Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ or the characters. If I did, I would be rich as Bill Gates, and I would be able bribe my way into the publishing industry so I could make even more money off my fics.
Notes: Some lemon-type junk in here, but nothing graphic. I don't do hentai, so don't expect it.
Chapter Six: Prayers
I know I can help him if he would just speak to me. - Bulma
April 3, Tuesday à 8 days until the eclipse
-Bulma-
Another scream. It does not shock me awake, however; I've actually become accustomed to his anguished cries, a kind of cruel routine.
He reaches for me in the dark, and I take him into my arms as he sobs shamelessly over my shoulder, his arms hugging my waist. I am his only refuge from the terrifying visions in his sleep. My love comforts him.
He's been like this for days, and I still have no idea what is going on. He refuses to tell me anything, maybe because he thinks he can deal with it, or maybe because he's too damn proud. I tried to give him an opiate to make him sleep, but he refused the offer, perhaps because then he may be trapped in the nightmare. He only wants me to comfort him by holding him until he succumbs to sleep again.
Or by making love.
On the second night of the nightmares it was the only thing I could do to make him relax. I initiated it, caressing him and kissing him, my fingers and lips calming his nerves as they traveled across his body. I pulled him into a sitting position, bracing my legs around his torso and wrapping my arms around his neck. He held me close and kissed me softly, so gently that he actually purred. We made love, slowly rocking together until he was completely calm. Then he gave me a longer, more passionate kiss and lay with me on the bed, falling asleep in my arms.
But other times he is too frightened, violently trembling, to make love. So I put my arms around him and he rests his head against me until he falls asleep.
I let him finish crying and continue with the routine. I take his face in my hands, my palms on his cheeks, so I can look into his bleary eyes. I gently ask him, almost beg him this time, to please, please tell me. What is so horrifying? What is it he sees when he sleeps? I know I can help him if he would just speak to me.
But he just closes his eyes and shakes his head. He will not tell me. I can't say I'm surprised. I am not even sure he could if he wanted to. His entire body is shaking, an aftereffect of the nightmares. It would be difficult for him to form one syllable clearly.
We lay back down and I hold him in my arms; he curls up against me. I have never seen him this vulnerable. The trembling lessens and lessens until he is perfectly still, asleep, me cradling his head in my lap.
I am on the verge of tears myself. Wishing so much for my prince to confide in me. Wishing so hard it hurts. I lightly brush my hand across his cheek, the loving caress making his tense muscles relax. As I stroke his widow's peak, I pray for the nightmares to leave him, to let him be in peace.
It is then that I notice the dark stain slowly spreading across the sheets near my husband's back. I press my fingers on the mark and they, too, become stained. I see more of the substance on my forearms. I sniff the liquid, and a shock jolts through me.
I turn on the light. No... No, it can't be. How could this happen? I stare at the crimson stain, then at my spouse. I gently tilt him to the side a bit and crane my neck to see his back.
I cannot hold back a gasp as I see five fresh, deep scratches in his flesh.
-Vegeta-
Bulma is in a horrified panic, severely disturbed at the sight of the blood. I hadn't even noticed the stinging sensation in my back until she shook me awake, ordering me into the bathroom so she could bandage me.
I wait there, sitting on the edge of the tub, as she rummages through the cabinet under the sink for gauze and other first aid supplies. As she searches she asks what happened to my back, but I cannot answer her. I had been trying to dismiss the nightmares as what they were: mere dreams, but...
I start as the soreness suddenly gets worse, but it's only Bulma applying a wet, soapy washcloth to the wound, dabbing at the slashes carefully. She's given up on her questions, now concentrating on dressing the wounds.
I close my eyes, and immediately open them again. I saw her. Again. Whenever I close my eyes, even when I blink, she is there. Still ripping open my flesh, clawing through the muscles, tendons, and arteries. Still gazing at me apathetically with her shining gray eyes, irises that glint like the blade of a sharp dagger. Eyes that gleam with every quake of pain that convulses through my body. Eyes that-
"Vegeta?"
I feel her hand on my arm and my unfocused gaze shifts to her concerned face.
"Vegeta," she continues, "you're so pale. Are you okay?"
I give no reply as I stare at her, absently commenting to myself how beautiful she is.
She, however, continues to ramble. "Answer me! Do you feel lightheaded? Maybe you lost too much blood. You might need a blood transfusion-"
"I'm fine, woman," I say, the words coming out barely above a whisper.
Her hand reaches out and touches my face, her fingers caressing my cheek. "You don't look fine," she disagrees. "Your face is practically white, and you feel so cold..."
I take her hand from my face and hold it, my eyes never leaving hers as I rub my thumb across her fingers. "I'm alright, Bulma."
She is doubtful, I can see. She hesitates before replying. "Vegeta," she says quietly, "if you want to talk to me, you can."
I release her hand. "No."
She sighs and continues to bandage the wounds, muttering something about "damn baka stubborn Saiyajins."
My thoughts return to their wandering state as I wonder if I will be able to sleep tonight without seeing her. Tearing at my skin. Gnawing on my flesh.
Biting and clawing.
Biting and clawing.
Biting and clawing...
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In less than one day I will be fully energized. I will capture my conduit and prepare him for my takeover of the planet. I will flood his body and mind with negative energy to turn him back to the dark ways, so the evil will flood through his veins again. I will not tolerate any room for failure.
And I will not fail.
I smile to myself, as my power continues to rise to its maximum. It was a nice touch, adding the gashes on his back. It is not easy to do psychically, but it uses little of my energy and the tearing of his flesh is so exhilarating to me.
I can't wait to do it in person.
I cannot take credit for the dreams, though. That is just the fates trying to warn him. But all the nightmares do is terrify him even though he knows they are only dreams. An accident of fate you'd say. I can't help but chuckle at the fates' foolishness.
I can sense that the society is actually very close to translating the entire scroll. Good for them. I'm fine with that. They can just go ahead and continue on their useless little quest to save this ridiculous planet.
It'll be too late by the time they finish anyway.
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