"Hope Leaves"

...Gone for days without talking, there's a comfort in silence. So used to losing all ambition, struggling

to maintain what's left. There's a wound that's always bleeding, There's a road I'm always walking,

and I know you'll never return to this place'...

-Opeth

It was deep in the night during the darkest hour, the hour that comes just before the dawn, that a pair of black eyes flew wide open. Despite the appearance of pure nothingness within the room there were vivid, violent images passing wildly across his vision, casting a spell over the mind that was forcefully projecting them and luring it deeper and deeper into a twisted reality of long ago.

'Hey, hey hun... hey! Are you awake?'

Vegeta didn't respond to the worried voice beside him, trapped in a powerful trance and unable to sense anything outside of it.

'Vegeta you're dreaming, wake UP!' She said this last part quite loudly and punctuated it with a slap to his forehead. It got the desired effect, she seemed to have acquired his partial attention. A tense silence filled the air.

'Woman,' he whispered after some time had passed, 'you have the most impolite ways of waking people up.'

'You were dreaming again, I'm sorry. Are you OK?'

'A feeble slap won't kill me.'

'That's not what I-'

'Shh. Lay down.'

She let out a small huff at being ordered around, but she was used to it by now. It was having her questions evaded that annoyed her the most. Still she lay back down, too tired to care at the moment, and as she did she felt a hand snake around her waist and draw her into the warm body that had always curved to fit her own so well. Hot breath now danced over her neck and earlobe like a summer breeze. She was somewhat irritated but did not pull away, allowing herself to sink into the comforting heat of the contact, to relax as their bare limbs slowly curled and twisted together like tree roots and their skins melted together like sap. The hand stroked her stomach for a while, tickling ever so slightly, then began to knead her back and breasts. Fingers moved around, over and through the canopy of her flesh, molding, flattening and leaving impressions as if they were wandering through plains of soft white sand.

She felt his other hand reach under and around her, coming to rest in the crevice between her thighs where it began rhythmically stroking, first slowly, then quickly, then slowly again, creating an ebb and flow of blissful sensations at the complete mercy of his will. Their breathing grew harsh and ragged like sea air and their movements feverish strokes as they drew closer still, his strong arms encircling and lifting her then practically throwing her against the wall. The increasing roughness of these acts seemed to mesmerize her and a powerful, irresistible current was dragging her further and further out into stormy waters, leaving nagging thoughts behind on the almost forgotten shore. He flowed into her with the force of waves crashing into one another and inevitably becoming unified as they meet, a force that drew her deep under into beautiful darkness, gasping for breath as she drowned...

But something brought her rapidly to the surface.

'Wait stop!' she squawked, louder than intended, and got an even louder reply.

'Goddamn it woman, WHAT?'

'You... you didn't answer my question-'

'What fucking question?'

'Well, you know. Are you alright?'

'I'm not NOW!'

'Stop avoiding my fucking question!'

'I've no idea what you're talking about you raving lunatic-'

'Yes you do, stop lying!'

The only response this last remark earned her was a frustrated growl and the sound of her husband's body flopping unceremoniously back onto the bed.

'Nothing to say now? That's just like you, giving me the silent treatment whenever you don't get your way.'

'Hmph. Go to sleep. It's far too early in the morning for your theatrics.'

'How convenient for you. I'll just go back to sleep and wait till you're ready to talk about this thing which by the way is affecting people other than yourself, not that that would matter to you.'

'Sounds like an excellent idea.'

'Note the sarcasm. If I wait for you to be ready I'll be waiting a lifetime.'

'I don't know what the fuck is the matter with you lately woman, but whatever it is you're driving me insane!'

'I honestly don't think you need my help in that department. Not the way you're headed.' Bulma felt the tension begin to rise like hot air the moment the cruel words were out of her mouth, making the room feel cramped and stifling. There was quiet for a minute or two, more unbearable than any harsh words could be.

'Are you calling me crazy?' He said, finally breaking the silence with a voice that was dangerously low, a voice she knew like the back of her hand and did not fear at all. It was part of a simple but deceptive facade constructed to frighten people away when they came too close to uncovering the things he would have preferred stayed hidden, and she no longer paid it any mind.

'No, I'm just angry,' she replied sincerely. 'I want you to see what you're doing to yourself and me and this family. These dreams you have, they're not normal-.'

'What would you know? Been inside my head have you? Perhaps you should tell me what you saw there before you tell me what's normal and what isn't.'

'I don't have to be inside your head to know that what's in there is tearing you apart piece by piece. You dream when you're asleep, when you're awake, you... you... I can't deal with your moods anymore! If you'd just talk about it every once in a while then at least I'd know what was going on and be able to try to understand! And maybe you wouldn't feel the need to disappear or go quiet for days on end! Maybe you'd just feel a little more balanced and normal instead of angry one minute and calm the next. It can make things a whole lot easier when someone actually understands what you're going through you know. I could help you, maybe. You have absolutely nothing to say about this. You're not even listening are you?'

'What's the point? I've heard it all before. I'm not going to listen to this bullshit over ad over again. I am not crazy and I resent you implying that I am. You've got some nerve.'

'Do you know what people who are mentally ill say when you tell them they're sick?'

'What? Since you know so much, tell me. What do they say?' he sneered.

'They say 'I'M FINE!'.'

The crackling heat of his energy could be felt coursing through the room as a bird outside the window sang its morning hymns, oblivious to what was going on inside. The air practically sizzled with electricity only for it to dissipate as quickly as it had begun to buzz across her flushed skin, leaving the emptiness once more. Bulma watched in the partial darkness as Vegeta stormed out of their bedroom angrily and stood on the balcony for a moment, looking back at her with fire in his eyes, a look which she returned with equal intensity. There was an unflinching determination in her gaze as though she'd acquired some new found strength, but rather than being cocky about it she was simply waiting for the right moment to test it out.

'This isn't over Vegeta. Not this time. You can fly off where ever you want but it won't change a thing. We aren't done here. Come back when you're ready to discuss this like an adult.'

The expression in those sharp blue eyes that accompanied the stern warning was far from fading, and as much as he hated to admit it it almost scared him. Sure enough, within a few seconds the only visible thing one would see looking out on the balcony was still air and a wisp of dawn's light on the horizon.

Five hours gone and still Bulma awaited his return. She had not moved once from the place on the bed where she sat, with arms crossed and lips set in a firm angry line (a habit she'd picked up from none other than Vegeta himself), and neither would she till that face appeared in the window. This wasn't finished, not by a long shot. The thing that baffled her most, that she was forever questioning during these increasingly frequent arguments was this- how could a man so strong and so brave in the face of life threatening challenges be so weak when it came to the simple task of discussing his own emotions? 'You boys are killing me', she mused, laughing sadly to herself with face in hands and weak smile curling the corners of dry lips even as tears gathered in her eyes. This was stupid sitting up like this, no, it was beyond stupid. There'd been well enough screaming for one night, and anyway it was impossible to sit here a moment longer because she really had to pee.

After going to the toilet and throwing on a bed shirt, she fell into bed where the plush mattress and silk sheets practically consumed her. Just as she drifted off to sleep, her words from earlier surfaced to consciousness with a vengeance.

This isn't over...

This isn't over...

It had been five nights since this thought had first passed through her mind just as it was now, five nights and no sign of him. If only she'd kept her mouth shut! But no, he had to hear it. This wasn't the longest he's been gone anyway. He'd be back.

'Mummy?' came a small, cracked voice from her bedroom door. It was Bra, standing there holding half a barbie doll by its tangled blonde hair. The doll ended at the middle of its torso. Jesus, how had she snapped it? She must of split the hard plastic with her bare hands!

'What have you done to your doll honey?'

'I broked it cause I'm really strong. I'm gunna show daddy how strong I am,' came the reply, sounding both excited and sad at the same time.

'Well he's gunna be real proud of you Bra, did you know that?' Bulma replied, getting up out of bed and walking over to take Bra in her arms.

'But where'd daddy go?'

'You know honey. Remember I told you how sometimes when daddy isn't feeling well he has to go to the doctor for a little while till he feels better again?'

'How come you're crying mummy?'

'I'm not, I just... I just want daddy to get better like you do...'

'Don't worry, he'll get better. And then I show him how strong I am, an then he'll be real happy, an then he'll never get sick again,' the little girl said with a sparkle in her deep blue eyes and a huge smile.

'Yeah honey,' Bulma replied enthusiastically, wiping away a tear as she tried to match her daughter's smile, 'you're right.'

Next Time: Will Vegeta be back or not? Will Bulma be able to help him or will she just drive him away? Guess you'll have to read on and find out.

I'll say it now, part of this story will be based around Vegeta's life with Bulma and their family, the other part is going to go into his past/childhood so it will be quite graphic and disturbing at times. You've been warned.

Please let me know what you thought, whether you find the concept for the story interesting, and whether you think it's in-character. Its nice getting feedback to know whether anyone's reading and if its worth continuing.

ps- For those of you who've read 'Drifting through fog', this is the associated story I was talking about writing.