Bloop. Sympathy by Goo Goo Dolls. Bleep. Edited A LOT cuz it's freaking long and not everything applies. Blip.
WARNING FOR CONTENT ***This chapter contains mentions of rape, although no details are given. The parts that one might find objectionable are italicized, and short. So please no whining, I never promised y'all a happy flowers and pink ponies fic. ***~
Stranger then your sympathy
I'm killing myself from the inside out
And all my fears have pushed you out
I wish for things that I don't needAll I wanted
And what I chase won't set me free
A hot shower was called for to calm Vegeta's nerves, and hopefully ease his mind. It ended up doing neither, as his mind was pulled to a memory, one more fondly remembered. One of Amai, her lavender skin glistening with water as she bathed, her soft hands touching him lovingly under the hot spray, the heat of the water paling in comparison to that which they shared. And yet touch was all they did, and he lavished kisses on her face, neck, shoulders, gaining the sweetest satisfaction from her softly curved lips. Somehow…from their shared intimacy, although short of making love, had still been enough for him to gain a subconscious sense of her, a weakened emotional bond. Was this why she haunted him still? A piece of the puzzle of his memory of the other night came into place, and he recalled thinking only of Amai, even as he bonded with another. Guilt stabbed at him in much the same manner as the cascading water, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
It was wrong.
Everything about the situation with he and Bulma was wrong, oh so wrong. Why had it happened? Why had fate cursed them into being together, when he at least was bound to another. But obviously, the small link he had shared with Amai was not enough to stop him from mating, and how he hated it. He hated it, and he was near overcome with hate for life. His bonding with Bulma must have reawakened old wounds…old wounds he wished never to heal, lest he forget the consequences of sharing emotional intimacy with someone. He had never, never been as open with anyone as he had with Amai. And he regretted every moment of it, knowing full well that it had led to her death. Her death before his eyes.
Oh yeah everything's all wrong yeah
Everything's all wrong
Where the hell did I think I was
Stranger than your sympathy
I'm killing myself from the inside out Now my head's been filled with doubt
He swayed on his feet, reaching blindly for the wall to staedy himself as uncalled for visions of her murder flashed behind his eyes, and he could only wait for the torrent to end…Images of himself lying helpless on the floor, forced to watch her defiling at the hands of Frieza…forced to hear her virgin screams of pain echo through the room, tearing at his eardrums. She never took her crying gaze from his eyes, and he telepathically poured all the comfort, strength, even love as he could, struggling to help her through the pain amidst his own unbearable weakness. When it was over, she was placed none-too-gently at his side, and adrenaline pumped through his veins, lending him the strength to sit up and pull her into his arms. She sobbed uncontrollably, clutching weakly at his chest and attempting to find words.
He quieted her, trailing kisses on her face and nuzzling her cheek, and her sobs died to sniffles, but he could see the emptiness in her eyes. Those gathered to watched snorted in disgust at the open displays of affection from the stoic Prince.
"That has to be the most disgusting thing I've ever seen the monkey do, don't you agree Zarbon?" Frieza grated.
"Yes…I'm feeling surpemely nauseous…" Zarbon returned, a look of pure annoyance on his face.
Vegeta was
unhearing as he focused on the girl in his arms, bleeding profusely in many
places along with a few broken bones, her numerous injuries casued her to stare
pain-blinded at the ceiling.
"Amai," he murmured, drawing her
gaze to him with a soft caress to her cheek. Her green eyes met his black, and
for a moment the warmth returned to her features, lighting into a smile on her
lips. She brought a shaking hand to his face, and he leaned into the gesture
desperately.
"Be strong, Vege-chan. Don't give up, don't let them beat you, beat us," her breath hitched, and she drew in a gasp, back arching as she again looked to the ceiling. She turned to stare fixedly back at Vegeta, moving her hand so that her thumb covered his lips.
"I lov—" A needle thin spike of ki went through her skull, and the words died on her lips, as the light faded all-too-quickly from her emerald eyes. Frieza chuckled something about mushy endings and last words, but Vegeta was deaf beyond the blood pounding in his ears. He screamed his rage, sorrow, loss to the world. He screamed until his voice was so raw that he was unable to speak for a week there-after. And for another two months he chose to speak to no one.
With a start the memory faded, and Vegeta found himself leaning heavily on the wall of the shower, the once hot spray now luke-warm on his skin.
It's hard to lead the life you choose
All I wanted
When all your luck's run out
Oh yeah it's easy to forget yeah
You choke on the regrets yeah
Who the hell did I think I was
A headache pounded the inside of his skull, and he groaned as he exited the stall, and the bathroom altogether. Dressing quickly, he headed downstairs for a quick bite to eat before pounding his insecurities out with a day of vigorous training. Unfortunately for him, Bulma already occupied the kitchen, although he merely ignored her, much to her disgruntlement. Her questions wore at him, though, and as he seated himself at the table, he deemed her worthy of an answer.
"That dream still bugging you?" She queried, not expecting an answer. Which is why she appeared wholly shocked when he responded.
"No," he lied, and she totally bought it.
"Riiiight. And I married the fairy prince last night." He gingerly massaged his temples, wishing to Kami that she would just leave him be. The blue-haired heiress constituded over half of his problem, half that he didn't want to deal with at the moment.
"I've just got a headache, okay? Now leave me be, wench," he ground out, earning him a venomous glare.
"There I go, acting the concerned hostess again. Forgive my intrusion, highness. Take one, and wait ten minutes. If only a pill could remove the stick up your ass…" Slamming a bottle of migraine relievers onto the table before him, Bulma stalked from the room. He stared evilly at the plastic container, teetering between throwing it through the wall and downing a pill for the hell of it. She was probably poisoning him, but at that point he could have cared less.
Swallowing the tiny blue capsule, he grimaced. The plate of food followed immediately, and ten minutes later, the pain behind his eyes faded, and was gone. Begrudgingly grateful, he phased up to his bathroom, leaving the tiny container of medication on the counter before heading out to the Gravity room via the balcony.
I'm not sure where I belong
Nowhere's home and I'm all wrong
And I wasn't all the things
I tried to make believe I was
And all the talk and all the lies
Were all the empty things disguised as me
Bloody, sweat-soaked and exhausted Vegeta returned to his room in the darkest hour of the night. He stumbled blindly to the bathroom, slumping weakly against the counter. He studied his moonlit features for what felt like an hour. He could only sneer at the image.
~
Bulma's brow furrowed as she left her room and walked down the hallway towards the kitchen. A trail of blood and sweat marked the floor, and she studied the walls, finding a bloody handprint marring the white paint.
"Gods Vegeta, what have you done to yourself now? It's bad enough you do all this to yourself, but you don't have to screw up my house!" She stomped angrily to his room, only to find the door locked. Annoyed, she entered the override, and entered without any pretense of knocking. She flicked the lights on, uncaring that Vegeta would most likely be asleep. Puzzled by the lack of reaction, she ventured further into the room in search of the Prince.
"Vegeta?" She called, though no answer was forthcoming. The bathroom door was halfway closed, and she closed in, timidly knocking on the door. "Vegeta?" Turning on that light too, she attempted to push the door open, which proved to be more difficult than she had assumed. Pleing her head and shoulders into the room, she gasped at the sight behind the door.
A bloody Vegeta lay sprawled on the floor, his breathing heavy but shallow. Kneeling by his side, Bulma lay the back of her hand on his forehead; he was burning up. His pulse was slow and lethargic, and she glanced around worriedly for the nearest intercom. It was positioned above the counter, but another sight pulled her eyes to the smooth counter top.
The bottle of migraine medication was on it's side, completely empty.
~
Ooo, ouch. Things aren't looking too hot, eh? And the song is awesome, I know, but I had to cut it a bit, for length and content. Not BAD content, just stuff that didn't fit, as I explained before the chapter. Please review, y'all! I"ve been waiting eons to write this, and I'm soooo excited about it! Now I just need input!
