Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Water Is Wide ❯ The Water Is Wide ( Chapter 1 )

AN:

Summary: Vegeta learns that no ocean of hate and despair is wide enough, that it cannot be breached with the help of a loved one. Post-Buu, BxV.

Disclaimer: Don't own DBZ - if I did, I'd turn Vegeta into my personal love-monkey.

Warning: This is slightly more darker than previous one-shots, but still filled with BV goodness.

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The Water Is Wide.

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Heat infused with flesh. A fever of the heart.

He could not stop this reaction. It was ingrained into each and every muscle, sinew and nerve of his physical body. He could not stop the heat; the passion. Spinning like a blustering tornado - it remained deadly and unbalanced, risking anything and everything to its fearsome wrath.

Bodies strained, sweat beading down slick and damp skins like oil clinging to a watery surface. He grinned wolfishly. The soft moans and gasps coming from beneath, rose higher with ardor and pleasure like the swell of an enormous tide. Cresting the wave, banked with pure distilled pleasure, he continued. Continued to drive their bodies towards the final breaking point. There would be a sweet stillness in her embrace, where before there had been none.

How had it come to this?

This feeling of absolution he received. Nightly. In her arms, in her life, in her.

But.

There was always a but.

It was not always so peaceful. The screeching half-mad warrior he had been was still there, hidden in the darkest tundras of his withered heart. He would arise occasionally, at the most inopportune of moments. Like at this very instant - he remained on the outer fringes of his mind. And he would somehow find the strength to bring himself forward. Especially with her. Whether it be with a scathing insult leaving her in tears, or a snide barb that would cause a rift. He would somehow manage to slip through and ingratiate himself with her.

All because of her undying acceptance of the man he had been. A monster, chained and shackled into the bonds of servitude to a creature more hideous and grotesque than himself; she had pulled him from the torn shreds of his sanity. Pulled him away from being the raving monster that was forged and created, and turned him into a man. She had thrust him into another place where he could finally rest and heal.

But because of that, the beast within him would always resent her on some level until he was fully recovered.

The evil creature that would have thought nothing about tearing her soft sweet body, limb from limb and using her like a whore, was something he had to constantly guard her from. She could never know. Never know how dark and black his thoughts could turn towards her and the little family they had created together on this tiny, unknown planet.

Even at moments like this, when he was gloriously above and within her, he could feel the control slipping on his walled thoughts. And that raving lunatic would try to spring forth from his cage like a daring panther ready to shred at his mind, bellowing with rage and despair at his own folly. At the foolish, soft feelings he embraced like no other in his lifetime.

Weak! It would shout. Pathetic! It would howl. Coward! It would snarl. Fool! It would scream. Unworthy! It would roar.

All of this anger and hate rising in his mind, hand in hand with the pleasure he felt from being with his mate, was something like poison to the fragile strands of his heart.

The strands that had been created as he shed his first tears in twenty years. The strands that had been woven the first time he touched his mate. The strands that had sung the day his firstborn was shown to him. The strands that unravelled as he wept tears of blood for his foolish pride, but had soon reforged again as he offered his life to protect the people he loved. Those very same strands that had jerked with delight and awe at the sight of his newborn daughter - a miniature replica of her mother. His family was all his. All of the good inside him and nothing of the bad.

Those beautiful, delicate strands were in constant danger of the Night Demon that yelled with fury in his breast.

And then it happened, on the cusp of their orgasms.

Everything dimmed, fading to black before alighting once more.

He blinked, looking down at his mate's beautiful face, and saw. The horrors of his absent-minded actions. The stuff made of his private nightmares, turned into reality. Of her face twisted in agony as she writhed beneath him and his harsh strokes that had not ceased. Her cries turning from pleasured gasps to pain as he pounded and tore away at all that was green and good between them.

This was not right.

He stilled fearfully within her. She whimpered, throwing an arm over her face and wailing softly into the red silk sheets.

Red silk?

Frowning, he levelled his gaze at his surrounding and almost roared with remembrance. He knew this place. Kami, he knew exactly where he was, but he couldn't believe it.

He was no longer on Earth, no longer in their chambers of Capsule Corp. A cold sense of dread swept through him, like a crisp golden leaf blown away by an autumn breeze. It was the Royal Chambers on Vejita-sei. His home-world.

Bile, vicious and cruel rose in his throat.

On the far side, a portrait hung above the stone hearth. It was of him, standing over his father before a sea of bloodied Saiyans. His father's heart was in his hand, clenched and raised to sky like a sacrificial offering.

The bile rose steadily as he looked back at his woman, watching him fearfully now with unshed tears. “Woman..?” He managed to rasp. Never had he seen her tremble and cringe from him in such a way. It was true, their first meeting had not been the best. But even then he saw that she would not be cowed. She was made of sturdy stuff, his mate, his lover, his beloved.

This mad, broken shell of a woman was not the one he was mated to, she was not his Bulma. She was someone else, though she looked exactly the same.

“O--Ou-sama?” She quivered, looking like hound that was fearful of its master.

King?

The blood in his veins froze like ice.

And then, as before, everything dimmed and turned to black.

He shook his head stupidly, turning his eyes back to the woman he had found the strength and courage to love. Yes, love.

She gazed up at him, no fear or disgust in shimmering sky-blue eyes. “Vegeta?” She looked confused, wondering why he had stopped, wondering what was wrong and if he was all right. For him. All for him.

Straddling his waist, she sat up facing him, their naked bodies pressed tightly together as he stared at her in muted shock.

He felt sick. Sick from what he had just seen and done, sick that the vision was over and that he had left Bulma, the other Bulma, to that monster's torment.

Quietly, she stroked his face, waiting for him to speak. “Tell me something, Bulma,” he started blankly and slowly, surprising her by the use of her name.

Confused, her silken arms wound around his thick neck as she remained in his lap, cradled to his heart. “What do you want to know?” Kami, that voice was so strong! Strong and sweet and utterly different from the fragile whisper he had heard calling him Ou-sama. This was his woman, in all her bountiful glory.

Swallowing the rock in his throat, he continued, unable to look at her face. “Mirai Trunks created separate timelines when he traveled into the past, did he not?”

Bulma nodded slowly, a few damp strands of blue hair sticking to her lashes.

He absently brushed them away. “If that is true, then is it possible for completely different dimensions to exist as well?”

Again, she nodded, her bright mind processing his questions with sharp insight. “It can be. There are many scientific theories that claim it is probable...” She trailed off, noting the haunted expression in his cold black eyes. An expression she had not seen for a long time. “Why?”

Mute, he shook his head, lowering her to the bed once more. He needed to forget – forget that image burned so brutally into his mind. The image of his mate lying broken beneath him, a shield and banner of pain and humiliation.

Bulma immediately stopped his wandering hands and looked up at him with such selfless concern. “Vegeta,” she whispered, “You're scaring me. Please tell me what's wrong.”

How could he refuse? How could he refuse when she looked at him with such openness and unwavering trust? Kami, she trusted him more than herself! Trusted him to keep her safe... How would he ever explain what he had seen, what he had done to her? It was as if the Night Demon had torn away something in his mind. Like a mental barrier that had been keeping his thoughts and world separate from his other self. The King. Ou-sama. And he was certain that if that particular dimension existed, then so would many others. Other dimensions where he and Bulma would not have this happy arrangement. Would not have this lasting peace.

Gods, what if--what if his Bulma had been left alone with his other self? The evil King?... Did she notice? Gnawing at the inside of his cheek, he turned his unfathomable dark, stony eyes to her. “Did you feel a change when we were together before?”

“Why?” She blinked.

“Answer me, woman!” He snapped, afraid and impatient.

Jumping at his abnormally harsh rebuke, she made a confirming sound. “Well, you did zone out for a little bit - went a bit harder and rougher.” She smirked, “It was kind of thrilling. You've never moved like that before; did you learn some new moves while I wasn't looking?” She asked slyly, trying to lighten the mood.

“This is no time to joke,” he growled.

Bulma froze, eyes wide as she took in her husband's rigid demeanor. He had gone deathly pale.

Vegeta shook, keeping his anger towards the Night Demon at bay. Rising from the bed, he began to pace, naked.

Something within him must have snapped because of the creature's constant torment, of that he was certain. But what? Would he go on like this for his remaining years? Living the different lives of the other Vegetas, seeing through their eyes and looking at the different dimensions through their eyes? If that was the case, then he would surely go mad. And it would be a danger to his woman.

He didn't think he could stand to see his mate harmed by his own hand, whether it be in this dimension, or another.

“I must leave,” he announced, startling her.

She rose angrily, perplexed. “What? To where?”

“Anywhere. I must leave or I will be a danger.” He didn't add, to you; to our children. He didn't need to – she could already see it in his eyes.

“The hell you are!” She snarled furiously, deeply afraid of the determination in his eyes. Bulma knew that this day would come. But she was ready.

“You don't understand!” Vegeta bellowed at her defiance in his decision. Why did she always have to fucking argue with him?

“Then tell me!” Bulma screamed back, fists clenched with an equal ferocity that startled him. She saw him hesitate and she began to speak quietly, “Tell me, and we'll work it out together. But... you can't just leave out of the blue. You can't leave me.” His uncertainty made her battle one, “I understand, more than you think I do, Vegeta.”

Vegeta jerked, stunned. He remained silent and let her continue.

“I see you fighting it every day. This thing that's inside your soul, in your heart,” tears blurred her vision. “I feel useless that I can't help but that doesn't mean I don't know what you're thinking in those dark, terrible thoughts.” He inhaled sharply. “The monster you were is warring with the man you are today and I know you're fighting it, but you're afraid that he'll come back. I'm right, aren't I?”

Vegeta's face became unreadable. His features morphing into a stone mask that left her crying out for the warmth of his embrace.

When he still didn't reply, she moved forward and encased him in her arms, unable to let go. “Those questions you asked... Did you ask them because you think you're mind breaking; that it is slipping into a different dimension because of the monster tearing at your mental barriers?”

He almost smirked. Clever, clever woman. Allowing her to keep her arms around him, he said, “It is dangerous woman. We know nothing of the extent to which depths it will slip. If my mind goes into another life, it will leave you and the brats vulnerable to whatever I have changed lives with.”

She stiffened, pulling back to look up at him with realization. He was saying that he might hurt them. “Let's go to Dende tomorrow. He'll know what to do.”

“The Namek-jin brat can't help,” Vegeta sneered emphatically, “My soul is too dark to cross the gulf between good and evil. It will not be enough to drive it from me and I will not hurt you, woman. Let it be and allow me to go,” he almost choked on the words as if there were a thousand blades in his mouth.

Bulma smiled softly, placing her palms against his chiseled cheeks. “No body of water is too great or so wide that it can't crossed. You're a good man,Vegeta,” she whispered fiercely, pressing her forehead to his. “I know you can beat this evil thing Frieza has created inside you. I know you can. Don't leave, not after everything we've gone through... Kami, I need you like I've never needed anyone before!” She kissed him then, feverishly and desperately to drive her point home.

Still, he wavered. What if it was too late to drive the demon from him?

“What did you see?” She asked, pulling away as she referred to his brief visit in another dimension. A dimension of utter hell, for her.

“I saw the unthinkable,” Vegeta murmured flatly, eyes growing hard and furious. “The unspeakable.”

There was blessed silence, and he knew her intelligent, pert little ass was conjuring up a thousand terrible images.

“Let Dende help you,” Bulma murmured gently after a while, against his lips. “Work with him to force that twisted monster out of you. Once he's gone, the barriers in your mind will strengthen and you won't find yourself in those other lives, those other Vegetas...”

He took a deep breath, and nodded.

And so it was, Vegeta took his first shaky step across that endless ocean of hate and malice. Towards redemption. Towards the light. Towards forgiveness.

Towards his mate.

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Owari.

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