, just like every other person does, while life moves irreversibly forward, going where ever it will and pulling us along unwillingly. I feel myself slipping into the flashback, less and less able to contain it, unable to ground myself in reality. I am dreaming, but at the same time I'm not, because someone told me a long time ago that where I am now, dreams are real. I'm not on earth any more, I remember that now. Earth exists in the same physical space, but I'm apart from it and unable to touch it, held in this unfamiliar world by that machine in the cave. All that is inside my mind is real, and what is outside of it is the dream.  

I never should have fallen asleep.  


***


It was around 1.30am and the 'small gathering' of youths at capsule corps were still thoroughly and loudly enjoying themselves. Over the rucus of laughter, Brie jumped up from where she'd been sprawled across Trunks' lap, surprising him with the speed of her movements considering how much she'd had to drink. With a slight wobble she hopped up onto the table that they were seated at.

'That's it, I'm bored everyone! Lets play a drinking game!'

This seemed to vaguely interest the crowd, and several voices asked what she had in mind.

'Uhh...' there was a long pause. 'LET'S PLAY FUCK THE BUS!'

'Ow...' Trunks held his ear, having found her shrieking a little painful, and tugged on her skirt. 'I think you've had enough to drink, Brie.' This suggestion earned him a stab to the thigh courtesy of her left stiletto heel.

'Ouch! You feisty little bitch!'

'You love it,' she replied seductively, looking down at him with parted lips. He couldn't help but smile. 'Whatever you say,' he relented, picking up an unopened deck of card that somehow hadn't had alcohol spilled all over it by his drunken guests.

Goten wasn't as enthused about the game as everyone else seemed to be. He had had a enough to drink for one night and drinking only seemed to make him worry about the situation with Vegeta even more anyway. He'd always been more of a doer than a thinker and trying to come up with a workable plan was proving difficult for him. While the party continued and a miserable Goten sat alone with his head in his hands, one of the neighbours sat at her window, watching the incredibly noisy bunch and observing the white headed girl in the short skirt with disgust.

'Vulgar little tart,' Mrs White, a stern primary school teacher in her early forties, muttered to herself. 'Filthy mouth too. Hope my boys aren't up listening to any of this...' she cast a glance down the hall in the direction of the bedroom her twin boys shared. She then stared at her own bedroom door. If they kept it up, they'd wake up little Clarice, and then it would be impossible to settle her again. Another ten minutes and she was marching over there to speak to Bulma. This was ridiculous on a Thursday night! Wealthy people... they were always so inconsiderate of everyone else.

Exactly ten minutes later, (to the second in fact), Mrs White walked through the yard, passing a shaggy haired boy sitting on his own whom she often saw hanging around Capsule Corps with Bulma's son. She considered asking if he could go and quiet his friends down, but he didn't seem to acknowledge her presence although he surely would have seen her from the corner of his eye by now.

'Can't even be bothered saying good evening,' she whispered under her breath, annoyed with the rudeness of kids these days. Her boys wouldn't act like that, that was for sure. She went around the back, to the door she knew was closest to Bulma's upstairs bedroom, and firmly rapped on the door. When it finally opened, she was surprised to see the scientist's husband standing before her, watching impassively. Her mouth hung open for a moment, before she began to stammer.

'Vegeta... uh, good evening. Is your wife about?'

'She's out.'

'Out. Ok, well, would you mind having a few words? About all the noise in your back yard?'

He smiled openly, catching her completely off guard. For the pass few years Mrs White had joined Bulma for lunch every so often, and Vegeta would often eat with them then disappear, not saying a whole lot. Sometimes he'd be sitting outside when she was gardening and she'd pass him by, say hello, and he'd nod silently in her direction. This was the first time she'd seen him smile like that in the five years she'd lived here.

'Certainly. Come in, please.'

She hesitated, not wanting to go in at this time of night but not wanting to seem rude. After he asked her in several more times, practically insisting on it, she finally relented and accepted the offer whilst thinking with bewilderment that he'd said more to her in the last five minutes than in all the time she'd known him. She may as well discuss the issue with him properly anyway. There had been too many of these parties lately, and she was very worried about it becoming a regular thing.

Once they were seated in one of the smaller living rooms, Vegeta was the first to speak.

'Keeping you up are they?'

'Yes, and I don't mean to be a bother but it is quite late, and this isn't the first time this month that this has gone on. Don't forget that it's a school night.'

'I know, I know,' he said, looking amused, 'But you know, they're young. You can't be stern with them all the time. They need to... let their hair down, if you will. With all that studying, or whatever it is children normally do.'

'No Vegeta, I'm afraid I don't know. I don't know why there needs to be a party on a Thursday evening. If you would kindly ask them to quiet down, I might be able to get some sleep. I'm worried about my little one too, she's very sensitive to loud noises. I've told you about this, you and Bulma both. Now I don't mean to be rude, but I'm feeling like this is all a little inconsiderate.' She motioned out the window, then continued to twist her hands as she had been doing since she got inside. 'You don't know how difficult it is with a full time job, taking care of a special child *and* twins. One really does need their sleep.'

'I understand,' he replied sincerely, resting his hand over hers. This unnerved her considerably, and she looked into his eyes. She had always found him strange and unsettling. He was one of those men with a youthful face, but an old man's eyes. Somehow she hadn't been surprised when Bulma had revealed him to be more than ten years older than Mrs White's own husband had guessed him to be. Looking a little closer, she noticed how bloodshot his eyes were. She also caught the scent of whiskey as he exhaled.

'I'll ask them to take it inside. We have some sound proofed rooms. Just give them ten minutes, please,' he assured, never lowering his gaze once.

'Vegeta, have you been drinking?'

'A little,' he said calmly. 'I have a migraine.'

'Well, alcohol doesn't help migraines.'

'I've noticed. I've been hearing of this great new way to cure headaches. I was thinking of trying it out tonight,' he said with an odd smirk.

'Oh really...' she replied absent mindedly, focused on the despicable sight out the window.

'Who IS that girl? Not Trunk's girlfriend I hope,' she questioned nosily, staring at Brie who was turning cards over on the table and drinking alarming amounts of alcohol every thirty seconds. Her face was bright red with intoxication. 'My goodness, just look at her! Is she foreign or something?'

'Now now, you mustn't speak ill of her. She's the daughter of a very old friend you know. Father passed away when she was young. But to answer your question, she is foreign.'

'Oh dear,' Mrs White exclaimed, looking remorseful. 'Girls without fathers, it's such a sad thing. They lack guidance. Where's she from?'

'Very very far away. So far you wouldn't believe me if I told you,' he chuckled.

She looked at him with great irritation, as though he were telling a very stupid joke.

'Forgive me, but I don't recall your name. What was it again? He asked suddenly.

'Karen,' she looked offended. 'We've known each other for five years. How could you forget?'

He was looking at her very strangely, staring her up and down. Leering almost.

'You ought to let your hair down more often, Karen. It suits you. Women never seem to be pleased with having red hair, but I can hardly see what's wrong with it.'

'Well, that's very nice of you,' she stuttered nervously. 'I think I'll be off. Please call them in, would you?'

'Please,' he beckoned, placing his hand over hers again. 'Stay. Have a drink. No need to leave so soon.'

Mrs White stared at him in shock, hardly able to believe his behaviour. 'It's nearly 2 in the morning Vegeta. And you're drunk. Now if you'll please remove your hand, I'm going home to check on my children and get some sleep.'

He lowered his head and smiled at her again, but this time it much more disturbing, his dark eyes peering up from under his brow and his teeth, sharper than what was common for most people, exposed.

'Drunk? Me? Never!'

His grip was now incredibly tight.

'Let go, please,' she ordered very sternly, but her voice shook. 'I don't think you're feeling very well Vegeta. I think we ought to call your wife, don't you?'

'My wife hey? Know her do you?'

'Of course I know her! What's the matter with you?!'

'What's the matter with you? You're awfully uptight. But that's ok, the anger really lights up your eyes.'

'Stop it, please! Let go of my hand you crazy-' she was stopped mid sentence by the irrational man's fist connecting with her mouth. The punch sent her hurtling to the floor, the blood from her split lips splattering everywhere.

'Now just look what you've made me do,' he hissed, his voice a little higher pitched than usual all of a sudden. 'If there's one thing I can't stand, it's people calling me crazy. I am not crazy my dear, I am many things, but not that.' He knelt down to cover her bloody mouth with his hand just as a scream for help was about to emerge, then lifted her struggling form, carrying it into a dark corridor. It was impossible to see anything. Eventually they turned a corner, and she heard a door slam. He continued to ignore her muffled screams as he pushed her down roughly onto something that felt like a bed.

'You know how I told you I was going to try out that great new way to cure head aches? Well, you're going to be part a of my experiment. You ought to consider this an honour,' he said pleasantly as though he were discussing an upcoming holiday or something, and then began to chuckle. The chuckle quickly turned into crazed cackling as he tore her long, frumpy night gown in two, and began the process of tearing her apart from the inside out. The ravaging was like the feeding frenzy of a snake, having caught its prey in blindness, on feral instinct alone. It sank its fangs in, filling its prey with paralysing venom then began to gorge, mind free of compassion and dignity and focused only on consuming, on engulfing, on swallowing whole.

The next morning, Goten awoke begrudgingly to the sound of his mobile phone ringing. His head hurt, his eyes stung and he just wanted to remain asleep and forget about the problems at hand. When he lifted the phone with the intention of putting it on silent, he noticed it was Trunks who was calling. It was also 6 in the morning. Why would he be up this early after last night? Wouldn't he be skipping school and sleeping in? Reluctantly, he answered.

'What?'

'Goten, I know this is a bit of a weird time to call-'

'Just a bit, yeah-'

'Yeah yeah, I'm sorry, but it's important. Something happened last night. Uhh... I don't even know how to explain this. Later on in the night you were sitting away from the rest of us, sought of. Did you happen to see anyone weird walk into the neighbours backyard, and like, try to break into their house? Or even just go up to their front door, or anything like that?'

Goten sat up. 'No, why? What happened?'

'It's that lady next door, Karen White. You know, the teacher?'

'What, what happened to her?'

'She's dead...'

'What?! How? She was only young, like, my mum's age, how could she be dead?'

'Cause someone fucking killed her, that's how. That's why I'm asking you-'

'But who would do something like that, she was just a teacher, why would anyone-'

'Goten, just settle down and see if you can remember any helpful information, any little thing.'

'Did... did you see her?'

'I wasn't supposed to go over there, but I managed to sneak into the house. I really wish I didn't. God, all the bits of her were in bags.'

'Trunks-'

'Don't Goten, just don't. I really don't want to talk about it.'

There was silence over the line for some time. Then Goten gasped.

'What?' Trunks said morosely.

'I didn't see anyone at Mrs White's house last night, but someone crossed your yard and went round the back of your house. I think it might have been her!'

'Goten, that's ridiculous, they found her dead, in her bed. Her toddler too... the one with down syndrome. What the hell would she be doing round our place?'

'What?! They killed the little girl too?'

'Yes, they did alright?! Fuck. Who would fucking do that to a disabled kid...' his voice was starting to crack now.

'Oh God. Trunks, I know it sounds crazy, but I'm pretty sure she was at your house.'

'Why would she be at my house?!' he shouted, becoming very angry all of a sudden. 'What the fuck would she be doing there? What are you trying to say?'

'I'm not trying to say anything-'

'Yes you are, you are trying to say something and you know it! You think my dad did this don't you? You think she came around our house, and he did this to her, don't you?! Do you realise how stupid that sounds? Why would it happen that way, that doesn't even make any sense, and dad doesn't do that shit any more anyway. No one would ever believe that. He's not like that anymore, so screw you, if that's what you think.'

'I didn't say any of that Trunks. And I know he isn't like that anymore. He wouldn't do that. Have you and your mum been listening to anything your sister has been saying lately? Your dad hasn't been himself ever since he came back.' Now Goten was starting to get angry, because he was sick of not being listened to, sick of people treating him like an idiot all the time, and sick of the fact that no one would see what was right in front of their eyes.

'I can't believe this,' Trunks said finally, his voice low.

'Well, you're gunna have to, cause that guy, in your house, is Not. Your. Father.'

Goten got no reply, because Trunks had hung up.There was no way this situation could get any worse. Somebody innocent had just mysteriously died an unusually gruesome death and not a single person suspected Vegeta- or whoever he was- as the culprit, despite the fact that he was the only one who could have done it. Goten knew for a fact that he'd seen Karen in the yard last night, it wasn't lack of sleep, alcohol, or his already existing suspicions making him see things. He knew what he saw.

Bulma, that's who he had to call. She wasn't that much more rational than anyone else in her family sure, but he at least had to try. Someone had to believe him, and if Vegeta's family wouldn't, he'd go to his brother, and if things got absolutely desperate... his dad. Though that really would be a last resort. He didn't feel like talking to Goku at all at the moment.

Goten dialled the number and nervously waited for Bulma to answer, hoping she had no early meetings or anything like that. When she finally answered, he didn't even say hello, realising at that moment that he had no idea how to explain to her that some psycho was in her house impersonating her husband, who was God knows where at the moment. Usually he had Trunks around to do all the sweet talking and make up the crazy plans and in situations like this. His talent lay in helping to execute them.

'Goten, is that you.'

'Um.'

'If this is about my neighbour, I've heard. I'm coming straight home.'

'Um, well, it's kind of about that. You see, you're going to think I'm insane, but maybe I should just say this exactly how it is in my head. It's just that last night, when it was real late, I saw the neighbour in your back yard and she went round to the back door, and that's the last I saw of her and I know you probably won't believe me just like Trunks didn't but-'

'Goten, slow down, please, you're talking gibberish. Now start from the start, what is that you're trying to tell me?'

'I'm trying to tell you that your neighbour was inside your house before she died, and please don't think I'm insane, but Vegeta has been acting really weird lately, and I don't think that-'

'This isn't getting any clearer. Are you trying to tell me that-'

'Please Bulma, just let me finish. Like I said, Vegeta has been acting weird, and I don't think that he's really himself at the moment, as in, I think Vegeta still hasn't come back from where he disappeared to, and that guy in your house is just someone disguised as him. Now I know it sounds completely nuts, but you have no idea where Vegeta went all that time, so anything could have happened. Please, you have to believe me!'

'Goten, stop. Just tell me, plainly and simply, what all this has to do with my neighbour. Just be honest with me, OK? We'll deal with this thing about my husband in a moment.'

'I'm trying to tell you that Vegeta, no, whoever he is, killed your neighbour, that's what I'm saying.'

Silence. Goten braced himself for a worse ear bashing than what he'd gotten from Trunks.
 
'I see,' Bulma finally replied, a lot more calmly than he'd expected. 'Look, Goten, I know this is hard to believe, because Vegeta's done a lot of awful things in the past, and not just decades ago, but even as recently as the time Buu showed up. I know better than anyone the crimes he's committed, but I just want everyone to understand that he truly has changed, especially since Buu. He's changed so much. I know he wouldn't do things like that anymore. Now I know what your family and friends that know him probably tell you, but that's half the problem, nobody ever gives Vegeta a chance. I believe you when you say Karen was round my place last night. She probably came over to ask you guys to quiet down. I know Trunks had some kind of party last night. The truth is, it was probably one of the kids at the party who did this, as horrible as that sounds.'

Goten's heart was sinking very fast. At least when he'd shared these suspicions with his best friend, Trunks had seemed like he might have had similar thoughts, because he had gotten all defensive without Goten even saying anything about Vegeta murdering Karen. But it was obvious Bulma didn't have the slightest doubt in mind about her husbands innocence.

'Bulma I know he's changed, I believe that. But please, you've got to-'

'Stop. That's enough. I know he's been different since he came home Goten, I understand that. But for the most part its been for the better. He's doing things he's never made the effort to do before, after all these years. He's even going to take me and Bra on a little holiday. Sure we've been on trips before, but nothing he's orgnised himself.'

All the blood drained from Goten's head on hearing these words. 'Uhhhhm, that's nice, but *but* maybe you could consider, I don't know, postponing that for a little while so we can figure out what exactly is going on around here. Do you think it's a good idea, I think it's a pretty good idea, you know, be cautious, just like my mum always says-

-Click-

At the sound of Bulma hanging up, Goten drew his arm back, and launched the phone out the window and into the next dimension. After many a deep breath to calm his temper, he sighed miserably at the thought of how horribly he was failing to handle this.

'I shouldn't of mentioned mum,' he said aloud, and sighed once more.

This was fucked, with a capital fuck. Not only did Bulma and Trunks not believe him, but they were now going on a holiday with Vegeta which *he had planned*. He didn't do things like that and Bulma knew it, so what the hell was wrong with her?! No, wait, Bulma had said Trunks wasn't even going on this trip, and he was the only one who stood any kind of chance against his father should anything go wrong. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it. Who would believe his story? It even sounded crazy to him, although he knew inside that it was true and just couldn't put it into the words that people would understand due to his inarticulate nature. He knew Vegeta well, in a way better than his own father.

They'd become friends as the older man had loosened up over the years, surprisingly considering Goten was from the Son family. Sometimes they talked, occaisionally he'd even tell them stories of his past. Sometimes Bulma would get her husband to accompany the two boys when they went out to make sure they didn't get up to mischeif, though in reality Vegeta was capable of causing just as much trouble as either of them, especially when he'd been drinking. The three of them had had some crazy times together, but sadly there was no time to think about those happier memories now. Goten could see just by looking in Vegeta's eyes that man he knew was gone. The recognition had faded from them, and the spirit, leaving hollowness in its place. That was what he saw when their gazes met for just a moment last night. That man didn't know him, not at all. They'd looked at each other as strangers, passing by on an empty street. Goku was already as good as gone, he didn't want to lose Vegeta as well. So now what? What could he possibly do to bring his friend back?


***


(Flashback)

I'm lying in bed with as many layers of covers as I could find. Its so cold on the ship tonight. Its always cold, but tonight its phenomenal, so icy the water is freezing in the pipes. There are snow flakes floating through the depressing blackness out the one small circular window in my room, their intricacy and brightness the only thing breaking the monotony of endless night. The heater's haven't been switched on of course; when Frieza has the chance he likes to enjoy a little arctic weather.

Jeice is sitting up on his own bed beside me, shivering and sipping from a small flask.

'Have some whiskey,' he offers the flask. 'It will warm you up.'

I shake my head. 'Doesn't look like it's warming you up.'

'Is too. If it weren't I'd be under a mountain of blankets like you. Go on, have some.'

Not in the mood for being pestered for the next half hour, I take the flask and take a big gulp, then instantly start coughing and spluttering.

'Not so much dummy. It burns ya know, an you've never even had it before.' He's laughing at me now.

After the burning in my throat subsides, I'm pleased to see I do feel a little warmer, a weird, pleasant warmness in my belly.

'You wanna wrestle? I'm bored out of my brain.'

'I'm too tired,' I say, adding a yawn for effect. I agree with his sentiment of boredom though. We've been stuck on this ship for three months now, the longest I've been without a mission in the year and a half that I've been here, and everyone including me is going stir crazy. Still, I roll over and turn away. Wrestling with him is never particularly fun, it always ends up getting nasty. Or weird.

'Bullshit you are. Get up, stop bein lazy,' he whines, and I feel the tip of his boot jab the base of my tail. I growl at the discomfort.

'No.'

He keeps kicking at my tail.

'C'mon, don't be all boring.' He kicks harder, and this time it hurts. I turn around and hiss at him, my fuse getting shorter by the second.

'Bloody hell, you act like an animal sometimes, you do! C'mon, get up, don't be a pussy.'

Jeice pounces on me, wrestling me out of the covers roughly. He's really asking for it now. I lay into him, and he does likewise. Most of our fight is cheap shots, designed to take out our frustration at being cooped up for so long by hurting each other as much as possible. When I knee him in the balls as a reaction to be scratched across my neck, it's apparently the last straw.

'You little prick!' He cries, and slams his fist into my gut with impressive force. I crumple to the floor, spitting up saliva. After a few moments I feel Jeice put his arms round my waist and lift me up. 'Shit,' he says dumbly. 'Are you alright?' I can tell there's going to an enormous bruise there, but after a few minutes I stop coughing and spluttering and recover.

'Serves ya right.' He shakes me a bit, sounding pissed off. 'You don't go kickin people in the nuts, you can really hurt someone.' Then his voice softens as he slides his warm hands down my belly and over my thighs. 'Gotta be gentle with that stuff.'  

I try to wriggle away from him, the rage welling up in my chest, filling my lungs and tightening every muscle in my body. If he doesn't get his hands off in about 5 seconds, this is going to get ugly. I dont give a damn what happens, or how mad he gets. He could kill me, for all I care. 'Let go. I'm going to bed.'

'But it's so early.' The sentence is a little slurred, meaning the alcohol must have hit him. Early? There is no early in this shit hole. No early, no late, no sunlight, and no day, just one night that goes on an on for all eternity, never seeing the dawn. It's enough to make anyone crazy. I growl loudly, struggling with all my might to get free of his hands, groping hungrily. I can feel the veins in my head pulsating as if they want to get out, and I wish I could rip the hair right off my scalp. Then something unexpected happens. I feel my power spike rapidly, and my energy move outwards in a small explosion, strong enough to throw Jeice backwards against the wall. He stares at me first in shock, (and I imagine my expression is identical) then with narrowed eyes, the colour of his face deepening. I stare at my hands in wonder, trying to will that power to return to me so as to experience it again, but it seems to have oly been momentary, dissappearing like a flash of lightening. In the split second it takes me to look up, Jeice fades from before my eyes, and before I have time to blink I feel a powerful force slam into the back of my head, knocking me face down onto the floor  

  
NEXT TIME: Goten has a strange encounter. Vegeta is unable to push back the memories of his darkest day, and time is running out for action to be taken. However, Bulma might be in far worse trouble if she doesn't wake up to herself.












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