A/N: This chapter still takes place before Bra's death. I'm hoping things will become a little less confusing next chapter...
Jeice: That's becomin' a habit of yours. And ah'm still not in this!
Starkiller: Would you like some cheese with your whine? - -
Within Me
I've come to talk with you again
Bra lay in the cool, dim light of morning and stared, her mind a groggy blank in the first few minutes of her wakening. Her ceiling seemed an endless cloudy sky and there was a pungent scent in the air. She turned to bury her head in the soft pillows, only to find small prickly blades of dew-coated grass, which tickled her nose. A cool breeze brushed her damp cheek. Alarmed, she sat upright, turned to look at the imprint she had made in the green pasture.
"Not again!" Bra groaned and rubbed her hands against her face in frustration. "Why here? Why does it have to be here?"
Tentatively she raised her sharp eyes to the long vertical slabs above her, rising, solemn, like the great tombstones of Kings she had glimpsed in history books, its' jagged peaks pointed like teeth. For a moment she had to marvel in terrified awe at the prehistoric work of art, which was Hanging Rock. Beyond the edge of the spectacular volcanic mass she could hear the roar of the waves as they crashed against the cliff side far below.
The cliff-side had given her nightmares as a child. When they had been younger, Goten and Trunks had taken Pan, Marron and herself camping here on the grassy pasture by Hanging Rock. She could still remember the mournful sound of the wind whistling through those treacherous, jagged points late at night. Bra felt struck dumb in its powerful presence; it felt at once old, strange and very much alive, as if the ancient construction was breathing magic.
Bra swallowed. She would never consciously decide to come back to such a place. Yet this was the third time in two weeks where she had awoken under the shadow of Hanging Rock.
'Well I'm not staying here a moment longer,' she thought peevishly and glowered at the molten rocks.
Quickly, she stood to her feet and willed her ki to push her high into the cool morning air. Her stomach dropped as a gust current of air threatened to take her balance. Normally, Bra preferred machines to do all the flying and was quite unused to manipulating her ki to such an effect.
'Anything to get away from this awful place,' she thought, grimly.
The flight back was wet and chilly, but soon Capsule Corps' immense dome loomed ahead of her, its lights and windows dark and shuttered. 'Good,' she thought, gratefully, 'they're not up yet.' So far, she had managed to keep her nightly escapades secret from her parents and brother; which considering how suspicious Vegeta could be was quite a feat and Bra allowed herself a small applause at her cunning.
She glanced across her shoulder in the direction she had flown. Western city's towering skyscrapers and buildings shielded her view of the cliffs, which tumbled down into the sea. Bra touched down on the main path of Capsule Corps, the gleaming white building a welcoming sight.
She entered the house by the back door and traipsed into the kitchen, grimacing at her reflection in the mirror. Her nose was red and running and dark bags were beginning to form beneath her eyes.
"You look a mess," Trunks mumbled from the doorway, half chewing on a piece of toast. Already, a blob of strawberry jam had made a home on his white shirt and his tie was knotted in several places.
Bra raised a slender eyebrow and smirked. "You don't exactly look like Western city's most eligible bachelor yourself."
"Oh yeah?" Trunks strolled casually towards her and dumped the morning paper on the table, "the Daily West begs to differ," he shot her a superior grin and pointed to the front page of the newspaper, which was plastered with pictures of C.C. International's handsome President.
Bra grabbed the paper and gaped. "That's the second time this year!" she exclaimed.
"Ah, ah," Trunks shook his head and wagged his finger in the air. "I think you'll find it's the third. And that's only in the Daily West. You should see what Dragonballz has to say about me!" he grinned stupidly.
Bra pretended to gag, then gave a shrug of her slender shoulders. "Well you know what this means."
Trunks took another large bite of toast and smiled. "That I'm dashingly handsome?"
"That we'll have to subscribe to a another paper," she retorted.
"Aren't you the tetchy Princess this morning," he said.
Bra slumped against the table, one arm resting beneath her chin while she plucked an orange from the fruit-bowl with the other. "I had a restless sleep last night." It wasn't an entire lie.
"Maybe if you didn't stuff yourself with cheese before going to bed you wouldn't have nightmares," Trunks pointed out and pinched a segment of orange from her hand. "And you can't flag the Saiyan appetite card anymore. You don't train with me and dad."
"I don't stuff myself! And besides, quitting training has hardly stunted Goten's appetite, " Bra argued.
"Funny how you always manage to wangle him into conversation," Trunks gave her a sly, knowing look. "In any case he's not a good example," he paused and pulled a face. "For anything."
Bra straightened her shoulders, looking disdainful. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she said, but Trunks was fairly certain that she did. She caught the knowing look in her brother's eye for a second and felt her face flush, looked instead for something to busy herself with.
Quickly, Bra eyed Trunk's knotted tie and snatched it between her slender fingers. "Give me that," she said with an irritated sigh. "So what are you doing up at this time?"
Trunks was thumbing through the newspaper with a casual eye. "Some of us have to work for a living."
Bra frowned. "I'm a full time student. I don't have time to work." She glanced at the kitchen clock, which read 6:00am. "And my lecturers don't normally start until 9:00am, as do most jobs. Which brings me back to my original question. Why are you up so early?" she asked, a shrewd glint in her eye. "Maybe you're not so unattached as the Daily West would lead us to believe?" she jerked his tie teasingly.
Trunks moaned, exasperated. "You'd make a cruel journalist, Bra."
"Then you're very lucky I'm studying history and politics," she grinned.
He grimaced. "And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Trunks folded his paper and laid it on the table. "It's nothing too exciting. Deceptedo wanted me in early this morning so that we could get a mile high pile of reports finished in 'record time'."
"Deceptedo? The PA who wears glasses which magnify his eyes to saucers?" Bra sniggered.
Trunks ran his fingers through his unkempt hair and groaned. "He drives me crazy! I've never known anyone who can't sit still longer than a minute without panicking about one bloody thing or another."
"He's the only Personal Assistant who's lasted longer than a month without handing in their notice or stalking you," Bulma scolded from the doorway. She looked as unkempt and exhausted as the rest of them, still dressed in her pyjamas and bunny slippers. There was an empty coffee mug in her hand. She gazed at it woefully. "The coffee machine's broken."
Bra wanted to smack her own forehead. Her mother had the brains of a rocket scientist, but her skills apparently stop a foot short of the kitchen. "Can't you fix it?"
"I've been up all night fixing things," Bulma grumbled. "And then your father… I need my caffeine fix. Where's the instant?"
"None left." Trunks sweated. "Already checked."
Disgruntled, Bra grabbed some fruit from the bowl and walked towards the blender. "I'll make a smoothie," she said, a sardonic smile gracing her lips. "I don't know what you'd do without me."
Bulma instantly brightened, clapping her hands together. "That's my bunny girl! I'm going for a shower," she announced, and strolled easily out of the kitchen just as Vegeta padded sullenly into it.
Trunks chuckled. "Played you like a fiddle."
"My wardrobe for a conventional family!" Bra proclaimed dramatically and handed him the first glass.
Trunks downed the fruit juice and glanced at his watch. "Right, better get going or Deceptedo will have a heart attack. Or start crying again. I don't know which is worse." He paused and eyed her suspiciously. Vegeta was busy piling pancakes and frying bacon onto a plate. He lowered his voice. "You still look like crap. Go back to bed, bunny."
Bra averted her eyes to the floor. A lump caught in her throat as the grim image of the boy lamplighter, so similar to her own brother, resurfaced from her memory. She took a breath and smiled hesitantly. "I'm fine. Nothing a little shopping therapy with Marron won't cure."
Trunks glanced at Vegeta again. Apparently his father was too engrossed in his breakfast to notice anything else. "If you say so," he said and ruffled Bra's long blue hair affectionately before walking out the door, the jam stain on his white shirt still intact. "Say hi to Marron, I haven't seen her in ages. Bye dad!" Vegeta ignored him.
Bra poured Bulma's fruit juice into a glass and left it on the kitchen table beside Vegeta, who was reading the front page of the Daily West with one eyebrow raised. She studied his back for a moment, a sad, dull pain in her chest. Once there had been a time she could tell her father anything. They had always shared a close bond. But something told Bra this was one thing she'd prefer to keep secret.
'Only for now,' she promised herself stubbornly, 'I will tell him eventually.'
Without a word, she began to walk away, intent on getting some rest before meeting Marron.
But a voice suddenly froze her in her tracks.
"So. Do you want to tell me why your feet are dirty?" Vegeta said.
oOo
Trunks crept silently into his office. Thankfully there had been no sign of his frazzled Personal Assistant thus far. He heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed into his chair, stifling a yawn. 'Maybe he's sick?' Trunks thought hopefully and felt instantly ashamed. It wasn't that he disliked his assistant. But Deceptedo Billaba was more wound up than a rubber band. 'And gayer than a crème puff,' he smirked.
"You're late," a bemused voice whispered in his ear. Trunks let out a high-pitched cry of alarm and leapt from his chair, clutching his pounding chest.
"Caithion!" he gasped, looking wide eyed at the office manager. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."
Caithion did not smile, instead took an easy draw of the long cigarette wedged between his fingers and breathed a steady stream of smoke into the handsome President's face. "I did knock," he replied easily.
Trunks coughed and waved away the acrid cloud of smoke. "I didn't hear you," he eyed the cigarette and grimaced. Caithion reached an intimidating height and though his muscular build was nothing to be impressed by, his slanted purple eyes were full of a casual self-confidence, which Trunks sorely lacked. It annoyed him that he felt so daunted by one of his own employees. Normally he took it out on his PA.
'Well not any more,' Trunks swore stubbornly and faced the towering man. "You can't smoke that in here."
Caithion gave him a long, bemused look before nodding silently. "As the President wishes." He stubbed the cigarette out on the finely polished oak desk and flicked the remains through the window. "Ink boy's been searching for you. There's a message," he said.
Trunks frowned at the mark on his new desk, but quickly decided not to make an issue out of it. "Ink boy?"
"That would be me," Deceptedo said as he hurried into the office carrying a large box of loose papers, which had scattered a trail down the corridor. Deceptedo coughed and hacked dramatically on the cloud of smoke and picked up a can of room deodoriser with an irritated sigh. "You're a wretched thing, Caithion."
The Office manager simply shrugged his skinny shoulders and smiled sinfully, before slinking away down the bustling corridor.
"Who left a message for me?" Trunks inquired, curiously.
Deceptedo grumbled, pushing his sliding glasses up his nose. "Son Pan, I believe." He opened his waistcoat and peered inside. Curious, Trunks looked too. To his surprise, his PA had stuck hundreds of little post-its on the inside of his jacket.
"Ah, here it is!" Deceptedo announced happily, plucking a yellow note pinned above his pocket. "Yes, a message from Son Pan – 'I have a little brother,'," Deceptedo began to read aloud, before Trunks snatched the note away from him.
'Trunks, mum and dad have had a boy! It looks like I'm not the baby of the family anymore.'
"She'll be happy at that," Trunks murmured to himself, smiling.
'I'm moving back to the city tomorrow, so expect a visit in the afternoon,' the note read, 'P.S. His name's Nail. Son Nail.'
oOo
Bra hated studying in libraries; especially Western City's crumbling old building. It felt old too, like Hanging Rock, and its arched ceilings were high and illustrated with ancient frescos depicting semi-naked, busty women. Students filed around her desk, old women thumbed noisily through romantic paperback novellas and a strong smell of stale coffee lingered in the air.
Grumbling to herself, Bra grabbed her book and marched purposefully outside into the open street. She glanced at her watch, which read 12.00pm. Going home was an absolute no. Bra was not looking forwards to seeing her father again after the awkward conversation they had shared earlier that morning.
'The park will still be relatively empty,' she thought. 'Perhaps it's not too much to hope for some peace and quiet.' Bra sighed, feeling a twinge of guilt at her terrible impatience. It did bother her when people poked fun at her for her perfectionism. She supposed she should be used to it. After all, people often sneered and whispered behind her back, calling her a pompous snob or a spoilt princess, even now at University. Being the daughter of a millionaire, Bra was often judged harshly from the get go. Few people really liked her. There had been a period of time at school where she had allowed herself to be pulled in to a popular crowd of wealthy, good-looking, and completely shallow, students. It almost cost her Pan and Marron's friendship. The memory certainly wasn't one she relished.
Ignoring the leers she received from a group of passing boys, Bra examined the cover of the book she had checked out from the library: a short history of Gods and Goddesses by Dr Kilos. It was a slim book with a plastic jacket, meant only for casual reading for the young adult. But Bra was sure it would give her the information she sought. She licked her finger and thumbed through the sticky pages, coming to a stop at chapter nine: a short biography of Loki, the Sly-One.
Her heart thumped. 'I knew I'd heard that name before.'
Anxiously, she read on.
'Loki, more commonly known as the shape-shifting Trickster God, was the shrewd master of guile and deception. While not necessarily evil, it was often hard to tell whether he was on the side on the Gods or not. For countless millennia he served the High Court by aiding the Gods, or their chosen heroes, on great adventures - rescuing them from grave danger with his cunning and extraordinary ability to change form and sex. However, Loki's rare vanity got the better of him and his trickery grew corrupt and sinful. As punishment for his wicked deeds, Morpheus, the God of Dreams, banished him to the land of nightmares.'
Bra dug her fingers into the book jacket, her heart pounding. "This is ridiculous," she muttered, but could not tear her eyes away from the words on the page and nearly bumped into a little girl, who brushed past her skirt as she ran by.
Bra mumbled an apology and read on.
'Loki fathered many children, the most famous he bore together with Angrboda, the Giantess: Fenrir the Wolf Lord, Hel, ruler of the realm of the dead and the Midgard serpent, or Leviathan, who was said to be so massive that only the oceans of the world could contain its vast bulk.'
Suddenly Bra felt very stupid and very gullible. "This is ridiculous," she grumbled and toyed with dumping the book in the nearest trashcan, when a shrill cry suddenly startled her out of her temper. A young girl, the same who had passed her only moments ago, had tumbled onto the busy main road. Blood drained from Bra's face as she saw the approaching truck slam on its brakes and she realised with horrifying certainty that it was too late. She dropped the book and dashed towards the road, her fingers brushing the child's arm before something caught her violently around the waist and hauled her backwards. The world spun in her vision, the truck's horns blared in her ears and she tumbled over and over again. Something wet and sticky hit her cheek.
Bra lay on the cold sidewalk, dazed and too petrified to turn around. She touched the wet substance on her face, feeling sick. 'No…'
"Bura!" Someone was calling her name. "Bura!"
Slowly, Bra allowed the hands around her waist to ease her into a sitting position. Her head was throbbing.
"Bura? Are you alright?" the voice asked, a concerned tone. Gentle fingers brushed the bruise on her forehead.
Bra was shocked to find herself sitting in Goten's lap, his worried face studying hers. "Goten? What are you doing here?" she asked, frowning.
"Never mind that," Goten replied, impatiently. "What the Hell did you think you were doing out there?"
He was angry, she thought. Goten was never angry.
"That girl," Bra stuttered, choking on a sob. "That little girl was hit, I couldn't grab her in time. I heard her mother scream and saw her run onto the road, but it was too late -" the words came out in a garbled heap as the guilt washed over her.
But when she caught the look of bewilderment on Goten's face, her heart sank.
"Bra, you're in shock. There was no one on the road. You ran out in front of a bus." Shaken, Goten brushed the hair from her forehead. "For a moment I thought I'd lost you, Bunny," he teased, shuddering a laugh. He dropped his head and groaned. "Vegeta would have killed me if anything had happened to you."
Bra said nothing, only curled her head into Goten's shoulder and stared at the road, buzzing with traffic. She touched her cheek, still wet with blood.
oOo
Ladybugg: I'm glad you're enjoying the mystery! Hope the conclusion doesn't disappoint you XD
Vladegurl: Cheers! lol, to be honest I don't really know what's going on either... Well, I do to a point I guess. I'm hoping to suprise myself D
Leanne: Haha, the old one WAS bad! Terrible in fact. I'm hoping my writing has improved since then. Thanks for the review, I hope you liked this chappy!
Serverussweetie: Aww, thank you so much for reviewing this luv! Glad you like it hugs