Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the characters. I would LOVE to own Vegeta though... ::sighs::
Chapter Eight: Too Late
"You have no reason to cry, woman." - Vegeta
Same day
The brilliant weather the region had been experiencing lately had taken a turn for the worse early in the morning when it had rained for a few hours. Even after the downpour gray, dreary clouds continued to hide the sky, and the temperature had dropped to about fifty degrees.
Bulma sat behind Vegeta on their bed as she changed the bandage on his back. She smothered the cuts with bactine, but Vegeta didn't flinch from the burning. He just silently stared into the mirror at his own reflection.
Bulma glanced up now and again, but his solemn expression never changed. She sighed inwardly, still wishing he would open up to her.
But he never did, of course.
She still didn't know how the claw mark had gotten on his back. Neither of her hands had had blood nor skin under the nails. His hadn't either, although it would be impossible for him to cut himself in such a way anyway. There were only the slashes and the blood soiled sheets that had been thrown into the trash; no amount of washing would have removed the large stain. It was also strange that the cuts seemed to be healing very slowly. Vegeta usually healed very quickly when injured, but the scars showed no sign of mending soon.
Bulma finished changing the bandage, studied her handiwork for a moment, and then once again returned her gaze to her husband's blank stare in the mirror. He blinked, as if returning to reality, and their eyes met.
"Thank you," he whispered.
The phrase gave her a minor shock for an instant, it wasn't a common thing for him to say, but then she smiled at him warmly. "You don't have to thank me. I was happy to do it."
Without a word, he twisted around on the bed to embrace her. She hugged him back, careful to avoid the wound.
After a minute or two she realized his shoulders were shaking. He was crying again, burying his face in her neck. She felt the tears fall into the crook of her neck and slide down her shoulder blades.
"Vegeta," she said gently.
He raised his head and looked at her, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"You have to tell me," she continued. "Please. Hiding it from me can only make it hurt more."
He shook his head, eyes downcast.
"It can only hurt me, too."
Vegeta looked back at her face. She was weeping. He raised his hand and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.
"You have no reason to cry, woman."
"Yes, I do. You keep hiding this from me. The more you hold it in, the more pain it causes. And the more pain you are in, the more pain I feel for you. Why won't you tell me?"
Silence from her husband.
"You can tell me anything. Don't you know that? You know I wouldn't judge you."
More silence.
"Please, Vegeta. I'm begging you."
Still nothing.
She couldn't take this anymore. Every night he would wake up from his nightmare, and she would comfort him until he finally returned to his slumber, only to wake up five more times. Every night he would refuse to tell her what was wrong, even though she assured him that telling her would make him feel better. Every night she would see the same look of horror and anguish on his face. Every night she wished his pain would stop...
Suddenly, Bulma broke from their embrace, stood up, raised her hand, and slapped him across the face before she even knew what she was doing. Vegeta's head was jerked to the side, his left cheek tinged pink.
Bulma was still angry. "Shimatta! Tell me! I'm your wife for Dende's sake!" Her voice cracked and she sunk to her knees, crying. "Why won't you tell me?" she sobbed.
She felt him slide off the bed and kneel on the floor beside her. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. She glanced up at his face.
She reached up and stroked the cheek she had struck. "I- I'm so sorry. I... I just..."
"It's alright," he said softly. He took her chin and raised her head, kissing her on the lips. "I understand."
"Please tell me," she whispered.
"Do you really want to know?"
She nodded. "I want to help you. Please let me help you, Vegeta."
He was silent for a moment, then spoke. "In my nightmares... there's this woman and-" Vegeta stopped, staring at the window.
"And what?"
"There's something outside."
Bulma looked at the window too. From the floor she couldn't see anything past the glass. "What?"
"I'm not sure. It might be nothing." He got to his feet. "I'll be right back."
"It's cold. You should at least put on a pair of jeans."
He did as she requested without dispute, another behavior oddity.
"Hiking boots, too," Bulma added. "It's like a swamp outside."
Again, he obeyed. Then he left the room. Bulma watched from their window and saw Vegeta appear in the backyard. He walked further out into the yard, his boots sinking into the soggy soil, and stopped in the center. He looked around warily, a bit perplexed.
Bulma felt a chill shudder down her spine. The hairs on her arms and neck stood straight up. A feeling of dread overtook her senses. There was something wrong. Something bad was going to happen. She was sure of it.
She yanked open the window to call to her husband. A cold chill seeped into the warm room. "Vegeta?"
He looked over his shoulder.
Bulma saw the surprise and alarm in his eyes as the earth opened up beneath him and swallowed.