A/N: Well, here it is! Chapter 21. I'm not sure if I'm happy with it or not, some places are rushed... other places aren't. I can say I like it for the most part.. I'm just, unsure about others. Again, I am so sorry about the very long delay, but with writers block and not being happy with anything that I had written to go into this story, I thought that this story was almost done for.
A wonderful thank you to CourtenyS for her support and the wonderful reviews she has given me. Courtenay, this one's for you. You made me realize that I had to put out another chapter for the people that love this story as much as I do.
Thank you, to everyone that has stuck by me with this long lapse of creativity. Though I do hope that The Leopards Shadow has been able to hold you over a little. Now that I've got the writing edge back, I know what I'm going to do. Remember, review and tell me what you think. I promise no more month in between chapters ever again. It wasn't fair of me.
(Sorry it's so short!)
Chapter Twenty-One:
The front door opened after it was unlocked and the first person in was Isis on her linked leash. It was dropped onto the floor and the black and tan dog took her routine look through the flat as she waited for her Mistress to relock the door and sit down. "Ugh..." Bulma moaned, entering her rented apartment, bags of both paper and plastic in her hands. Kicking the door shut behind her, she dropped some of her purchases on the hardwood floor and turned the dead-bolt. It locked with a loud click. "Coffee..." Dragging the bags into the living room, she threw them on the black leather couch.
Slipping her feet out of the open toed shoes, she pads into the kitchen to pull open the fridge. "Too hot for coffee..." Grabbing a bottle of water, she trudges back into the living room to sort through the bags. Setting the various colored candles on the black coffee-table along with more silver picture frames, Bulma was able to toss a bag onto the white shaggy carpet that stretched out from under the couch to take up most of the living rooms' wooden floor. Twisting the blue cap off the cold bottle she took a long swallow and made a face as the icy liquid slide down her parched throat.
Isis came into the living room and walked to Bulma who proceeded to unclip the leash from her collar. "There you go love. Everything alright hmm? No bogey-men in the closets? Good girl. Go get some water." Slim fingers with their bubble-gum pink nail polish picked up a slim remote and pointed it at the black entertainment unit. Her stereo flickered to life. "I like your pants around your feet..." She let out a giggle and tapped her foot to the rough beat of Nickelback. She sorted through the various items that she had purchased, bringing new clothing into her room, cookies and other junk food into the kitchen to put away in their respective cupboards, she walked back into the living room and looked at the last bag. It was small, and nothing more than a normal paper bag but inside lay a book that would hold her every thought and fear.
After moving away from Japan and realizing that it hurt to breathe, she had decided to buy a journal that she could write everything and anything in. That had been over three weeks ago. Taking a breath, she walks moved back to the couch and picked up the slim package. Putting it in her lap, she flicked the stereo off and the t.v on. Skimming through channels she landed on a movie that looked interesting enough and gathered up the courage she needed to pull the baby blue leather-bound book into the world.
Shaking fingers grasped the smooth volume and drew it out slowly to place with almost reverent care onto the table. "God. That was hard." laughing to herself, she jumped up and walked to the front door where she left her purse and fumbled through it for a moment. A small cardboard box found its way into her hand and then she reached for her lighter. Drawing out a cigarette, she lit to and then inhaled deeply. Exhaling, she moved into the kitchen once more to grab her ash-tray, Bulma went into her living room once more to look at the leather-bound papers that she knew she must write in.
"Later." Bare feet led her to the glass door, toes stepping on the push-lock before her fingers opened the latch that allowed the door to move back and forth smoothly. Traveling onto the desk, she placed the glass ashtray on the wide railing and then slung her arms over the edge. Isis joined her, black nails clicking against the wooden surface. Together they looked out over the ocean. It hand finally started to cool off, a breeze moving the hot air around, brushing her shoulder-length red curls over her back and neck.
The sky want painted with more colors than she could remember seeing for the longest time and tears stung her eyes as she realized that the last time she looked at a sunset was in Japan. In fact, the exact date she remembered all too well. It was that same late-afternoon that she could Vegeta and rayne curled up on the bed, sleeping together. That had been all the inspiration that she needed to start painting again.
Flicking ashes into the tray, she continued to look, unblinkingly across the large body of water. The smoke from her cigarette curled around her digits, swirling and heating up her flesh only to annoy her eyes as she took another drag. If she listened hard enough, she could almost hear the waves rushing over the sand on the beach that was a few blocks away from her new home.
Isis let out a heavy sigh, chin resting on front paws as she looked from her mistress to the water and back again. Bulma felt guilty. "Yes darling. I know." Mashing the butt of her smoke into the ashtray, she turned around and moved back into her flat. Tossing the pack of smokes and black lighter onto the couch, she sat beside them and looked once more to the journal.
"Here goes nothing." Pulling the coffee-table closer to her, she reached into the bag once more and pulled out a black pen and then let her green eyes move over the cover, taking in the silver script that scrolled out across the front cover. A Metaphorical Death. Lips curled up into a slight smile as she traced the writing with the tip of her finger and then with a sigh, tossed open the cover and looked at the blank cream page with its lily in the top right hand corner.
A custom made journal for a twisted soul... She thought bitterly to herself. Uncapping the pen, she held it in her left hand and then took another swallow of water before setting pen-tip to paper.
Jan. 26th
This is my first entry in this book and I now wonder what made me buy it. It's not like it can talk to me or even comfort me when I need it so I sit here wondering why exactly I had to go out and buy this book.
I guess I needed someone or something to talk too about my thoughts. I needed something or someone to sit back and allow me to talk without interruption, something that wouldn't judge me by how I think and feel. But because I know that there is no such person out there that wouldn't judge me on my thoughts, I caved in and bought this book. Paper cannot talk back to me and it cannot laugh in my face. Nor can it make me cry.
The only thing that can make me cry is my memories and the fact that I'm almost totally alone. I feel the way that I did when Matt died. Empty and alone. But I know that I'm not alone because I have Isis with me, and she'll never leave me, though she can't give me the kind of comfort that I need. How can she? She's only a dog. How wrong I am. She's more than just a dog. She's my best and only friend in this strange world.
She turned the page and continued to write.
I feel really pathetic, sitting here and writing about how I have no friends. I don't care. My mind cannot handle anything else right now. I filed my own missing persons report and then told it to all that wanted to hear it. How stupid people are. Anything for a new story, anything for gossip. I don't know how long it'll be until it makes its way to Japan...Vegeta. I told him not to worry about it, not to believe it, but it's so well written that even I believed I was dead.
Bulma Briefs is now dead and no longer around. Her name will be long forgotten, until she's ready to come back out and face the world. Now, I'm Nicolette Ruby Layne, a nobody. I've written up my history like I'm writing in this, on a piece of paper and then read it over and over and over until I had all of it down-pact.
My parents died in a terrible car crash when I was a little over one, leaving me in the car of the law. Meaning, I was an orphan. Rebellious and loud-mouthed, I wasn't adopted and lived in the small building for a full 18 years until I was old enough to start my own life. My parents had left me all their money and when I turned 18, I had full access to the trust-fund that the money had been placed in.
She lit another cigarette and got up, placed the book on the table for a moment while she went and got the ashtray from the deck.
Now I live comfortably in flat with my dog, overlooking the ocean. I work in the mall, at a coffee shop. Nothing fancy but I enjoy it.
My tattoos are easily covered with specialized makeup that they sell in the parlors in America, and thanks to the internet and over night flights, I've got enough to last me at least a year.
I seem to be a real chameleon. I change for the sake of changing, so people won't recognize me if they see me. My hair is no longer blue, but red, and my eyes aren't blue either, but green.
People ask me if I'm part Irish. I don't answer them exactly, but do tell them that my parents were dead so I didn't know. The idiots that run around this place really bother me. Mind you, there are idiots everywhere in the world and I seem to be the biggest one. I had a wonderful life, great friends a fantastic daughter and a man that seemed to be content with us living with him.
Oh Vegeta... how I miss you. I hope you're taking care of our daughter for me and telling her that I love her every day like I asked you too.
I hope that you can understand what I had to do.
She looked to the dying embers of lit tobacco and re-lit it to sit back against the couch, her eyes closed as a flood of memories washed over her.
I have something to tell you Vegeta, and because you're not here, I'll tell you through this journal.
I think I'm pregnant. Apparently the night of sweet, sweet loving we had before I got up and ran from your life decided to follow me. I'm not sure yet, but I'm 5 days late. I'm going out tomorrow and getting a test to check and make sure.
If I am, I don't know what I'm going to do. For sure, I wouldn't abort it. I don't believe in that. I'll love our baby every day. But I'm getting a head of myself. I don't know if I am or not. Still, I wish you and Rayne were here with me. Better yet, I wish I was there with you and our daughter...and everyone.
I hope you know that you plague my every waking moment, and every night I dream of you. I hope you're sharing the dreams that I've got. Now I'm curious to see if I am carrying your child within my womb. I'm going to go and get a test tonight. After I finish writing in here.
My dearest Vegeta, because you are not with me, I shall write to you every day, or as often as I can in this book of mine. One day I might even show this to you.
I love you. With all my heart.
Bulma placed the book on the table along with the ashtray. Recapping the pen, she picked up her bottle of water and finished it off with a few deep swallows. "C'mon Isis. Let's go for a walk." The dog picked herself up from the floor and pawed at her ear for a moment before she ran to the door. Shaking her head with a rare smile these days, she clipped the leash onto the collar.
Walking back into the living room, she grabbed her cigarettes, lighter, purse and then slipped her feet into the shoes she had kicked off earlier. Returning back to the front door she picked up the leather end of the leash and threaded her hand through it. Shouldering her purse, she unlocked the door and swung it open. Keys clinked together as she locked the door and checked to make sure that it was, seriously, locked.
Together they headed down the red-carpeted hallway and as they were about to reach for the button to the elevator, a pale hand came up from behind her and pressed it. Isis stiffened and was about to let out a growl but Bulma placed a hand on her head.
"Nice dog..." a soft voice said, making Bulma turn her head.
"Thanks." Green eyes looked into dark ones, the shade undefined and then found herself looking at a pair of eyelids. The woman and cast her eyes downward. Dark hair with a sharp peak on the brow flowed down to her hips in layered waves, well-defined cheekbones were oddly off-colored. She was roughly half an inch taller than Bulma, and a lot thinner as well. Something wasn't right, and yet she couldn't place her hand on it. This woman looked almost like Vegeta and she couldn't help but stare.
"It's rude to stare you know."
"I'm sorry!" Bulma said softly, cheeks flaring red instantly. "You just look like someone I sort of knew a long time ago."
"Wouldn't know. Only lived here for a few weeks."
The elevator doors opened and the two women, and the dog, stepped inside. Bulma pressed the main-floor button. "I'm Nikki."
She extended a hand to the woman. "Keisha." She shook Bulma's hand. Other than that, they rode in silence for a few moments before they came to a stop and exited.
"I'll be seeing you." Keisha said softly as she quickly walked out of the building. Bulma walked slower mind thinking quickly.
It's not possible. I've never seen any pictures of his sister but she look almost like him. Shrugging her shoulders she pushed on the metal bar that went across the glass window and exited the building. The sun was still setting, though the pink and orange almost totally replaced with a darkening blue. They walked quickly, Isis sticking firmly beside Bulma as her mistress lead them down the street, and then up another, and then around the corner. They came to an all-night drugstore and as Bulma quickly tied Isis up, she went inside and straight to the home pregnancy tests. Grabbing two, she moved with easy to the front of the store where the young man behind the counter.
He looked at her and tried not to show the surprise he felt from seeing this young woman buy a pregnancy test. Not one, but two. "Your total comes to $24.87."
Bulma handed him her debit card and then punched in her pin number. She was handed a small plastic bag, her card and then two receipts. "Thanks." She flashed him a smile and then a sassy wink before she turned on her heel and went back to Isis. The walk home was slower than it took to get there, now that she had the tests she was almost too scared to take them.
20 minutes later, Isis was sitting outside the bathroom door, waiting patiently for her mistress to come back out. Bulma chewed on her bottom lip and looked at the two sticks sitting on the counter. Has it been three minutes?
Her eyes flew to the clock in the bathroom. A minute. One down, two to go. Her breathing became heavier as her eyes followed the second hand of the clock. Two down, one to go. Hands gripped the material of her blue shorts. 30 seconds....20..15... Her legs twitched and as she blinked, three minutes had passed. Pushing herself up from the edge of the bathtub, she looked at her reflection in the mirror before her attention turned to the little white sticks resting on the ledge of the counter.