Lost

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Author’s Note: This fic will have a
rotating, sometimes over lapping first person narrative for all
parts… with whoever is best suited to tell each part doing
so. The narrator will be noted at the beginning of each part.
Also Goku’s thoughts are far less disjointed than
Vegeta’s because he is still sane. For now.

~~~~

Part 2

Goku first person narrative

~~~~

He has problems with being touched. Then again, he always has
problems with being touched. He is VEGETA after all. But I
didn’t know the severity of his dislike until he broke down.

They are hurting him. Breaking him down slowly. He has no
resistance left, not here. They are doing things to his mind. He
isn’t Vegeta anymore.

I don’t think anyone is as aware of his loss than him. I
see it in his eyes, whenever he looks at me, which isn’t
very often. There is such an extreme loss there that I can’t
even fathom the torment he is going through.

I want out. I want to escape more than anything.

I also want to be with him. He is dying. It is more
instinctual than anything, a faint scent in my nostrils, an
intuition. He is dying and there isn’t anything I can do
about it, besides be with him and watch him slowly, silently,
fall apart.

I don’t know what makes him hang on…

I only know I don’t want him to leave me. Not here.

~

I fed him with the half of the scraps they left by the door. I
have to force feed him. He isn’t into eating anymore. Or
speaking. Or doing much of anything.

He is cold. Distant and cold. I can never guess what is going
on in his head. Once upon a time his emotions used to dance
across that face as clear as the light of day. Anger, rage,
pride. Now there is nothing there.

I want to help him, but he won’t let me.

I hold him and let him beat on me and do whatever he wants to
me.

I don’t care. As long as I am near him.

They take him away from me periodically. I fight and protest
as much as I can. That doesn’t help though, it only ends up
leading to him, stupidly, having to defend me.

When he is gone I pace the length of the dark cell and curse.
I want to break free. I want my energy back. I want to be able to
break both of us out of this horrible place. Whatever Vegeta, or
my species, has done in the past, no one deserves this. I feel
angry.

I want to kill something.

Really truly kill something… take something alive in my
hands and crush it until it is no longer living, until gore seeps
through my fingers.

I never feel this way. Something is wrong with me. I sit down
and hold my head in my hands.

Though I will never admit it, I think this place is slowly
killing me as well.

I don’t know how long it is until they return him to me.
It could be hours… it feels like days. Time stands still
here.

He is clean, despite his now ragged human clothes, and as
silent as ever. He doesn’t look at me. Not that that
isn’t unusual.

He is jumpy, as we lay beneath the blanket in the back corner
and shiver. He jerks away whenever I touch him, then he moves
back and cuddles even closer, almost apologetically. I stroke his
hair and wonder at his utter submissiveness. He hasn’t been
this bad before. Ever.

Worried, I try to reassure him in anyway that I can. I try to
talk to him, but that just makes him furrow his brow more. He
doesn’t want to talk. He never does.

He confuses me tonight, by doing something I never expected
him to do.

He kisses me.

I try to pull away, confused at his actions. He follows me.
He’s being aggressive now, crushing his lips to mine. When I
try to protest and question him, he bites me.

He wants to have sex.

This is another trick. It has to be…

He hits me. Hard. Demandingly.

Then he sneers at me, tauntingly. He really wants me to do it.

My cheek throbs. My head hurts.

Something inside of me snaps.

I hurt him.

Badly.

Blood drips down the inside of his thigh, decorating his
olive-toned flesh. I stare at it, uncomprehensively, before
realization sets in.

What have I done?

The long low howl of despair I let out makes him flinch. But
he still won’t look at me.

I get off of him, scrambling to the side. I cup the side of
his face, forcing him to look at me. "Why, Vegeta?" I
ask.

He tries to look away. My desperation out weighs his will to
turn away. "Why?!" I demand again, my voice going
shrill.

"You’re hysterical," He replies coolly. The
corner of his mouth twists in a parody of a smile. "Finish
what you started."

"But Vegeta," I say, choking on my words. "I
didn’t start this. You did." I am crying now, tears
streaming down my face. There is definitely something wrong with
me. "I didn’t want to hurt you, I…"

He looks at me. For the first time in a long time I see
emotion on his face. It is something akin to pity. "You feel
too much," He rumbles. "Don’t." He leans up
and licks my cheek, clearing it of both blood and tears. His
actions are gentle. Then his arms tighten around the back of my
neck. I draw in a quick breath, tensing.

He doesn’t let go.

"Just tell me why," I whisper. My face is
barely inches from his.

His eyes glitter dangerously. "Because." He pauses.
"They’ll hurt him if you don’t." He
continues.

He doesn’t say who.

For a long moment I think that he means me. Then I realize. My
eyes widen. I pick a child. His. "Trunks?" I question,
incredulously.

I should know better than to let things that happen here shock
me. Especially after all this time.

He is silent. That’s the only answer I need.

They have Trunks. Oh God.

Vegeta’s teeth graze against my other cheek. It is a
warning that I understand.

My stomach twists. They’re trying to turn us against each
other. I don’t want to loose him. I don’t want
this…

Our mouths meet again. He is slower this time. This time the
actions are a lot less forced.

This is going to happen, whether I like it or not.

The only thing I can think of to do is make it as comfortable
as possible for him.

I bring him to completion this night with my mouth and tongue.
His hands press delicately into my hair as I do so. Those hands
leave to clench at his sides as he comes with a small whine in
the back of his throat. I don’t hurt him again; I make sure
of that.

I only hope that it will be enough.

He sleeps. He actually sleeps restfully after that. He
doesn’t seem to care how close physically he is to me as he
is curled against my chest. I wonder at that.

I run my hands through his hair as he sleeps. He doesn’t
smell as strongly of death any longer. I wonder at that as well.

For the first time in a long while I feel hope.

Maybe we’ll survive this after all.

~

Hope comes too soon. He attacks me again the next day, almost
as badly as the first time. Flies at me in a rage, hits me and
screams unintelligibly at me. I don’t defend myself again,
and he curses me for that too.

I won’t fight him. I tell him that.

He breaks down. His rage seeps away, leaving only weariness
and pain and a knocked over water pail. He sobs outright,
gnashing his teeth and beating his fists against the cold
unyielding floor.

I want to touch him. To reassure him. But I can’t. I
don’t dare too right now.

I can only watch from a distance.

~

They take me from me again. The white clothed men. I am
helpless to do anything. He cries out in pain as they hit him in
the back of the skull as they drag him from the room.

You’d think I’d be used to it by now.

He is weak, weaker than I’ve ever seen him. He can barely
stand when he is returned to the cell tonight, and is delirious
for hours. He’s been hurt badly. Bruises stand out boldly
along his skin and his eyes wear a hunted expression.

Now he stares at nothing, white faced and tense. He
doesn’t respond when I touch his shoulder, concerned. When
he speaks I become even more concerned.

"When I die you need to make sure he’s okay,"
He says, still staring off at nothing. "He" is Trunks.

"You aren’t going to die," I reply,
automatically. Even as I say it, I know it is a lie. It’s
cold in the cell presently, and both of us are shivering. I feel
weaker than an untrained human child right now, which means that
he is much worse.

He ignores my protest. Perhaps he knows it is futile.
"They will kill me in front of you." He continues.
"Or they will make you do it." He gives a half shrug.
"Maybe they’ll let you have some fun first…"

"STOP IT!" I shout at him very loudly.

He turns his head slowly and smirks at me. The expression on
his face is a knowing one. It frightens me.

Vegeta… please don’t do this to me.

I don’t say it out loud, but I’m afraid. I’m
afraid of being alone in here. I’m afraid to be alone. I
don’t want him to leave.

It is awkward tonight. His makes an uncertain sound in the
back of his throat as I pull him to me beneath the blanket, then
he curls into me quickly. Apologetically again. A trembling hand
clenches my shirt.

It’s not just his hand. He is trembling. All over.

I remember two things at this. The first time he broke down,
weeping against my chest, and the night I hurt him myself.

I feel guilty. "Vegeta," I begin.

He grunts.

I lift the blanket from around us and wrap it around him
carefully. "I’ll go." I say. I eye the cold bare
corner on the other side of the elongated cell and reluctantly
get to my feet.

I hardly expect the reaction I get from him.

"No!"

I look back at him, surprise crossing my face.

"No," He repeats, this time in a whisper. He just
looks at me, wide eyed and horrified.

"Veg--?" I begin.

He launches himself at me, unexpectedly. He pushes me down,
burying his head against my chest. "Don’t…"
His shoulders begin to shake. I stare down at him, stunned,
before I realize that he is crying. Again.

My heart aches, remembering the pride he once had.

"Shh… Vegeta…" I murmur, feeling slightly
awkward. I bring my hands up and lay them across his back.
"It’s okay…"

Apparently it isn’t, he merely begins to sob harder. He
curls in on himself, pressing his hands against the sides of his
skull. "Get out of my head!" He shouts. He slams his
fists against his temples again and again. "Get out!"
His voice ends in an odd desperate note. Then he falls silent.
Still.

Unmoving.

Blank.

I think it is only then that I realized the severity of damage
done to Vegeta’s mind.

~

When I finally manage to coax him into sleep, I don’t
leave him. I can not sleep either, and instead choose to sit
awake, watching his troubled brow in the meager light. He is
haunted by nightmares, often tossing too and fro, whimpering
softly.

He is considerably better when he awakes, for which I am glad.
He sits in the corner and snorts softly at me as I busy myself
with bringing him some of the food that they have slipped under
the door. For a fleeting instant I see a shadow of the old Vegeta
in that look. It isn’t much, but it is enough to make me
happy.

Unfortunately my happiness is not to last.

~~~~

~~~~

In the tradition of CardDragonBall:

calico soneji: Thank you, I hope to write more soon. ^_^

macha: All will be explained in time. But for now you have to
glean clues to where when and how from the story. Well actually I
can feed you the when… sometime after DBZ in a universe
where DBGT doesn’t exist.

Sinningia: Thank you for the review, I’m glad you like it
so far!