If Only In Heaven's Eyes

Songfic based on the song by N*SNYC

By Zed

DISCLAIMERS: Don't own the song or any of the characters. I'm only a high- school student and therefore berefit of anything of monetary value, which would make suing me a pointless endeavour, so do not sure me unless you like Tom Cruise posters and sketchbooks of bad anime/manga related art. Please do not sue me even if you do like these things, because that would make you a sad little man or womyn and earn you the unremitting wrath of fanfiction writers everywhere.

PAIRINGS: Vegeta x Trunks

WARNINGS: angst, lime, incest

SET: at the end of the Cell Games Saga, the night before Mirai no Trunks goes back to the future.

NOTES: Anou, I guess this is what happens when you watch about 50 hours of non-stop DBZ and dust of your old CDs. Lyrics are in Bold type. Because this song has lots of echoing lines and fades out, I've omitted the extra words and finished after the second chorus. Reviews are appreciated. Constructive criticism will be thought about. Flames will be laughed at. Have a nice day. ^_^

If Only In Heaven's Eyes

I watch him sleep. The moonlight blankets his bare skin as he twitches restlessly, unconsciously clutching at sweat-soaked sheets as he dreams. He is dreaming about Cell. I know, because he has uttered the name several times, each accompanied by a violent jerk.

He cries out again, this time calling for Kakarot. Kami knows why the boy has so much faith in the bastard. A fool of a Saiya-jin who killed himself before I had the chance to prove my superiority, helping Cell to become stronger, enabling him to kill my son. I will make him pay for that. Somehow . . .

" Tousan! " Trunks jerks his head about and chokes on phantom blood. I am surprised. It is the first time he called for me. Tears flow from his eyes as he begins to sob pitifully, curling in on himself on his side, one hand over his face.

I watch him cry. It hurts my chest. Even unconscious, he doesn't want to let me see his weakness. He wants me to accept him, to be proud of him.

There is a saying on this planet: like father, like son. Bullshit, I say. I am not my father. My father gave me to Frieza as if I were a mere trinket. I will not desert Trunks.

And yet, perhaps I have. I abandoned him in the future: I allowed Cell to kill him in this time. Perhaps I am my father, maybe even worse. Trunks has given me everything he has to give: his strength, his will, his love . . . love? Perhaps that is too strong a word. Respect. He suppressed his fear to be with me in the Time Chamber, endured my abuse whenever I thrust it in his face and respected my desire to be left alone. His disobedience is due to his fear and ignorance.

A funny feeling settles itself in the pit of my stomach. I don't want to see him suffer. It hurts me to know that my son is reliving my childhood by not having a father. Even in my proud arrogance, I see that. I want to reach out for him and tell him that I am here to protect and comfort him. I want to tell him . . . that I am proud of him.

I snort softly at myself. I'm getting weak. It's a good thing he's going back to his future in the morning. I am the Prince of all Saiya-jin. I will not be weakened. I am the strongest.

Yet, as I watch him whimper quietly in the moonbeams, his face captivates me. His . . . his innocence? No, he has seen too much to be innocent. His pure honesty, his desire to do the right thing without thought for himself is something I cannot understand, and it fascinates me. He is so unselfish. Like Kakarot, I suppose. Not like me. He has a good heart and soul, untouched by the blackness that taints mine.

I don't want him to be tainted like me.

I never thought you were

A fair-weather friend

You never let me down

You were true till the end

And in the darkest hour

When all was lost

Somehow you left the light on

You faced the wrong and showed the world a thing or two

Stood up for me and for you

The nightmare is vivid. He tosses wildly on the bed, sweating viciously and yelping in distress, swearing here and there. Fear creeps into his voice, raising its pitch and emphasising the panicked expressions on his face. I want so badly to comfort him.

But I don't know how.

I stand at the bed's side, watching him writhe and wishing I knew what to do. Suddenly, he convulses violently and bolts upright, eyes wide and terrified, panting hard. I step back quickly. His hands fly to his midsection and he trembles as he touches the muscles there, unable to believe that he is alive. I watch him squeeze his eyes shut and clutch at his newly-cropped hair, trying desperately to calm down.

I long to hold him and tell him its alright, but I can't. I silently curse Frieza in the name of as many deities I can recall, including this planet's, for denying the knowledge of how to deal with this. The guilt tears at me like no physical pain ever could. It hurts much, much more, and I don't know what to do. It scares me, this helplessness. It makes me feel weak. I hate feeling weak.

His breathing steadies, and he pinches the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, shaking his head as if shaking off the last of the nightmare's grip. Abruptly he realises he is not alone, and he whips his head around to stare straight at me. He seems to wilt. " Oh, fuck . . . " he whispers, rubbing his face with sweaty palms.

I feel like I'm slowly drowing in vertigo. I curse Frieza vehemently in the name of everything foul in the known universe, and everything beyond. Trunks sighs wearily and drops his hands to his lap, refusing to look at me. " Well, " he says in a tired, bitter voice. " At least from tomorrow you won't have to look at me everyday and think ' Kami, what a weak bastard I have for a son. ' "

He turns away from me and lies on his side facing the wall, thinking I don't see the surreptitious wipe of his nose or the way he clutches the sheets in a fist. I curse Frieza some more and force myself to take a step toward him.

" Trunks . . . "

He starts, and I realise painfully that it's probably the only time I've addressed him by his name. I force my hand to his shoulder, and he rolls onto his back and stares up at me with wet eyes. I keep my hand steady, even though everything inside of me is screaming to get the hell out of that bedroom.

But I don't want him to think I don't care.

And you should know

Some say it wasn't worth

The things we went through

I say it ain't worth losing you

I hope you know how much

You've changed all our lives

Someday you'll see

If only through Heaven's eyes

" Trunks . . . " I can't think of anything else to say. Why can't I just tell him how I feel? Because I don't have the courage. Damn my pride.

" D- daijoubu, Trunks. " I say hoarsly, and he blinks incredulously. I don't blame him. How can he believe that I am here, my hand on his shoulder, telling him it's alright, when all I have done is ignore or abuse him? It gnaws at my heart in all sorts of ways that terrify me.

" T-Tousan . . . " He is trembling beneath my touch. Alarmed, I jerk my hand away, and instantly regret it. Trunks' face twists and he begins to weep softly. " All I ever wanted . . . was to be . . . your son, " he chokes out between the tears, " And all I did was let you down. "

The misery in his sobbing words touches me in a way that makes me want to cry, if I could remember how. He is my son, and he is a worthy heir to the throne of Vegeta-sei. But to voice my thougths is impossible. I have been too cold for too long to change now.

He turns his head away, too ashamed to face me any longer. Something ancient and primal, something I never imagined that I possessed, rises up from the depths of my brain, and I lean down to rub his cheek gently with my own, planting my hands on either side of his body to balance myself. He cringes and tenses, afraid of what he expects is coming. When I continue to nuzzle his face and ear, he relaxes ever so slightly and his sobs trail into occassionally hiccuping breaths.

I begin to purr - a low, crooning growl from deep in my chest. He relaxes further and I carefully lick the tears and sweat from his face, tasting the salt and the unique flavour of his pale skin, when my tongue brushes over his lips. I feel him freeze and his breathing stops. I push myself higher on my hands to look down at him.

His endless blue eyes are wide, and his lips are slightly parted as he struggles to comprehend what is happening. I love him so much, but I simply cannot tell him. If I cannot tell him how I feel, I must express myself some other way.

Ever so slowly, I bring our mouths closer together, giving him plenty of time to fight and escape if he chooses, until my lips brush against the soft full ones of my teenage son. He is breathing again, slightly harder and faster than normal, but he does not resist. I close my eyes press my lips to his. He shivers, but still does not fight.

At first I am content, but then my natural dominance asserts itself and I lick at his perfect white teeth. Obediently he opens his mouth and my tongue darts inside, tasting him as he moans quietly. After long moments, our kiss breaks. Trunks pants unsteadily, unsure of exactly what is happening, afraid but undeniably excited. My mind is spinning as desire trills through every nerve and fibre in my body. I manouver myself so that I straddle him, my knees at his thighs, and kiss him again.

This time he responds readily, his tongue sliding against mine as he encourages me on with another low moan. I lower my body atop his and feel his sex through the double layer of light gi pants. He shivers again, his hands stealing upward. Fingers gingerly entwine themselves in my raven spikes.

I can tell that he is a completely inexperienced at this game. Ah, well. Who better to teach him than his father?

The cynical, self-loathing part of me smirks, finding it terribly ironic that I am mating with my virgin son, but I don't care anymore.

Because I love him.

I still remember the things that you said

I keep your words alive

I could never forget

Coz in the final hour, you made me proud

So proud that I could know you

You told the world its time that they believed in you

Stood for right and truth

I watch him sleep. This time, there are no dreams. He lies peacefully wrapped in my arms, his forehead resting against my shoulder. I stroke his soft lavender hair and he stirs, one eye fluttering open. " Tousan . . . " he whispers sleepily, nestling himself deeper within my embrace.

I run my fingers over his beautiful face, tracing his eyes, his jaw, his cheekbones, his nose. He snuffles lightly and I kiss him. He moans into my mouth, only half-awake. He blinks in the darkness.

" What time is it? "

" Time for training, " I tell him and he groans. I chuckle softly and disentagle myself from him, moving towards the pile of discarded clothes on the floor and picking up my pants. Trunks mews forlornly as he searches for his lost heat source, and I pull on my pants and shirt and head for the door.

Once outside, I find that I am in no mood for training, and after a few half-hearted efforts to coax my body into a exercise, I give up and turn my attention to the sky. It is a clear night, and the stars flicker mockingly from their dark perch, like tiny silver sparrows. I wonder absently which ones could be seen from Vegeta-sei, had it still been there. I sit and try to decide.

I hear him before I see him. He glides across the grass and seats himself beside me, resting his head on my shoulder.

" Tousan? "

" What? "

" What are you looking at? "

" Stars, " I answer gruffly. He looks at them too, and we sit in companionable silence together, contemplating the sky.

Trunks leans back on one arm and points with the other. " Kaasan says that your planet was somewhere over there, by that ring of red stars. "

I snort, but don't deny it.

" Tell me about it? "

I sigh, look at my lap, then up at the ring of red stars. He has the right to know. He would, after all, have been king someday. " I don't remember much of it. I spent most of my time in training or on one of Frieza's bases. " I frown, and try to recall my home.

" But . . . there were lots of trees, vast areas of jungle . . . wherever there weren't buildings . . . and a long wide river. There were mountains too, some of them ancient volcanoes, and there were hot springs where we could bath when we desired. " I close my eyes against the tide of crimson memories, and suppress a shudder. I don't want to remember.

I can feel Trunks' eyes on me and although it agitates me, I don't move.

" What about . . . the other Saiya-jin? "

" Saiya-jin take care of themselves. I was their prince. They did what I ordered. " I don't want to remember them. I don't want to remember I am the only one left.

His head is on my shoulder again, but this time I growl warningly. He retreats meekly and resumes his stargazing, only now the stars are blinking out because dawn is a fast approaching.

" Do you think Gokuu-san is up there? "

" I don't care where Kakarot is, " I snap, " He's dead, so there's no point in caring. "

But I know that I do care, and I'm sure Trunks knows it too.

I sigh. If it weren't for Kakarot, Trunks would never have died. I hate the thought, but I owe him for the night that Trunks and I have spent together. Damn you, Kakarot. Why do you always do the right thing, whether you intend to or not? If you hadn't pushed us together I would never have known my son as well as I do. I wouldn't know that I love him. Damn.

I punch the ground softly.

Trunks is watching me with his striking blue eyes. I meet his gaze and stare deeply into those eyes, feeling as I could fall forever within them if I allowed myself. He reminds me so much of Kakarot, with his gentle resolution to protect those around him, but there's a hardness about him like there is about me.

But he's not quiet as hard as me. Not yet.

" Trunks . . . " My throat doesn't seem to work. I force the words to come. " Don't ever change. "

I won't let him grow up to be like me.

And you should know

Some say it wasn't worth

The things we went through

I say it ain't worth losing you

I hope you know how much

You've changed all our lives

Someday you'll see

If only through Heaven's eyes

The birds are squawking as the sun rises, and Trunks and I are sitting on the lawn staring into each other's eyes. I have to tell him now, before it is gone, and my heart retreats to the carefully cultivated diamond of blackness that I have born my whole life.

I reach over to tangle my fingers in his hair and pull him close, kissing him and letting him kiss me back. It is long and passionate, filled with love and desire that will endure across time, for we both know that this is the last kiss we will ever share.

We break apart reluctantly, and I wrap my arms tightly around him as he does me, burying his face in my shoulder. " Trunks . . . " I whisper in his ear, " You are my son, and I am proud of you. " He shudders and folds against my chest, and I feel the warm moisture of his tears through my shirt.

" Arigatou, Tousan. "

I hold my weeping son and wonder if there is a flicker of hope for my black soul after all.

I kiss the top of his head. " I love you. "

" I love you too, Dad. "

Maybe I haven't failed just yet.

And so, we can't forget

We've got to keep remembering them all

The ones who took the fall

They did it for us all

And we should learn from it

Stand up if you believe in it

You've got to face the world

Be strong

That woman is screeching at me as I sit in the kitchen with half a box of cereal in my bowl and a loaf of toasted bread beside it. She thinks this is my breakfast, not suspecting that I've already finished another two boxes of cereal or that this is my fourth litre of orange juice, or that this is just the beginning.

I glower silently and ignore her tirade. No way in hell am I going to do something as damned sentimental as putting on a black armband out of respect for Kakarot. Damned if I'll do anything for a low- class bastard like him.

He walks in with a smile on his face, freshly showered and dressed in his old outfit. The woman turns her wrath on him, and he gives in without a fight. Smartest thing he's done the whole time he's been here.

He sits across the table from me and catches my gaze while the woman makes herself useful and gets him some breakfast. He smiles at me, and I glare at him over my quickly diminishing mountain of cereal. He seems taken aback, but then understanding flicks across his face and he nods imperceptibly, then turns his attention to the woman and begins to talk animatedly about going back home, as he calls it. I busy myself with the task of eating breakfast, and don't listen.

We stand on the lawn, seperated by the time machine. They are all wearing black armbands. Pathetic.

Trunks says his goodbyes to Kakarot's brat and friends, then to his grandparents and mother and his infant self. He turns to me. " Dad? "

I scowl at him from my position of leaning against the tree trunk, and hold up two fingers pressed together in a warning gesture. He smiles understandingly and gestures back. I hold his gaze for a moment, then he turns away and leaps into his time machine, lowering the hatch - which is just as well, because that woman is yelling at him again. He waves as the time machine begins to rise, glowing as it powers up for the journey into the future.

" Bye! "

There is a flash, and he is gone.

Some say it wasn't worth

The things we went through

I say it ain't worth losing you

I hope you know how much

You've changed all our lives

Someday you'll see

If only through Heaven's eyes

I stare after him for long minutes, thoughts rolling around my head like waves on a beach. A funny feeling paws at my chest, but I slap it aside forcefully. He is gone. Kakarot is gone. My heart is diamond once more.

I turn at a female shriek behind me. Trunks has worked his way from his grandmother's arms and is entertaining his flighty grandparents and mother by tottering forward on chubby legs. I snort. How ridiculous to make such a fuss over such a simple act as walking.

Suddenly he looks over at me, a shock of blue eyes with a curl of lavender on his forehead, and I remember the young man who whispered into my chest, " I love you too, Dad. "

Damn you, I think fiercely at the blue-eyed brat, You won't be the same as he was, but I'll try my damned hardest for you.

I'll make sure he doesn't end up like me.


~owari~

AFTER WORD: Phew! This fanfic took a long time to show me how it wanted to be written. At one point I took the song out and started writing a normal fanfic, but that wasn't why I started this fic and I nearly gave it up numerous times. The location moved from the CC to the beach to hot springs and back to the CC again, and I drove myself mad just trying to think about how to set the tone before I decided to write from Vegeta's point of view instead of third person. Several hours and an episode of 'The Ice Dream' later ( at 2:39am on a Friday night, to be exact! ) all I had to do was go back and fix up the mistakes caused by my terrible rushed typing. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it when inspiration smiled on me!

Loyal to our Prince, Zed