Title: Erratum in the Spirit 9/? – Blood touched lips
Warning: Supernatural/Dark themes, violence, alcohol/drug reference
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Dragon Ball Z, nor do I own any of the materials from, which the quotes are borrowed. If you do want to sue, I have some half chewed bubble gum but that's about it. You can have it if you want.
" --scene-- " = Change in place, time or perspective
"Speech" 'Thoughts'
-----------Memories-----------
A/N: I'm so sorry for the long period of silence. My brain was flooded with stories, with assignments. It was the terror of starting uni. Lol! Oh, I had to change the memory and scene change symbols since fanfiction.net didn't like my old ones and decided to delete them. Hope it's ok.
Review Responses -
Jdchs: Thankyou so much for the comments about Vegeta. I have been writing little bits and pieces on the side (which aren't going to be put up) to try and get Vegeta's character right. He's a tough one to crack! Here's more!
Erica: Guess what?! I updated! Lol. Hugs for reviewing
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"How dare you say that my behaviour is unacceptable,
So condescending unnecessarily critical,
I have the tendency of getting very physical,
So watch your step cause if I do you'll need a miracle" Maroon 5 – 'Harder to Breathe'
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Standing in silence, Vegeta let his eyes wander to the blinking stars, and somehow he wondered why the sky was so clear. Certainly after such events the weather should reflect the condition, wasn't that the way of this world? Wasn't that the way of stories, of fiction? For surely this was just a story, simply a dream.
A chilling breeze, his skin prickling and writhing under its touch suddenly bombarded him. His arms inched their way to his chest, moving into a tight fold, a hidden comfort, he would never reveal his weakness. Never…
----------- When Vegeta returned to the lounge, his eyes sat resolved, hardened. It seemed his decision was made, a challenge had been made. Yet not the usual enemy. His son. He had claimed a new enemy had arrived, that he was at this creature's every whim. Any being, which enslaves a mind is a creature!
Visions flashed through his mind causing his eyes to pierce close. Memories he would rather be rid of, despite the fact they made him harder.
Those screams.
Lack of control.
Fire.
Fire in his mind, searing him with his every contest.
Can't stop it!
Screams.
"Vegeta!"
Suddenly he realised where he was, Bulma's voice, which was once softly controlling now held no sign of the gentle command he fell for. He knew that sound atop her voice, seething anger upon which she had no control. A mother's fear. Looking up, his customary mask of indifference fell into place, muscles forcefully relaxing as he turned his gaze to the ocean haired woman.
"How can you just stand there like that? Our son is obviously sick, yet still you allow him to wander aimlessly into the night!" Her voice shaking in it's ending words.
Bulma had made her way subconsciously across the room, hands white-knuckled upon her hips. He had never seen her so impulsive and out of control. She had always been one to take control of a situation, always been the first to reach a type of control needed to think things through, perhaps not on the battle field yet certainly over these past years. They had endured many dangers, and Kakarott's wife had always been the one to lose her emotions, tears always welling in her eyes, hair leaping with exertion. And except that dulled fear, emotions effortlessly withdrawn, Bulma had never seemed to lose control.
Her anger made its way to pierce his mask,
"I will not chase after the boy as if a shepherd. If he doesn't wish to return, so be it"
Vegeta made to turn, after taking up the discarded towel still damp from his workout, when a delicate hand latched onto his shoulder and turned him slowly. The world seemed to fade, the moment paused simply for the two.
"Vegeta," Bulma's voice softened, almost pleading "He's your son and he's hurting…"
He couldn't help but let out a long breath, loosening his form as he looked in her eyes,
"Please, just forget your pride…"
Tense once more, swiftly, frighteningly sudden his face taken aback and the world was as it was. He could sense Goten hesitate in the doorway behind him, Bra confused nearby.
"Forget my pride?" His voice dangerously soft, almost a whisper.
"You saw as I saw, Trunks was not himself. Perhaps it is merely…"
Jerking from her touch he glared down upon her, her brow furrowing. He renewed his grip on the towel,
"A saiyan is firstly and foremost one of pride. And as my son, Trunks…" his deep and serious tone was interrupted by Bulma's raised voice,
"Damn your pride! What good has it done but seen you killed!"
Memories of that fateful day in which the battle against Buu seemed utterly hopeless, flashed through his mind. He had truly believed that the explosion would rid the world of that monster, how was he to know it would simply see his soul torn.
"Do you think killing myself was an easy decision? I did it to see you safe"
"Oh, really? And all the good that did. Your crazy blast didn't affect the thing, did you ever stop to think? We were left alone, could've been killed. But no you didn't think about that, just your pride speaking, telling you that you would be honored by saving the world!" Caught up in the anger surging inside her Bulma was too late to stop the following words "I believe that it is safe to say that that was the most heartless decision you have ever made"
As the sentence left her mouth a deep silence lingered through the air as the implications of what she had said were searched by all present. All close to the prince knew that that one act of self-destruction had been the hardest thing the Saiyan prince had every performed. He knew that he would simply disappear, not being aloud a body, a single lost spirit. But he had continued anyway believing his family would be safe. He had revealed his hidden emotions, embraced his son. That moment, which he believed was his single selfless act was the most precious and everyone knew this.
To have this thought truth wrenched from his grip was like having the floor pulled from beneath him. For long moments he stood staring blankly into his wife's eyes, not seeing her but moving over the words. When Bulma made to move forward, tried to add comfort, Vegeta shook his head, fire burning through his eyes. His right arm twitched moving slightly to strike the women before him, and with the realisation of what he intended to do he forced himself to close his eyes, blocking her from his vision. Held that fury back and spoke in a bland tone,
"If that's what you believe…"
But he couldn't finish, his voice unwilling to remain steady. He spun and walked from the room, Goten moving quickly from his path, concern covering the boy's face.-----------
Having no where in particular to go, the prince let his feet take him, weave him through the capsule corp. gardens as he watched the sky. His breath heaved unsteadily with the night's memories, of what he had tried to do, what he was about to do.
Revealing his hand he clenched his fist, releasing several times. Each time he pulled in his fingers, he urged them tighter, each time threatening to break through into the skin.
--scene--
Trunks' eyebrows raised in curiosity as a smirk slid across Raoul's face, he leant back against the stone wall. Blue and red lights danced over his features, his eyes sparkled, reflected the delight quickly spreading across his face. The older man let his eyes wander over to the bar just two buildings down the street, he watched as crowds muttered and camera lights flashed.
"What's so amusing?" Trunks asked as he lowered his gaze and memories flashed through his head,
-----------"This is what we get for being invisible" Raoul seemed to speak these words simply to himself as if regretting a past decision, a sorrow hidden beneath the dangerous smile, small yet never gentle,
"No respect"
A dark coat suddenly road the wind as Raoul spun and seemed to disappear, the front door slamming back, glass spraying the air. Trunks looked around quickly, his eyes stopped on the burnt form at his feet causing him to turn away in disgust. His eyes moved over the bar and on instinct he leant over the bench only to find an overweight body sprawled limp on the floor, a large gaping wound bleeding from his chest.
Surprisingly, Trunks didn't react to the sight. He took in the red liquid, which had sprayed the surrounding bottles, until he spotted what he was looking for. He reached over the bench and brought out a tall bottle of tequila, blood stained on its neck. Why did it seem to bring relief? Did it ever bring relief? The label was vague in his mind, black with a golden beast making itself clear, but he paid it no heed. It was blurred in his vision, he could feel his body crying, pleading. Hungry.
He turned around to find shaken faces, locked onto his form, some shaking, tears finding themselves born in several eyes. Making no move to acknowledge them he opened the bottle and leant back against the bar. He glanced once more down at the bottle before tipping it backwards.
His tongue washed over the glass, taking in the warm blood, smearing the drops. As the alcohol mixed with the life bringing liquid, it brought a slight tinge of ecstasy and the young vampire closed his eyes.
"What are you doing?" Raoul's annoyed voice was loud in his ear but Trunks left his eyes closed as he answered,
"Drinking. Where'd you go?"
"Cleaning up our mess" the bottle was ripped from Trunks' lips, and he glared as the bottle was broken against a nearby wall, "We're invisible remember"
Trunks looked up to the other, his eyes caught the blood staining his teeth, dripping down over his lip and onto his chin.-----------
"Don't tell me you didn't find that amusing", Raoul's accent was suddenly aware to Trunks' ears. A delicious French accent usually hidden under West Cities own was brought forth by the enjoyment in the man's voice. How could he have missed it? Everything was becoming clearer, his head clearing a little more every hour, his senses strengthening with every moment. His headaches had faded, his tired eyes unknown and for the first time he could take in the finer details of the man he had named partner under duress.
"You don't find them amusing?" the older waved a hand towards the police, the many stretchers, body bags. The shouts and desperation,
'Come on move it! Out of the way!'
The once saiyan swung his head away involuntarily, something tearing at his almost faded heart,
"You…we didn't have to kill them"
"Don't start that again kid, those dismal thoughts, that humanity" turning, Raoul started away from the busy scene, "You are what you are"
Shaking his head, Trunks wondered where that thought came from. The last of his humanity had died with Tenshi, when he had drained his classmate's essence. He turned his head back to the crowd, and it was now that a white van pulled up, the title of a news station plastered on its side.
"Come on kid" Raoul called back as he paced away.
But Trunks couldn't move away, his attention drawn to the media. A woman, short blonde hair, dressy maroon suit, so familiar…
"Officer! Officer, just a moment please!"
It was strangely desperate, he could taste her need. He shivered at the feeling. Her voice gentle and pleading,
"Sir, a statement?" the police she had directed the question to ignored her totally, typical, "What has happened, Sir?!"
Erasa. Her name leapt into his mind just like that old man's blood had taken to his lips.
'That could be him there'
His eyes wandered to the newest body being pushed out on a stretcher, face covered. It was such a relief to have new life flowing throw his system, its flavour still fresh on his lips. He could remember the man's eyes as he shoved him back into his chair before hauling the wrinkled flesh into the air. Those eyes pleaded with him, silently cried out, as the rusty voice begged. The ancient man's neck was dry, the skin peeling, sticking to his lips as Trunks drank.
"Trunks?!"
For a moment he thought it was Raoul, annoyed and calling him. Why did he trust the man, after such a short time? But that tone was surprised, higher…female.
"Trunks Brief" the reporter bounced over as he was brought from his thoughts, the cameraman close behind, "How long has it been?"
'Months. And that's not long enough'
He remembered a New Year's barbecue, Gohan had brought along some long time friends. The blond had insisted on 'getting the goss'. She had stuck to him, question pouring from her mouth, as if she were his new best friend. Gohan had said to ignore her, she had then hit him playfully. Frowning he gazed down at the reporter.
"What happened?" her face was horrified, as she stared at his form, his chest, his face.
Looking down on himself he groaned when he saw the torn shirt, dried blood smeared across it, his dark pants in no better state.
"Were you in that bar? You should go to the hospital"
Slumping, all thoughts of the bar drifted from his mind,
"I should get some new clothes. Wouldn't want Bahri to see me like this", at that he turned and made his way after Raoul.
"Trunks, wait!" Erasa took hold of the teen's arm, she gasped at its icy touch.
"Let go", his voice was frighteningly calm, cold. Trunks tore his arm from her grip, his eyes, she noticed were pale, as they glared onto her. She couldn't help but let him go. Silently watching as he disappeared down a nearby alleyway. Unaware that the camera man was recording every second.
--scene--
Breathing deep, Bulma let her face be held in her hands. She could feel the tears running down her arms, warming her chilled skin. A small pair of arms latched onto her, embracing her as best they could.
"Mother?"
But the girl's voice went unheard, Bulma let her silent tears fall. What had happened to them? Trunks. What was happening to her son? The picture of a suffering boy cutting himself, a strange delight in his features. That anger when he pushed past her, yelled at her. She had to do something, Vegeta wouldn't.
"Mum?"
Turning her head she saw the worried face of her youngest, her hair mirroring her own.
"Its ok Bra",
"What's wrong with Trunks?"
Bulma draped her arms around the girl and looked into her eyes,
"He's just ill, he'll be fine"
A smile found Bra's lips but despite her young age the grin did not find her eyes. She tightened her grip and all but fell into her mother's arms.
"I'm afraid" the girl's voice was muffled in her mother's jumper, "There's something wrong with his eyes"
Vegeta stopped outside the door to the lounge, overhearing his family's conversation. He kept a stone face, as quiet as possible. His exterior hard, his mind strong, a contrast to his heart, which faltered at the sound of the girl's sobs.
"It'll be alright" he listened as Bulma's words of comfort were drowned out by the sudden jingle which indicated a news update. As soon as he heard the word 'massacre' he was in the room, taking in the information, storing it away, wide-eyed...
A/N: Reviews are most welcome!