Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ What Dreams May Come ❯ Darkness ( Chapter 4 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Jessibelle67 
A dream? A memory? The begining of a spiral into darkness.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.11.2003 | Updated On: 10.21.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.8K | Visits: 812 | Status: Work In Progress
A dream? A memory? The begining of a spiral into darkness.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.11.2003 | Updated On: 10.21.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.8K | Visits: 812 | Status: Work In Progress
Last Time: Bulma and Vegeta shared another dream, and they actually exchanged words.
'Nother Warning: There will be NO Yamcha/Bulma citrus scenes in this story, but there sex life is hinted at. Bare with me, it'll get better.
~ * Name * ~ If you don't know by now this is the last time I'm going to remind you. :P Perspective in dreams.
Chapter Four
"Darkness"
Walking down the busy street, people stopped to stare at the handsome couple. One woman turned to her husband and whispered, "Isn't that the baseball player from TV? And is that Bulma Briefs he's with?" Her husband never answered, he was too busy staring at the aqua haired scientist's short skirt.
Going on dates was always a chore. The people on the street, the restaurant, or anywhere else they went would always watch her and Yamcha's every move. On occasion a pack of smitten girls would work up the courage to approach them and beg Yamcha for an autograph. It made Bulma sick, but Yamcha ate the attention up with a spoon.
"So," she snuggled closer to his arm, glaring at the latest group of starry-eyed female fans. "What did you think about the movie? I thought the ending was killer."
"I don't know Babe, I thought the hack and slash scenes were a bit much. Do they have to make it look so... real?" He squirmed in remembrance of the film's bloody climax.
"'Course they do, otherwise it wouldn't be as entertaining," she laughed.
"That was entertainment, two hours of blood and guts?"
"Well you certainly seemed to enjoy watching the lead character's cleavage," she threw back wryly.
Yamcha panicked and began to stutter, "I was not Babe, you know you're the only girl for me. Besides," he put a hand behind his head and laughed in his cute childish way. "They put her in as little clothes as possible, it was a little hard not to see."
"Well, that's true," she laughed again, before turning more mischievous. "Speaking of less clothing, you are spending the night, right?" She whispered playfully in his ear.
He smiled back at her, "If you insist."
* * *
His eyes were blood shot and his hair more wild then usual, if that was possible. Vegeta had adamantly avoided sleep the past few days. He reasoned that if he worked himself into total exhaustion, when he finally passed out from over exertion, he'd be too tired to dream. That woman had been plaguing his thoughts ever since their last encounter. Every time her blurred image flashed in his mind's eye he'd abrade himself for losing concentration over such trivial matters. As punishment he barred all thoughts of rest from his mind till it was absolutely necessary. It would appear that that time was quickly approaching; His movements were sluggish and slow, multiple time he'd been caught in his own energy blasts.
Outside the window is was plain that night had already fallen. If he kept up this pace, he'd be too tired to move by morning, which would do nothing but hinder his training. Powering down the gravity machine he returned to his room for a well needed shower. On the way he sensed another ki in the building.
<Must be that pathetic excuse for a fighter, what's-his-name, > he thought distastefully. He made a mental note that once he finally destroyed Kakorrot, he'd do this planet a favor and rid it of that wimp as well. The way that blue-haired harpy doted over the pitiful human you'd think he was the savior of the universe. Vegeta smirked; it had taken no more then a simple saibaman man to kill him, truly pathetic.
After a trip down stairs to empty the refrigerator, Vegeta finally went to bed for some well deserved rest. Besides he wanted to be a sleep before the 'happy couple' next door could anything within his sensitive hearing range that would make him sick.
~ *Vegeta* ~
The throne room was dimly lit with candles mounted in the wall sconces. A small boy stood in the middle of the room shaking, powerless to do anything but. He'd been brought here for a punishment and the results would not be pretty. Never the less, he held his head high and awaited his fate with all the courage an eight year old could muster. Freeza sat before him, languidly sipping a glass of red sangimore*, a special liqure mixed with blood that was made exclusively on the Icejin's planet. He drank in the boy's fear along with the bitter liquid.
Vegeta stood apart from the scene watching the child version of himself tremble at Freeza's mercy. A bad place to be considering as how Freeza had none. At least this time he would only be forced to watch the beating rather then relive it. Still he couldn't help but cringe as Freeza rose from his chair and backed handed the young prince across the room. The child went flying and hit the wall with a sickening thud before sliding boneless to the floor. Freeza wrapped his long tail around the child warrior's throat and held him up, all the while abusing him verbally. He was telling Vegeta the well-worn mantra of just how weak and pathetic the saiyan race truly was, or what was left of it anyway. He went on to say how incompetent they must be for failing to follow his orders. The grown Vegeta willed him self to wake, hoping that for once it would work, but, or course, it didn't.
* * *
Bulma frown slightly while staring at the man sleeping beside her. They had made love and as always she'd been left wanting.
<Will it always be like this? > She wondered. Would Yamcha always just fulfill his own pleasure before rolling off her and falling asleep? She was sure that his shrewd lovemaking was not intentional but it still hurt her deep down. For years she forgave his lack of skill to his natural nervousness towards the fairer sex, but that excuse did not hold up in light of his history with women. Bitterly, she remembered the time she found he'd been cheating on her.
Long ago she promised to forgive him; she still wasn't sure if she had.
Taking one problem at a time, she pushed all memories of his past betrayals away to focus on the present. Didn't he care enough to see that she had never eve once reached climax? Thoughts like these worried her. She loved Yamcha and assumed that one day they would be married, but would their sex life always be this…dull?
Sighing in defeat she curled next to her boyfriend's side and drifted to sleep.
~ *Bulma* ~
The corridor was large and dark; all the lights had been extinguished in this part of the building. Taking a moment to check her surroundings, it was clear to Bulma that she had never been in such a place before. There was nothing here to tell her where she might be or what was going on.
Muffled sounds came from a door down the hall. She took a tentative step towards it, then another. The noises grew slightly louder. Then, with out warning the door broke apart as the body of a young boy was thrown through it. He slammed into the wall, leaving a dent before he slid to a crumpled heap on the floor, covered in cuts and blood. His left arm hung at a painful and unnatural angle.
Bulma watched in awe as the small child painfully rose to one knee. His head hung down while he took large gulps of air. Hearing foot steps from the room he'd come from, his head jerked up. The stern young face was unable to mask his fear. Bulma shivered at the thought of such an innocent young child being beaten so. The look of fear and hopelessness combined with his uncontrolled shivering was too much for her to handle. She ran to the boy's side and knelt down, wrapping him in her arms, as if her simple embrace could protect him from all the pain. The boy seemed to take no notice of her presence and continued to shake. Laying her head on his small shoulder she whispered calming words that everything would be all right, even though she had no idea what was happening to him or who was doing this. Tears trailed down her face as on overwhelming sense of sorrow overtook her heart. She didn't know what had brought on such a dream but it felt as real as any memory she possessed. And this little boy's fear and pain felt as tangible as her own feelings.
Wrapped up in her emotions, she barley took notice that the ominous footsteps had halted and the hallway had faded to indiscriminate black.
~ *Vegeta* ~
Vegeta watched the brutal beating of his younger self at Freeza's hands. He cringed as the Icejin threw the boy's battered body across the thrown room, straight through the door to the servants' hallway. The white beast laughed cruelly at the sight of Vegeta's young, crumpled body. Vegeta watched in a sickened awe as the child lifted his broken body up to one knee. Freeza, upon seeing that his charge was still conscious, decided to prolong his amusement. He started a long, slow walk meant to strike terror for the things to come once he reached his destination.
And then suddenly, she was there.
The same woman from his other dreams. She knelt by the boy's side, arms folded about his shoulders in a caring embrace. She mumbled words too soft for him to hear but he could tell they were meant to soothe. The young version of him self did not seem to take any notice of her presence, nor did the menacing icejin. Vegeta felt his body calm, like a blanket of warmth had been thrown over him. Suddenly, he felt safe. The memory faded away to blackness. There was no Freeza, no berating of his young body, no terrifying memory. It all faded to a quiet stillness.
~ *Bulma* ~
The tears fell warm, wet and real down her cheeks. She clung to the shaking figure in her arms, trying to take all the pain away. She looked down in awe as the boy's image dissolved from her arms, as well as the hallway along with him. Slowly it all gave way to the dim black of nothingness. Standing, she searched all around her for some sign of he frighten child or the nightmare that had been hurting him. Turning a slow circle, she gasped when her eyes lay upon the man. That same man she had dreamed about twice. He was staring at her with a quiet curiosity, as if she had just done something remarkable.
A feeling of sadness passed over her when she looked into his eyes. There was something familiar about this feeling. He was less guarded; his feeling bubbled fresh to the surface of those beautiful black eyes. In once glance she saw the pain, remorse, and the slightest tinge of old fear. Brining a hand to her mouth she gasped as the pieces fit together. He was that little boy. She felt the same pang of remorse from him as when she had looked upon that poor broken and beaten child.
Careful in her approach, she took guarded steps till she was standing directly in front of him. Her eyes burned into his, wanting nothing more then to show him that her intentions were good. Whatever you want to call it, motherly affection; woman's intuition; of just plain soft-hearted sincerity; all she wanted was to take his hurt away. Not caring whether this was a meaningless dream or not, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight.
~ *Vegeta* ~
This was unexpected. In a moment when he should have been reeling in emotion, his mind had gone blissfully blank. He absorbed her comfort like a parasite feeding from a host. Loosing his rough exterior for a few moments he buried his face in her hair. She smelled familiar but in this dream like state his senses were muted. Just as he could never see her clearly to make out a face, he couldn't fully decipher where he had caught such a scent before. Her tears made soft wet lines down his neck, almost cold enough to burn. She was crying, for him? There wasn't a time in his life he could remember a situation like this presenting it's self, certainly never in real life.
Still, it felt…wrong. Something about this creature before him sobbing over his pain was not right. Why should such an ethereal being as this care for the feelings of a cold, dark warrior as him? He knew that her actions were not out of pity, still he wouldn't allow himself to accept her comfort. Pushing her away he turned his back to her, trying desperately to rebuild the shattered pieces of his perpetual cold exterior. But the lay of her warm hand on his shoulder was almost his total undoing. She walked around to face him again. Pausing in self-consciousness for a moment, she pulled him forward to lay a breath of a kiss onto his smooth lips.
~ *Bulma* ~
Her mind reeled and the world spun on this one small action. She couldn't explain why she was doing what she was, but it felt important. Somewhere in the grand scheme of her life, something inside her shifted. Why was she sharing this chaste kiss with a stranger? A dream? Suddenly all the kisses she has shared before seemed dull and insignificant in the faint brush of this man's mouth.
When she pulled back, a look of mortified shock on her delicate face, she looked down at his chest, unable to meet his face. Deep inside her she was saying that this was wrong. Still, another part of her didn't care. Pushing the first voice aside, she started forwards intent on meeting his mouth again. Her lips had just barely brushed his again….
***
"Babe," Yamcha mumbled, half awake. "Bulma, wake up."
"Hmmm," She gasped. It took a few seconds before her eyes adjusted to the dark and she could see Yamcha's sleep rumpled face in front of her. "Yamcha?"
"You were expecting someone else?" He joked, smiling at her. Little did he know how ironic his humor was.
"Oh, no," she mumbled. "Why did you wake me up?" Part of her was happy and another part was…well.
"I got up to use the bathroom and when I came back you were crying in your sleep. It was really weird." He yawned. "You ok?"
"I'm fine, "she lied shakily. "Just some weird dream, I guess."
He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. "Told you, you shouldn't watch those horror flicks, now they're giving you nightmares," he mumbled before dosing off to sleep again.
Bulma lay awake, unable to sleep. Snuggled close in Yamcha's embrace she felt cold and detached… and a little guilty.
<This doesn't make any sense, > she told her self, logically. She'd had a few dreams, nothing more. Stress, or bad food, or something equally inconsequential probably brought them on. It was no reason to get all upset.
Still, she remembered how real it all felt. That little boy's pain mirrored in the eyes of that man. The feel of both of them in her arms when she held him. Sighing, she came to the last bit, the brush of his lips against hers. A little shiver shot right through her stomach. She scolded herself for being so silly. He's isn't real, she had not cheated on her boyfriend and she was far too old to be acting like a giddy school girl. Set with determination, she lay back to sleep, fruitlessly trying to ignore her tear soaked pillow.
* * *
Author's note: *sangimore is a word I half made up, half remembered from a book I read. Basically sang is French for blood so I thought it fit for what Freeza would drink.
Next Time: Bulma feels guilty and doesn't know why. Vegeta's confused and pissed (when isn't he?) Yamcha and Bulma's relationship waivers…
'Nother Warning: There will be NO Yamcha/Bulma citrus scenes in this story, but there sex life is hinted at. Bare with me, it'll get better.
~ * Name * ~ If you don't know by now this is the last time I'm going to remind you. :P Perspective in dreams.
Chapter Four
"Darkness"
Walking down the busy street, people stopped to stare at the handsome couple. One woman turned to her husband and whispered, "Isn't that the baseball player from TV? And is that Bulma Briefs he's with?" Her husband never answered, he was too busy staring at the aqua haired scientist's short skirt.
Going on dates was always a chore. The people on the street, the restaurant, or anywhere else they went would always watch her and Yamcha's every move. On occasion a pack of smitten girls would work up the courage to approach them and beg Yamcha for an autograph. It made Bulma sick, but Yamcha ate the attention up with a spoon.
"So," she snuggled closer to his arm, glaring at the latest group of starry-eyed female fans. "What did you think about the movie? I thought the ending was killer."
"I don't know Babe, I thought the hack and slash scenes were a bit much. Do they have to make it look so... real?" He squirmed in remembrance of the film's bloody climax.
"'Course they do, otherwise it wouldn't be as entertaining," she laughed.
"That was entertainment, two hours of blood and guts?"
"Well you certainly seemed to enjoy watching the lead character's cleavage," she threw back wryly.
Yamcha panicked and began to stutter, "I was not Babe, you know you're the only girl for me. Besides," he put a hand behind his head and laughed in his cute childish way. "They put her in as little clothes as possible, it was a little hard not to see."
"Well, that's true," she laughed again, before turning more mischievous. "Speaking of less clothing, you are spending the night, right?" She whispered playfully in his ear.
He smiled back at her, "If you insist."
* * *
His eyes were blood shot and his hair more wild then usual, if that was possible. Vegeta had adamantly avoided sleep the past few days. He reasoned that if he worked himself into total exhaustion, when he finally passed out from over exertion, he'd be too tired to dream. That woman had been plaguing his thoughts ever since their last encounter. Every time her blurred image flashed in his mind's eye he'd abrade himself for losing concentration over such trivial matters. As punishment he barred all thoughts of rest from his mind till it was absolutely necessary. It would appear that that time was quickly approaching; His movements were sluggish and slow, multiple time he'd been caught in his own energy blasts.
Outside the window is was plain that night had already fallen. If he kept up this pace, he'd be too tired to move by morning, which would do nothing but hinder his training. Powering down the gravity machine he returned to his room for a well needed shower. On the way he sensed another ki in the building.
<Must be that pathetic excuse for a fighter, what's-his-name, > he thought distastefully. He made a mental note that once he finally destroyed Kakorrot, he'd do this planet a favor and rid it of that wimp as well. The way that blue-haired harpy doted over the pitiful human you'd think he was the savior of the universe. Vegeta smirked; it had taken no more then a simple saibaman man to kill him, truly pathetic.
After a trip down stairs to empty the refrigerator, Vegeta finally went to bed for some well deserved rest. Besides he wanted to be a sleep before the 'happy couple' next door could anything within his sensitive hearing range that would make him sick.
~ *Vegeta* ~
The throne room was dimly lit with candles mounted in the wall sconces. A small boy stood in the middle of the room shaking, powerless to do anything but. He'd been brought here for a punishment and the results would not be pretty. Never the less, he held his head high and awaited his fate with all the courage an eight year old could muster. Freeza sat before him, languidly sipping a glass of red sangimore*, a special liqure mixed with blood that was made exclusively on the Icejin's planet. He drank in the boy's fear along with the bitter liquid.
Vegeta stood apart from the scene watching the child version of himself tremble at Freeza's mercy. A bad place to be considering as how Freeza had none. At least this time he would only be forced to watch the beating rather then relive it. Still he couldn't help but cringe as Freeza rose from his chair and backed handed the young prince across the room. The child went flying and hit the wall with a sickening thud before sliding boneless to the floor. Freeza wrapped his long tail around the child warrior's throat and held him up, all the while abusing him verbally. He was telling Vegeta the well-worn mantra of just how weak and pathetic the saiyan race truly was, or what was left of it anyway. He went on to say how incompetent they must be for failing to follow his orders. The grown Vegeta willed him self to wake, hoping that for once it would work, but, or course, it didn't.
* * *
Bulma frown slightly while staring at the man sleeping beside her. They had made love and as always she'd been left wanting.
<Will it always be like this? > She wondered. Would Yamcha always just fulfill his own pleasure before rolling off her and falling asleep? She was sure that his shrewd lovemaking was not intentional but it still hurt her deep down. For years she forgave his lack of skill to his natural nervousness towards the fairer sex, but that excuse did not hold up in light of his history with women. Bitterly, she remembered the time she found he'd been cheating on her.
Long ago she promised to forgive him; she still wasn't sure if she had.
Taking one problem at a time, she pushed all memories of his past betrayals away to focus on the present. Didn't he care enough to see that she had never eve once reached climax? Thoughts like these worried her. She loved Yamcha and assumed that one day they would be married, but would their sex life always be this…dull?
Sighing in defeat she curled next to her boyfriend's side and drifted to sleep.
~ *Bulma* ~
The corridor was large and dark; all the lights had been extinguished in this part of the building. Taking a moment to check her surroundings, it was clear to Bulma that she had never been in such a place before. There was nothing here to tell her where she might be or what was going on.
Muffled sounds came from a door down the hall. She took a tentative step towards it, then another. The noises grew slightly louder. Then, with out warning the door broke apart as the body of a young boy was thrown through it. He slammed into the wall, leaving a dent before he slid to a crumpled heap on the floor, covered in cuts and blood. His left arm hung at a painful and unnatural angle.
Bulma watched in awe as the small child painfully rose to one knee. His head hung down while he took large gulps of air. Hearing foot steps from the room he'd come from, his head jerked up. The stern young face was unable to mask his fear. Bulma shivered at the thought of such an innocent young child being beaten so. The look of fear and hopelessness combined with his uncontrolled shivering was too much for her to handle. She ran to the boy's side and knelt down, wrapping him in her arms, as if her simple embrace could protect him from all the pain. The boy seemed to take no notice of her presence and continued to shake. Laying her head on his small shoulder she whispered calming words that everything would be all right, even though she had no idea what was happening to him or who was doing this. Tears trailed down her face as on overwhelming sense of sorrow overtook her heart. She didn't know what had brought on such a dream but it felt as real as any memory she possessed. And this little boy's fear and pain felt as tangible as her own feelings.
Wrapped up in her emotions, she barley took notice that the ominous footsteps had halted and the hallway had faded to indiscriminate black.
~ *Vegeta* ~
Vegeta watched the brutal beating of his younger self at Freeza's hands. He cringed as the Icejin threw the boy's battered body across the thrown room, straight through the door to the servants' hallway. The white beast laughed cruelly at the sight of Vegeta's young, crumpled body. Vegeta watched in a sickened awe as the child lifted his broken body up to one knee. Freeza, upon seeing that his charge was still conscious, decided to prolong his amusement. He started a long, slow walk meant to strike terror for the things to come once he reached his destination.
And then suddenly, she was there.
The same woman from his other dreams. She knelt by the boy's side, arms folded about his shoulders in a caring embrace. She mumbled words too soft for him to hear but he could tell they were meant to soothe. The young version of him self did not seem to take any notice of her presence, nor did the menacing icejin. Vegeta felt his body calm, like a blanket of warmth had been thrown over him. Suddenly, he felt safe. The memory faded away to blackness. There was no Freeza, no berating of his young body, no terrifying memory. It all faded to a quiet stillness.
~ *Bulma* ~
The tears fell warm, wet and real down her cheeks. She clung to the shaking figure in her arms, trying to take all the pain away. She looked down in awe as the boy's image dissolved from her arms, as well as the hallway along with him. Slowly it all gave way to the dim black of nothingness. Standing, she searched all around her for some sign of he frighten child or the nightmare that had been hurting him. Turning a slow circle, she gasped when her eyes lay upon the man. That same man she had dreamed about twice. He was staring at her with a quiet curiosity, as if she had just done something remarkable.
A feeling of sadness passed over her when she looked into his eyes. There was something familiar about this feeling. He was less guarded; his feeling bubbled fresh to the surface of those beautiful black eyes. In once glance she saw the pain, remorse, and the slightest tinge of old fear. Brining a hand to her mouth she gasped as the pieces fit together. He was that little boy. She felt the same pang of remorse from him as when she had looked upon that poor broken and beaten child.
Careful in her approach, she took guarded steps till she was standing directly in front of him. Her eyes burned into his, wanting nothing more then to show him that her intentions were good. Whatever you want to call it, motherly affection; woman's intuition; of just plain soft-hearted sincerity; all she wanted was to take his hurt away. Not caring whether this was a meaningless dream or not, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight.
~ *Vegeta* ~
This was unexpected. In a moment when he should have been reeling in emotion, his mind had gone blissfully blank. He absorbed her comfort like a parasite feeding from a host. Loosing his rough exterior for a few moments he buried his face in her hair. She smelled familiar but in this dream like state his senses were muted. Just as he could never see her clearly to make out a face, he couldn't fully decipher where he had caught such a scent before. Her tears made soft wet lines down his neck, almost cold enough to burn. She was crying, for him? There wasn't a time in his life he could remember a situation like this presenting it's self, certainly never in real life.
Still, it felt…wrong. Something about this creature before him sobbing over his pain was not right. Why should such an ethereal being as this care for the feelings of a cold, dark warrior as him? He knew that her actions were not out of pity, still he wouldn't allow himself to accept her comfort. Pushing her away he turned his back to her, trying desperately to rebuild the shattered pieces of his perpetual cold exterior. But the lay of her warm hand on his shoulder was almost his total undoing. She walked around to face him again. Pausing in self-consciousness for a moment, she pulled him forward to lay a breath of a kiss onto his smooth lips.
~ *Bulma* ~
Her mind reeled and the world spun on this one small action. She couldn't explain why she was doing what she was, but it felt important. Somewhere in the grand scheme of her life, something inside her shifted. Why was she sharing this chaste kiss with a stranger? A dream? Suddenly all the kisses she has shared before seemed dull and insignificant in the faint brush of this man's mouth.
When she pulled back, a look of mortified shock on her delicate face, she looked down at his chest, unable to meet his face. Deep inside her she was saying that this was wrong. Still, another part of her didn't care. Pushing the first voice aside, she started forwards intent on meeting his mouth again. Her lips had just barely brushed his again….
***
"Babe," Yamcha mumbled, half awake. "Bulma, wake up."
"Hmmm," She gasped. It took a few seconds before her eyes adjusted to the dark and she could see Yamcha's sleep rumpled face in front of her. "Yamcha?"
"You were expecting someone else?" He joked, smiling at her. Little did he know how ironic his humor was.
"Oh, no," she mumbled. "Why did you wake me up?" Part of her was happy and another part was…well.
"I got up to use the bathroom and when I came back you were crying in your sleep. It was really weird." He yawned. "You ok?"
"I'm fine, "she lied shakily. "Just some weird dream, I guess."
He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. "Told you, you shouldn't watch those horror flicks, now they're giving you nightmares," he mumbled before dosing off to sleep again.
Bulma lay awake, unable to sleep. Snuggled close in Yamcha's embrace she felt cold and detached… and a little guilty.
<This doesn't make any sense, > she told her self, logically. She'd had a few dreams, nothing more. Stress, or bad food, or something equally inconsequential probably brought them on. It was no reason to get all upset.
Still, she remembered how real it all felt. That little boy's pain mirrored in the eyes of that man. The feel of both of them in her arms when she held him. Sighing, she came to the last bit, the brush of his lips against hers. A little shiver shot right through her stomach. She scolded herself for being so silly. He's isn't real, she had not cheated on her boyfriend and she was far too old to be acting like a giddy school girl. Set with determination, she lay back to sleep, fruitlessly trying to ignore her tear soaked pillow.
* * *
Author's note: *sangimore is a word I half made up, half remembered from a book I read. Basically sang is French for blood so I thought it fit for what Freeza would drink.
Next Time: Bulma feels guilty and doesn't know why. Vegeta's confused and pissed (when isn't he?) Yamcha and Bulma's relationship waivers…