Chapter 14

All of a sudden, the immediate cause primarily unknown to her, Chi-Chi's eyes pop open from sleep. Although unable to immediately see anything as she strains to make out the source of her rude awakening in the dark, her senses are wide awake. From the chill in the room, to the rushing sound of her heart in her own ears, there's not a thing that she misses, except for what her eyes can't see.

And then, just as suddenly as she was jolted from her slumber, everything else dissolves from her mind as she begins to shake. Her hands jitter when she tries to bring them to wipe over her eyes, mirroring the same intensity as the breaths leaving her in rapid succession; one after the other, as though each breath is competing with another.

She's dying.

She just knows it, and there's nothing that she can do to stop it.

Even so, she pushes herself to climb out of bed, only to realise that even her legs are unstable. At the light placement of her left foot on the floor, her knee folds too much, infecting the other one to lose the balance that it had been about to find, and pushing her in crash to the floor. She lands lopsidedly, with her right shoulder taking the brunt of the fall and her legs flailing for a second before she manages to right herself.

Her heart is beating faster now, the fall having frightened it more than before. Sweat begins to wet her skin, irritably making her need some water.

She needs to get a glass of water.

Not so quietly, she moves around the bed and out of the room without turning on the light. For a moment, she wonders if she should turn on the kitchen light, but remembering that the fridge will light up the room once she opens it, she chooses not to. At the fridge, before she opens it, she places her head on the door, trying to recover whatever remaining life she had before making the walk over here. That's when, hearing the smallest of sounds behind her, she realises that she's not alone and a mother at heart before anything else, her mind immediately goes to the only other occupant in the house.

Did she wake him?

'Goten?' she whispers, deadly afraid to have him respond to her.

She cannot let him see her like this. Not her baby. She's dying, she knows it, but she cannot die in front of her baby. For the sake of her son, she has to pull herself together and die in the darkness of her own bedroom; away from him.

'It's all right, Goten,' she says as soothingly as she can manage through her fear. 'It's only me. Go back to bed.'

No answer comes, and for a moment, she's lost as what to do. Physically, she's no better than how she started in her bedroom, and so she can't decide how to go on from here. Mentally, she's no better than she is physically, but at least she knows what's appropriate and what's not. Her mind knows that whatever happens, she will protect her son from seeing her like this.

'Go back to bed,' she says again and still no answer comes.

Her hope had been to repeat herself to him. That would've emphasised the urgency to him. After all, children are who they are and always, they need to be told more than once to do something – even if they're able to turn into Super Saiyans and fuse into incredibly stronger beings.

'Goten,' she tries again.

Something does come this time around; a flare in aura. It's slight, barely detectable but enough to signal its presence to her.

That's not Goten, she realises and the thought is nearly all that it takes to sober her up. Not quite, though, because in the back of her mind, she's beginning to think that all this is a very lucid dream born of weeks of longing and wanting. She will have to verify any of this before she believes any of it. As weak as she is, she prepares to open the fridge door for some light into the room. She's ready, she decides with one hand over her heart, reveal itself what might.

Carefully, she allows the door to travel back just as carefully turning on the spot to have a lighted view of the room. Through the light cast by the fridge, in front of her, she makes out the distinct pattern of her husband's hair and her breath fails to come out as it should have.

No, she's wrong.

She has to be.

Freshly from sleep, considering how suddenly she awoke, all of this could be a cruel deception of her longing heart. She cannot allow herself to be lost. It will break her to discover that this is all unreal. Motivating herself that way, she tries to compose herself before she loses herself, but his shadow shows him to be growing closer to her. She closes her eyes then, hoping that when she opens them again, it will be morning and everything will have returned to the new normal that she has been living since he was taken away.

The sound of a click followed by a shutting door gets her to open her eyes, to find that there's light filling the room now. If it's really him, then she can feel him behind her. But once again determined to hold onto her mind, she closes her eyes, holding her breath in waiting.

Behind her, a hand takes hold of her arm, the one with its hand over her heart and twists it into an bent position. It's brief, but the fear that comes upon her is paralyzing to the point where she doesn't feel the pain that she should be feeling. In fact, all of the sensations from before have now left her.

That's it then, it's a dream.

She's either imagining things or she's hallucinating – not much difference between the two. This must be the consequence of skipping meals in the past weeks. But then he then brushes that same arm of hers, too softly, he does it, that she chokes back a sob.

That was a caress.

This is unfair.

'Hallo,' is said right into her left ear, making her body freeze in place.

Her heart almost jumps right out of her chest from surprise. It's hammering so hard against her ribs that she wonders how many seconds she has before succumbing to a heart attack. A small fragile hand slowly comes over her heart to try and calm it down, so that she doesn't lose her life just yet. It doesn't work, but she chooses to keep her hand over her heart anyway, blindly believing that her hand over her heart will work in calming her heart somehow.

'Have you been waiting for me?'

It's like these recent whisper of words are an accelerator to the speed of her heart, because it drums even harder than it had been before. It may be from the fact that she can't see a face to match the voice to, that her heartbeat gains speed, only, she's sure that the voice belongs to him. Every syllable that was said, says that much, even if he's nowhere to be seen, only felt.

Is she hearing voices now, she wonders, is she that desperate to see him that she's hearing voices now?

What else would explain that she's hearing his voice talking to her, but she can't see his face or his body, no matter which way she turns to look for him? Halfway frustrated, she takes an uncharacteristically impulsive decision and tries to free her bent arm. It's her hasty and clumsy way of calling him out to face her. She dares him to be real and appear where she can see him. Although, if he's only in her head, it won't make a difference; that's the sad reality.

He doesn't budge to let go of her arm and she forcefully squeezes her eyes shut, holding her breath just as tightly as she brings her free hand to wrap around his neck and bring his head down to her.

Are you here?

She asks in her mind as a prayer, because her mouth is too busy keeping her breath held in. In the next second, as though hearing her silent question, she's let go of and a presence appears in front of her. The figure doesn't move, it doesn't say anything, but she still feels it there with her. Daring herself to, she opens her eyes in tune with it.

A smirk.

That's the first thing that her eyes catch her before they travel up to his eyes.

Empty.

His eyes are shamelessly empty, that it tears her heart to see such profound emptiness, which not even the small dazzle of his smirk can fill a fraction of.

What happened to the man that was determined to save her three weeks ago? What happened to her husband? What should she even call him at this point, when he's clearly not the same person that he was before he left?

'What happened to you?' she asks in a scared whisper, her eyes desperately trying to find some form of light within his.

Her concern isn't what he did in the time that he was away from her, no. She's worried about what he has become. The eyes that she's looking into, are not the eyes of someone who would playfully meet her love on the days that she needs it the most.

'Hhmph,' he lets out loudly.

Feeling that she doesn't recognise this person, she takes a step back. She shouldn't do this to him, but she can't recognise him from this close up. They must've done something to him during the three weeks that he was away, because this isn't who he is.

'What did they do to you?' she whispers again, stubborn concrete building itself all around her throat.

'You should be asking,' he tells her dryly, intently staring down at her, 'what I'm going to do from now on.'

It's a threat.

She knows that it's a threat, and she should be quivering in fear. She should even be recoiling back from him, to have a head start at running, but all she can concentrate on, is that he's planning to stay. Through that one threat, she at least learned that he won't be leaving again. Despite the horror that she's told will follow his stay, she can't help it feel relieved that he's going to be staying after all.

'You're staying,' she breathes out in relief, ignoring his threat and steps to him.

Her arms wind around his middle and she places her head on his chest. Not even the strong smell of chlorine on his clothes can distract her from the assured feeling in her chest, that comes from knowing that he's going to stay. He, on the other hand, doesn't share in her sentiment, because he slowly removes her arms from around him, twists them to be behind her back instead, and then holds them together there by her wrists. Struggling against his hold would be of no use, she knows that.

'That's not a good thing,' he dangerously tells her. 'Not for you. Not for anyone.'

As confused by his action as she is, she lets it pass. Who knows what he went through with those gods, that has him acting like this? She, better than anyone knows what it's like to forget to be normal after a long period of going through something unimaginable – she will give him the needed grace.

'Goku, what's wrong with you?'

Suddenly, he perks up, becoming very rigid against her front. Seeing that reaction from him, she instantly regrets the words that left her mouth, because before she knows what is happening, she's pinned against something and his hands are around her throat.

This is a joke.

If anyone would've told her that waking up as abruptly as she did, dressed in only a night dress, would end up with her pinned against her own house door by her own husband, she would've laughed in their face. For one thing, she would've said that her husband isn't home yet, and for another, she would've insisted that her husband would never attack her. Not without a reason, at least.

'What are you doing, Goku?'

He only studies her face for a long minute to then surprisingly release her, with a deep frown showing on his face.

'Why aren't you afraid?' he wonders, a bit confused.

'Of who, you?' she asks, stepping into him. 'You're my husband.'

'I am not your husband,' he denies in a cruel tone.

In a matter of a single second, she rides through several paths of feelings. Belief - she believes him; he's not her husband. Shock - she's shocked; he's not her husband. Fear - she fears him, he's not her husband. And then, finally, hurt. She's hurt that he's not her husband.

If this one here isn't her husband, then where is he that he didn't come here then?

It's the way that he said it, that makes her believe him. His eyes and his physical approach to her, it's all confirming of the truth. No wonder his unannounced presence roused her from sleep.

'Right,' she breathes out, nodding as she's unable to think of anything else to do. 'Why did you come here?'

Obviously something happened to him –and her husband- when they were with the gods. They managed to come apart, but rather than Goku coming home, he chose, as he always does, to stay there. If only, wherever he is, he could feel how stepped on she feels. It's as if Goku just walked all over her without a care in the world about it. What could be so important that he stayed there? She's not this one's wife, or his friend, so why did he come here? It couldn't be that he had nowhere else to go.

'Because I knew that he wouldn't,' he coldly responds, sounding to relish in the fact.

That stabs oh so deeply.

It hurts so much, that she slaps him with no reserve.

He reacts rather quickly after the slap. He grabs her by the arms and shoves her hard against the wall. She doesn't really feel pain, but she does understand in some way that she wasn't supposed to feel pain. In the next moment, he moves her across the room, shoving her against every part of the wall that is free to receive her. Six times in total she feels her back meeting the wall before she starts getting dizzy.

'Stop it!' she shrieks.

Her scream either surprises him or it makes him irritated enough to try and do something about it, that he stops moving with her. Good. She was wrong to scream like that when it could have woken Goten. For his part, he looks at her, and while she wants to look at him and question what's wrong with him, she remembers that he's not her husband and she shouldn't expect him to be delicate with her.

'Stop it,' she repeats tiredly, knowing that he will not listen to her if he doesn't want to.

Surprisingly, he moves away from her, his chest heaving for her to see as his eyes roam all over her. She decides then, that no matter what hardship he went through, she will simply not stand for this. She went through her own hell waiting for him and trying whatever she could to get him back, but she's not behaving in the way that he is. It may be selfish to want it, but she deserves better than this treatment. It's with the help of that thought that she pulls in a long breath, smoothes over the front of her dress and the silently turns her back on him, starting to leave for Goten's room.

For safety, she'll be sleeping in Goten's room for the rest of the night.

Someone has to protect her son.

No sound comes from him as she makes her way to her son's room, and though scary to know that he's right here in the house, unafraid to harm her at any second, there's nothing more that she can do. All that is left is to protect her son. She can't be sure of what could happen if she decides to involve Gohan or her father in this – it could end badly for all of them, and then it would be all her fault, so this is all that she has.

Making it into Goten's room, she closes the door behind her and with her entire body shaking and laboured breaths coming from her nose, she leans against the door.

Oh. This is real.

She is to feel the fear and still stay.

It's what she has to do.

Slowly, she pushes herself away from door and goes over to climb into bed with her son. She's carefully to place a soft kiss on forehead as protectively tucks him into her.

Her precious baby.

She kisses the side of his head again, this time silently assuring him that she'll let nothing harm him, neither will she disturb his precious sleep.

No later than a few minutes after she's settled into bed, does the door open to reveal the silhouette of a person standing in the door. Illuminated by the light in the living room, she recognises his figure and while she wants to scream for him to leave them alone, she settles for clutching tighter against her. He begins to step into the room, leaving the door open and stops short before he can reach the bed, simply staying there without moving.

Whatever he believes himself to be doing, she swears, if he tries to touch her son, her own hands will kill him.