Author's Note: Woohoo! Another update. Not sure how I feel about this one. Meh. Let me know what you think! A huge thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. I really appreciate it and I love you for it. Seriously. (:

Enjoy!

Website: ay-vb . sakura . ne . jp/_top . html
1. Erase the spaces between the words and the periods. Obviously. xD.
2. The website is in Japanese, but that's okay. At the top there is a list of words in English. Click on GALLERY.
3. Left hand panel is a bunch of words, in Japanese. But the numbers 365 are obviously numerical so you can read them. Click it.
4. There's now a drop hand box thingy to the left, and again the numbers are numerical so don't worry about not being able to read the title of the picture. Just follow along with the numbers. Click number FIFTEEN for this drabble!

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

Like Clockwork (365 Days)

Day 015: Waiting for the End

There was never any logical reason why dark scenes of the past would suddenly haunt Vegeta's mind. He never knew what the trigger would be; he never knew what they were brought on by, and he never know how long the barrages of scenes would last. The only thing he could do is grit his teeth and try to get through it without having an 'episode'. His body tensed in preparation as his mind clouded over, the room around him starting to grow dark, the last image he had of the 'real world' was Bulma looking at him with knowing eyes and a concerned frown.

The world went dark and he was falling too fast for him to brace himself, and his body felt like lead when he finally crashed into a heap on the ground. Gritting his teeth, he opened his eyes to a familiar room, a room he wished vehemently to never see again. A familiar ache made itself present in his body, as the Saiyajin was suddenly able to feel the extent of whatever injuries he sustained, a muffled groan coming from his mouth.

"Get up," a harsh voice commanded him. His eyes snapped to the right and he saw Zarbon standing over him, eyes narrowed and trained on the prince's battered body. "I said get up."

Vegeta twitched and then moved, grunting in pain as he shakily stood up from the floor. On the other side of the room was Dodoria, looking on with a pleasurable smile plastered onto that ugly face of his. And in the center of the room, still sitting in his hover chair, was the tyrant Frieza. And even though Vegeta's mind remained as it was in present day, the reflective surfaces around the circular roomed showed Vegeta to be several years younger and beaten to hell and back.

"Don't you see, Vegeta? No matter how hard you try, or how hard you struggle, you will never be able to beat me. You can't hardly touch Zarbon," Frieza taunted him with a laugh, pointing an accusing finger at the Saiyan. "Of course, I can hardly blame you for your actions. You're a stupid monkey, and like all the other stupid monkeys, you seem to be unable to comprehend when you're facing a superior."

Vegeta's teeth mashed together in annoyance. He wasn't sure exactly what the date was, and quite frankly he didn't care. Attempting to reassure himself that this was only a nightmare never helped, but instead of playing out the scene as it should have gone, Vegeta went for the simpler route that allowed the dream to end quicker, which was to piss the tyrant off. So instead of answering, as he should have done, he instead opted for a subtle, "Fuck you."

Zarbon was on him in an instant, growling and cursing at Vegeta and punching him over and over again for his 'impudence'. The prince defended himself as best he could, which wasn't much thanks to his current state, but he'd be damned if he allowed himself to roll over and take it. Over the sound of Zarbon beating him, Vegeta grunted and turned his attention back to the tyrant who was frowning and looked quite upset.

"Zarbon, enough!" he suddenly shouted, Zarbon stopping what he was doing and immediately released Vegeta back onto the floor and backed up, his eyes narrowing. Vegeta coughed and watched with some slight amusement as blood pooled onto the floor from his mouth, and steeling himself, he stood up once more. He turned his attention to Frieza. "Tell me, what's the meaning for this peculiar behavior, Vegeta?"

"Maybe he's just having a bad day," Dodoria suggested.

"You're all pathetic," Vegeta said darkly, his eyes trained on the tyrant. Frieza stood from the hover chair and without a second thought jumped down, arms crossing as he stalked up to the prince. Vegeta's body tensed and prepared itself for the pain that was about to come.

"You stupid monkey, do you not realize with whom you're speaking to?" Frieza asked with narrowed eyes. "I hope you reconsider this behavior, regardless of the reason, otherwise you might find yourself to regret it."

Vegeta contemplated his next words as he bent forward slightly, not backing down from Frieza what so ever. "I said, fuck you." He didn't feel the initial hit, but by the time his brain realized what was happening to him he could barely stop himself from screaming out in pain. Frieza had the tip of his tail embedded in the Saiyan's shoulder, and with a malicious look in his eye he dragged his tail downward. Zarbon and Dodoria were behind the Saiyan, holding him down as best they could as Vegeta yelled out and struggled, dark spots clouding his vision as the tail dug deeper, now about halfway across his torso. There was a huge ringing in his ears and someone calling out to him, but he couldn't make out who it was. He struggled further, gasping for breath as Frieza's tail finally ran out of room to cut through, and he retracted the tail that was now covered in the prince's blood.

The open wound bled profusely, covering the lower half of Vegeta's torso in blood and even painting the floor in bouts of red. There was something yanking on his hair as his head was tugged back, and he could hear Frieza hiss in his ear, "You will learn your place, monkey. Don't ever forget that you belong to me." Vegeta's vision clouded even further and that voice from before was louder, and to the prince it sounded oddly familiar.

"Come back to me," it whispered, tempting Vegeta's pain stricken body. The room around him started to fade, as did Dodoria and Zarbon. And finally, finally, Frieza's smirking face disappeared and Capsule Corp came back to him. Panting hard and both of his hands clutching at his skin over his torso, Vegeta thrashed against Bulma, trying to close the imaginary wound. Bulma watched carefully as his hands moved quickly over at the biggest scar on his body, as if he was trying to stop it from reopening. She uttered nonsensical words of comfort in his ear and held him as best she could, waiting for it to be over.

"I can't—" Vegeta muttered, struggling to speak.

"Yes you can. Fight it. Come back to me," she whispered to him, one hand smoothing over the scar he was still messing with. His body convulsed several times as he struggled, and then finally his body simply gave out and he let out a groan as his hands fell to the floor and his body slackened in Bulma's grip. His breath was shallow and quick as the fog cleared from his eyes. The room had been cleared of all of its previous occupants save for Bulma and Vegeta, and Vegeta noticed the couch he was sitting on had been broken in half and he was now sprawled out on the floor.

"Dammit," he muttered, feeling completely drained and exhausted.

"Wasn't so bad," she murmured against his ear, helping him sit up. He grunted but didn't answer, and instead pushed himself up off the floor. He was still feeling shaky and drained, but he wasn't about to let her half carry him all the way to their bedroom. He just wanted to get cleaned up and go to sleep.

"I'm gonna go shower," he told her, turning to leave. She titled her head to the side, understanding his need to be alone and the need to help himself and nodded, programming a cleaning bot to start cleaning up the living room.

"Alright. I'll be up in a little while." And as if nothing had ever happened in the first place, Bulma carried on with herself, not paying Vegeta any attention. For that the prince was silently grateful, and so he headed up the stairs and began the process of purging the memory from his brain.