Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ What Dreams May Come ❯ Waiting for the Fall ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Jessibelle67 
Laying the ground work. Vegeta is troubled by images from is past. Mean while Bulma's life couldn't be better.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 12.30.2002 | Updated On: 10.21.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 1.4K | Status: Work In Progress
Laying the ground work. Vegeta is troubled by images from is past. Mean while Bulma's life couldn't be better.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 12.30.2002 | Updated On: 10.21.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 1.4K | Status: Work In Progress
Before anyone gets offended by anything I'm about to say, please know that I am guilty of writing all the things I'm about to list. ^_^
What you will NOT find in this fic: There will be no repeated breaking of the gravity machine. Bulma's parents will not disappear and reappear from various "business trips" and "vacations" only when it becomes convenient for Bulma and Vegeta to have sex. Vegeta will be capable for getting his own food. The word baka will not appear anywhere in the story. Since I have no strong feelings either way for this character, there will be no Yamcha bashing to speak of. He will not be a serial killer/ rapist/ stalker/ jealous scorned ex-lover who kidnaps Bulma and tries to force her to love him. Oh and there will be no gushy confessions of love from any party.
What you WILL find in this fic: Swearing, explicit sex, angst, passion, compassion, love, hate, disgust, acceptance, and any other number of emotions that comes from trying to pair these two love birds together. There will be extensive abuse of the dream sequence effect (hence the title) and a whole lot of confusion going on. You got to love it. ~_^ Plus I give you my girl scouts honor (So what if I was a girl scout ten years ago and haven't been back since.) to keep the players as in character as possible.
Chapter one
"Waiting for the fall"
The room thudded with the reverberation of a pounding heartbeat. A single soul occupied the sparce bed as he clawed his way to the surface of consciousness and away from the maddening nightmares. The fading peals of cackling laughter died in his ears as the nightmare faded back into the mist of his mind. He bolted up right in the bed, eyes wide and wild, searching for any familiar scrap that might betray a clue to his current location.
The modest room lay dark and dormant. The warmth of summer night's heat made the air thick with humid oppression. Perspiration stuck to his skin like a strangling blanket. A small clock, one of the very few possessions to share his space, sat patiently on the dresser by the wall. The patterned ticks seemed to roar into the silence; slowly overcoming the frantic beats of his calming heart.
For almost a year now Vegeta had occupied this small corner of the world famous Capsule Corporations compound, yet it was still as foreign as any one of the alien planets he had destroyed in his youth. Nothing in this place was familiar. Nothing brought him comfort. Not that he had ever known comfort in his life, except maybe for a few fleeting moments as a small child on his home planet. But that planet was destroyed long ago, reduced to little more then galactic debris floating in space. He had not had a true home in over twenty years, and since that day he never would again.
As his discordant breathing finally slowed he flung the cotton sheets off his body, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Plush carpeting cradled his feet, another subtle reminder that he was far from the place he expected to be. Waking up in strange surroundings was nothing new, but it disturbed him every time. Where he expected to find the dingy iron walls of the cell that had been his living quarters for so long, in their place was the spacious guest room that the Briefs family deemed his to inhabit. Instead of the filthy rags he'd grown accustomed to, his body was covered with clean white sheets, still fragrant from recent washing. The breeze coming from the open window held no hint of blood or burnt flesh, but rather smelled sweet and fragrant from the summer roses blooming in the gardens below.
This place, with its thick carpeting, white walls and clean sheets, was safe. Safe, the word reverberated in his mind like a sacred mantra capable of holding all his demons at bay.
He ran a hand through his course black hair and sighed. Would he ever get used to this? He might have grown accustomed to not having a home, but waking up in a place that meant him no harm? That was a completely foreign idea. For too long he'd been forced to have suspicions of his surroundings due to his early life. It was that life that robbed him of his innocence as a child and that life robbed him of sleep now. He wondered if there would ever be a morning when he wouldn't wake up wondering where he was and what was lurking in the shadows.
Vegeta, the mighty prince of all saiyans afraid of the dark. He had to snort at such a ridiculous idea. Spending enough time in Freeza's army would make even a seasoned soldier wary. But, he reminded himself; he was not on Freeza's ship anymore. The disgusting purple lizard was dead and had been for almost a year now.
All of Freeza's armies were destroyed, Vegeta had seen to that personally. No longer was he anyone's slave. He was a proud saiyan prince who had the rest of his life to do as he pleased...
But still he was not free.
The constant nightmares, the echoing pleas of his victims begging for mercy, the uneasy feeling that what ever he did, where ever he went, it was all just temporary. He lived with the acceptance that in an instant it could all come crashing down.
Naked to the night air, he padded over to the open window. The Capsule Corp. building sat far enough away from the capital that the general public did not disturb it. Still the twinkling lights from the city's skyscrapers could be seen plainly from the other side of the domed structure. His room faced the spacious gardens and lawns on the grounds. If his room had faced the other direction it was uncertain how his fragile psychosis would have faired against the constant anticipation of waiting for the city to burst into flames, as he had seen and cause so many other civilizations to do before.
Not accounting for the first five years of his life, he had never before spent such an expansive amount of time on one planet before. Let alone spent any amount of time on any planet without being under direct orders to destroy it's inhabitants. Every earth day that ticked by without incident was another day he lay in wait for the destruction to come. No peace lasted, not when it came to his life. He did not expect, nor did he feel he deserved this life of indolence. Fate must be planning a cruel joke indeed for his reverie to last this long. So until the punch line came his own paranoia robbed him of the sleep his over exerted body so desperately begged for.
The clock ticked on the dresser, reminding him of the hour. After only two and a half hours of nightmare-ridden sleep, he slipped into some training shorts and a pair of sneakers. Not bothering to waste time exiting in a normal fashion, he flew out the window to the dormant globe occupying a small portion of lawn below. Bright light accosted his eyes while the human-made machine powered up. A few hours of bone bruising training would give his mind some focus. Lost in the familiar ballet of kicks and punches was the only place he felt whole. Violence was something he could hold on to. It was the life he'd been force to live and it was the only thing he had come to trust. Peace may be a fleeting notion, but the feel of your opponent's ribs snapping beneath your fists, that was real.
* * *
Morning sun filtered in through the sheer drapes. A wind chime hung from the window frame. The light on the crystals cast prism rainbows on the ceiling and walls as they twinkled softly. The light summer breeze rustled the silken tendrils of a young woman lying in bed trying desperately to tug back the blurred edge of receding sleep. Her hair, that had not so long ago been curled and poofed in a frizzy halo around her head, now lay sleek and relaxed around her sleeping features. The sea blue silk that usually fell to shoulder length now lay splayed across the bed in the mimic picture of an oceanic wave. The crystalline chimes played rainbows across her hair and face, a subtle call to acknowledge the morning light.
Bulma turned and burrowed deeper into the plush mattress, eager to escape the cheery sunlight. She despised waking up. Groaning, she fumbled for a pillow to pull over her head. The searched proved fruitless because they had all been knocked on the floor over the course of the night.
Finally relenting the search for the long gone pillows, she slowly opened her eyes to the sunlight fanned across her face. For a few seconds she was content to simply lie basking in the warm glow. The weather had been uncharacteristically hot this summer; later today the temperature would reach into the nineties, possibly higher, but for now the warmth was bearable, pleasant even. She stretched her body with a feline grace before setting her feet on the carpeted floor. Running delicate fingers through her hair she moved to fetch a robe form the closet. Choosing one made of light cotton; she tied the sash over her short nightgown. With any luck her mom would have started breakfast already. If not, due to her extreme lack of culinary talent, she would be forced to go another day on Cheerios and milk. With all due respect to Cheerios, they got a little dull by the fourth day.
She passed Vegeta's room on the way to the stairs. Even with the door closed she knew he wasn't inside. By now the Briefs had grown accustomed to the saiyan's early training schedule. In all actuality his presence at the compound effected the family very little. Of course, there was the large sum of money spent on food and equipment. Also, Bulma had insisted on buying him a new wardrobe. Except for the pink shirt and yellow pants she gave him as a joke, the only possessions he owned were the broken armor from Namek. Along with came a set of gold tipped boots, a pair of white gloves, his black body suit, and a pair of black training shorts underneath it all. Now he had a closet full of cloths he never wore and a dresser stuffed with training outfits that were constantly being worn out.
As vile a man as Bulma believed him to be, at least he was quiet. For the most part he kept to him self and only bothered her father on occasion when some training equipment needed repair, which was quite often. It had been her superficial personality that got him living there in the first place. All she saw was a good-looking man with no place else to go. So entranced by his body and dark, handsome face, she choose to over look the glaringly large fact that he was a intergalactic murderer who originally came to earth with plans to exterminate the human race and sell the barren planet to the highest bidder. Not to mention that he caused the death of her boyfriend, who she went to Namek to wish back in the first place. Of course once Vegeta left to find Goku in space she hadn't actually expected him to return. Now it seemed that his gravity chamber was an immovable fixture in her backyard and the saiyan prince a permanent house guest at Capsule Corp.
But all that didn't matter this morning. Right now she had a brand new project at work and later a date with her boyfriend. Thinking of Yamcha always put a goofy smile on her face. It wasn't even nine AM and already the day was looking to turn out pretty good.
* * *
Giving her boyfriend one last lingering kiss good-bye Bulma closed the door and sighed. She couldn't imagine how life could be any happier. Okay, so she could have done without the impending threat of androids programmed to kill all her friends coming in about two years. If you over looked that small detail, she was as happy as she had ever been. Yamcha was great, she had two fantastic parents, a vice-presidency at the world's highest grossing company and enough money to buy all the mint chocolate chip ice cream she could ever want. There was no denying it, life was good.
Slipping out of an uncomfortable pair of black heels, she padded over to the freezer for her favorite ice cream. Grabbing the half-pint carton and a spoon, she hopped up on the kitchen counter. Even in a mid-thigh length, black cocktail dress with her hair pulled back into a tight bun; she still looked like a little kid with her feet swinging back and forth, a spoon handle sticking out of her mouth. From her perch on the counter she could see the night stars shining through the kitchen window. As beautiful as a sight it was, it looked incomplete without the moon. As a child, she had been desperately obsessed with the moon. Placed in high school classes by the age of nine, she didn't have many friends as a child. Normal children don't usually want to play with "the brainy kid". Without friends for entertainment, she made up stories to occupy her self. More often then not she would invent fantastic tales of being a princess living on the moon with her own crystalline palace. There was always a villain to steal the beautiful princess Bulma away from her beloved home and lock her up in a dark tower. And then there was the prince. While most little girls were dreaming of their Ken doll as being the perfect man, with his sandy hair, pearly white smile, and beach bunny tan; Bulma always thought of her prince as being the tall, dark and handsome type. And now she had him. Yamcha was her knight in shining armor come to take her away and make all her dreams come true.
With a stomach full of ice cream and a head full of childish dreams, she hopped off the counter and wandered up the stairs to bed. Tonight she would dream of her prince, what could be more perfect then that?
* * *
Author's note: In case anyone was getting sketchy on the whole moon princess thing, this story has nothing to do with sailor moon. That's just Bulma's childhood dreams and such. I'm trying to be a subtle with the wording and imagery but just notice that all the stuff that involves Yamcha to her is kind of put in childish, little girl fantasy terms. That's all I'm saying for now. Vegeta is going to be the other side of the coin.
Next chapter: Like the girl said, Bulma dreams about her 'prince'. Hmmm, that's funny, Veggie has an interesting dream too.
What you will NOT find in this fic: There will be no repeated breaking of the gravity machine. Bulma's parents will not disappear and reappear from various "business trips" and "vacations" only when it becomes convenient for Bulma and Vegeta to have sex. Vegeta will be capable for getting his own food. The word baka will not appear anywhere in the story. Since I have no strong feelings either way for this character, there will be no Yamcha bashing to speak of. He will not be a serial killer/ rapist/ stalker/ jealous scorned ex-lover who kidnaps Bulma and tries to force her to love him. Oh and there will be no gushy confessions of love from any party.
What you WILL find in this fic: Swearing, explicit sex, angst, passion, compassion, love, hate, disgust, acceptance, and any other number of emotions that comes from trying to pair these two love birds together. There will be extensive abuse of the dream sequence effect (hence the title) and a whole lot of confusion going on. You got to love it. ~_^ Plus I give you my girl scouts honor (So what if I was a girl scout ten years ago and haven't been back since.) to keep the players as in character as possible.
Chapter one
"Waiting for the fall"
The room thudded with the reverberation of a pounding heartbeat. A single soul occupied the sparce bed as he clawed his way to the surface of consciousness and away from the maddening nightmares. The fading peals of cackling laughter died in his ears as the nightmare faded back into the mist of his mind. He bolted up right in the bed, eyes wide and wild, searching for any familiar scrap that might betray a clue to his current location.
The modest room lay dark and dormant. The warmth of summer night's heat made the air thick with humid oppression. Perspiration stuck to his skin like a strangling blanket. A small clock, one of the very few possessions to share his space, sat patiently on the dresser by the wall. The patterned ticks seemed to roar into the silence; slowly overcoming the frantic beats of his calming heart.
For almost a year now Vegeta had occupied this small corner of the world famous Capsule Corporations compound, yet it was still as foreign as any one of the alien planets he had destroyed in his youth. Nothing in this place was familiar. Nothing brought him comfort. Not that he had ever known comfort in his life, except maybe for a few fleeting moments as a small child on his home planet. But that planet was destroyed long ago, reduced to little more then galactic debris floating in space. He had not had a true home in over twenty years, and since that day he never would again.
As his discordant breathing finally slowed he flung the cotton sheets off his body, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Plush carpeting cradled his feet, another subtle reminder that he was far from the place he expected to be. Waking up in strange surroundings was nothing new, but it disturbed him every time. Where he expected to find the dingy iron walls of the cell that had been his living quarters for so long, in their place was the spacious guest room that the Briefs family deemed his to inhabit. Instead of the filthy rags he'd grown accustomed to, his body was covered with clean white sheets, still fragrant from recent washing. The breeze coming from the open window held no hint of blood or burnt flesh, but rather smelled sweet and fragrant from the summer roses blooming in the gardens below.
This place, with its thick carpeting, white walls and clean sheets, was safe. Safe, the word reverberated in his mind like a sacred mantra capable of holding all his demons at bay.
He ran a hand through his course black hair and sighed. Would he ever get used to this? He might have grown accustomed to not having a home, but waking up in a place that meant him no harm? That was a completely foreign idea. For too long he'd been forced to have suspicions of his surroundings due to his early life. It was that life that robbed him of his innocence as a child and that life robbed him of sleep now. He wondered if there would ever be a morning when he wouldn't wake up wondering where he was and what was lurking in the shadows.
Vegeta, the mighty prince of all saiyans afraid of the dark. He had to snort at such a ridiculous idea. Spending enough time in Freeza's army would make even a seasoned soldier wary. But, he reminded himself; he was not on Freeza's ship anymore. The disgusting purple lizard was dead and had been for almost a year now.
All of Freeza's armies were destroyed, Vegeta had seen to that personally. No longer was he anyone's slave. He was a proud saiyan prince who had the rest of his life to do as he pleased...
But still he was not free.
The constant nightmares, the echoing pleas of his victims begging for mercy, the uneasy feeling that what ever he did, where ever he went, it was all just temporary. He lived with the acceptance that in an instant it could all come crashing down.
Naked to the night air, he padded over to the open window. The Capsule Corp. building sat far enough away from the capital that the general public did not disturb it. Still the twinkling lights from the city's skyscrapers could be seen plainly from the other side of the domed structure. His room faced the spacious gardens and lawns on the grounds. If his room had faced the other direction it was uncertain how his fragile psychosis would have faired against the constant anticipation of waiting for the city to burst into flames, as he had seen and cause so many other civilizations to do before.
Not accounting for the first five years of his life, he had never before spent such an expansive amount of time on one planet before. Let alone spent any amount of time on any planet without being under direct orders to destroy it's inhabitants. Every earth day that ticked by without incident was another day he lay in wait for the destruction to come. No peace lasted, not when it came to his life. He did not expect, nor did he feel he deserved this life of indolence. Fate must be planning a cruel joke indeed for his reverie to last this long. So until the punch line came his own paranoia robbed him of the sleep his over exerted body so desperately begged for.
The clock ticked on the dresser, reminding him of the hour. After only two and a half hours of nightmare-ridden sleep, he slipped into some training shorts and a pair of sneakers. Not bothering to waste time exiting in a normal fashion, he flew out the window to the dormant globe occupying a small portion of lawn below. Bright light accosted his eyes while the human-made machine powered up. A few hours of bone bruising training would give his mind some focus. Lost in the familiar ballet of kicks and punches was the only place he felt whole. Violence was something he could hold on to. It was the life he'd been force to live and it was the only thing he had come to trust. Peace may be a fleeting notion, but the feel of your opponent's ribs snapping beneath your fists, that was real.
* * *
Morning sun filtered in through the sheer drapes. A wind chime hung from the window frame. The light on the crystals cast prism rainbows on the ceiling and walls as they twinkled softly. The light summer breeze rustled the silken tendrils of a young woman lying in bed trying desperately to tug back the blurred edge of receding sleep. Her hair, that had not so long ago been curled and poofed in a frizzy halo around her head, now lay sleek and relaxed around her sleeping features. The sea blue silk that usually fell to shoulder length now lay splayed across the bed in the mimic picture of an oceanic wave. The crystalline chimes played rainbows across her hair and face, a subtle call to acknowledge the morning light.
Bulma turned and burrowed deeper into the plush mattress, eager to escape the cheery sunlight. She despised waking up. Groaning, she fumbled for a pillow to pull over her head. The searched proved fruitless because they had all been knocked on the floor over the course of the night.
Finally relenting the search for the long gone pillows, she slowly opened her eyes to the sunlight fanned across her face. For a few seconds she was content to simply lie basking in the warm glow. The weather had been uncharacteristically hot this summer; later today the temperature would reach into the nineties, possibly higher, but for now the warmth was bearable, pleasant even. She stretched her body with a feline grace before setting her feet on the carpeted floor. Running delicate fingers through her hair she moved to fetch a robe form the closet. Choosing one made of light cotton; she tied the sash over her short nightgown. With any luck her mom would have started breakfast already. If not, due to her extreme lack of culinary talent, she would be forced to go another day on Cheerios and milk. With all due respect to Cheerios, they got a little dull by the fourth day.
She passed Vegeta's room on the way to the stairs. Even with the door closed she knew he wasn't inside. By now the Briefs had grown accustomed to the saiyan's early training schedule. In all actuality his presence at the compound effected the family very little. Of course, there was the large sum of money spent on food and equipment. Also, Bulma had insisted on buying him a new wardrobe. Except for the pink shirt and yellow pants she gave him as a joke, the only possessions he owned were the broken armor from Namek. Along with came a set of gold tipped boots, a pair of white gloves, his black body suit, and a pair of black training shorts underneath it all. Now he had a closet full of cloths he never wore and a dresser stuffed with training outfits that were constantly being worn out.
As vile a man as Bulma believed him to be, at least he was quiet. For the most part he kept to him self and only bothered her father on occasion when some training equipment needed repair, which was quite often. It had been her superficial personality that got him living there in the first place. All she saw was a good-looking man with no place else to go. So entranced by his body and dark, handsome face, she choose to over look the glaringly large fact that he was a intergalactic murderer who originally came to earth with plans to exterminate the human race and sell the barren planet to the highest bidder. Not to mention that he caused the death of her boyfriend, who she went to Namek to wish back in the first place. Of course once Vegeta left to find Goku in space she hadn't actually expected him to return. Now it seemed that his gravity chamber was an immovable fixture in her backyard and the saiyan prince a permanent house guest at Capsule Corp.
But all that didn't matter this morning. Right now she had a brand new project at work and later a date with her boyfriend. Thinking of Yamcha always put a goofy smile on her face. It wasn't even nine AM and already the day was looking to turn out pretty good.
* * *
Giving her boyfriend one last lingering kiss good-bye Bulma closed the door and sighed. She couldn't imagine how life could be any happier. Okay, so she could have done without the impending threat of androids programmed to kill all her friends coming in about two years. If you over looked that small detail, she was as happy as she had ever been. Yamcha was great, she had two fantastic parents, a vice-presidency at the world's highest grossing company and enough money to buy all the mint chocolate chip ice cream she could ever want. There was no denying it, life was good.
Slipping out of an uncomfortable pair of black heels, she padded over to the freezer for her favorite ice cream. Grabbing the half-pint carton and a spoon, she hopped up on the kitchen counter. Even in a mid-thigh length, black cocktail dress with her hair pulled back into a tight bun; she still looked like a little kid with her feet swinging back and forth, a spoon handle sticking out of her mouth. From her perch on the counter she could see the night stars shining through the kitchen window. As beautiful as a sight it was, it looked incomplete without the moon. As a child, she had been desperately obsessed with the moon. Placed in high school classes by the age of nine, she didn't have many friends as a child. Normal children don't usually want to play with "the brainy kid". Without friends for entertainment, she made up stories to occupy her self. More often then not she would invent fantastic tales of being a princess living on the moon with her own crystalline palace. There was always a villain to steal the beautiful princess Bulma away from her beloved home and lock her up in a dark tower. And then there was the prince. While most little girls were dreaming of their Ken doll as being the perfect man, with his sandy hair, pearly white smile, and beach bunny tan; Bulma always thought of her prince as being the tall, dark and handsome type. And now she had him. Yamcha was her knight in shining armor come to take her away and make all her dreams come true.
With a stomach full of ice cream and a head full of childish dreams, she hopped off the counter and wandered up the stairs to bed. Tonight she would dream of her prince, what could be more perfect then that?
* * *
Author's note: In case anyone was getting sketchy on the whole moon princess thing, this story has nothing to do with sailor moon. That's just Bulma's childhood dreams and such. I'm trying to be a subtle with the wording and imagery but just notice that all the stuff that involves Yamcha to her is kind of put in childish, little girl fantasy terms. That's all I'm saying for now. Vegeta is going to be the other side of the coin.
Next chapter: Like the girl said, Bulma dreams about her 'prince'. Hmmm, that's funny, Veggie has an interesting dream too.