Hey everyone! Jack V Briefs here, obviously! This fic came to me tonight and I thought it would be an interesting Christmas fic. It's set to the song The Book by Sheryl Crow. I wrote it in about 45 minutes, so make sure you tell me what you think! Enjoy!

Disclaimer; DBZ, or The Book are not owned by me, but by their respective owners.

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I read your book
And I find it strange
That I know that boy and I know his world
A little too well
And I didn't know
By giving my hand
That I would be written down, sliced around,
Passed down
Among strangers hands

Three days in Rome
Where do we go
I'll always remember
Three days in Rome

Never again
Would I see your face
You carry a pen and a paper
and no time and words you waste
You're a voyeur
The worst kind of thief
To take what happened
To write down everything that went on
Between you and me

Three days in Rome
And I stand alone
I'll always remember
Three days in Rome

The cold surrounded the room, the annoying and pure sign that winter was here. The fact that there was a christmas tree and presents spread about my living room made it obvious it was Christmas.

My sigh is solidified in the air, and my breath is a mist, swirling around my head. Damn, was it really that cold in here?

Pulling the blanket around myself, I repressed the oncoming shivers and reached for the thermestat, changing the temperature to seventy degrees. That would do well enough for now. Knowing this place though gave me the sad knowledge that the heater wouldn't be kicking in for another hour. Best to be dressed for the occasion.

The closet space was organized and coordinated by color. It may sound a little pathetic, but when you live alone in the woods and drive an hour to teach literature and it's concepts to high school dropouts, your priorities will change.

There were about twelve sweaters in there, one of them containing a Chrismas-y feel. The fabric was soft and shined in the light, the deep green matching the cream pants perfectly. Two small candy-canes were intertwined into a little symbol over my heart. This was as Christmas as I got.

Something about this holiday had changed for me, and I knew exactly why. The memories of last year's Christmas, of the man I met there and the things that happened that affected me and now, December 31 is just another day.

Let me explain....

* * * * * * *

I was twenty-seven at the time, just out of college with my degree in English Literature and a mind full of impossible dreams. Rome was the vacationing location of the year and I wasn't about to let half my friends go without me. I only had three days to go, but it was sure to be three days to remember. If only I'd known then...

After the flight and booking our rooms in local hotels, we'd left the lavishly decorated Christmas halls to enter the streets of setting sun in Italy. It was the day before Christmas Eve and my three friends and I didn't intend on spending the holiday alone. Of course, we didn't plan on planning it together either.

The plan was childish and immature in it's ideals, but this would be our last freedom before we settled into our careers and tapped into our patience as though our lives depended on it. This was it.

Lighting was dim in the cafe/club we entered. Shadows were cast upon cheerful or despairing faces as the mirror behind the bar reflected their image. The spirit that filled the air was envigorating and brought up our resolves.

Drinks were ordered and drank, though I only had two compared to my friends four or five. I did have some limitations and moral at my age.

The two sauntered off, prey sighted in their alchohal-fazed eyes. I settled myself down on the seat and looked around, looking for someone to converse with myself. Converse...Riight...

Looking towards a corner, I saw I wasn't the only one giving people a look over. Blue eyes stared at me within the confines of the darker area, only a dark shade of purple seen as his hair. It must just be black, I'd thought to myself. No one has purple hair...

He stood as he found he had complete control of my attention. He was one of those kinds of men, the ones who knew when they had you reeled in and awaiting their call. I'd loved every minute of it.

As his steps brought him closer, the light of the bar hit his face in it's entirity for a moment and my eyes widened. It hadn't just been a reflection, though it was a much lighter shad of purple than it had seemed a moment before.

"Hi." The words held an unknown meaning, neither friendly nor mean, nor was it seductive. But something about them made me smile and lean against the bar, replying with the same word.

"I haven't seen you around here before, and you definately don't look the part of a Roman." I didn't know if I should be offended or complimented, so I didn't reply. If he noticed, it didn't show.

Conversation was light, small flirtacious phrases thrown in here and there to keep the other's interest in tact. The moon was full as we finally stepped out of the building, the alchohal of another drinking burning through my veins and keeping me warm.

"I'd like to see you again." The words were a little rushed, but then again, he'd begun to walk away. I couldn't let him go. It was amazing how a few well strung words and the right intensity of a gaze could do to you.

"I'd like that," was his only reply. Silence covered us and snow began to fall in lazy flakes, scattering around us. He leaned forward and kissed me, lingering for a moment before pulling away. Looking into his eyes, I knew when and where I'd see him again. In a swirl of black coat, he was gone, and I walked home to sleep through the day and sit with impatience awaiting the moment when I would see him once again.

* * * * * * *

We did meet again the next day, but most of the night wasn't spent wandering the streets. The man it seemed, had a name. Trunks. There wasn't a last name and when I'd asked him about it, he'd nearly smiled. My naieve mind had me thinking him enigmatic, and loving him that much more for it. Love and lust are just as similiar as different sometimes.

Passion took us over that night as we entered his hotel room. He lived above the privately-owned building, renting it off money from his writings, he would tell me during one of the few breaks we took that night to relax.

I don't remember much of what he said. His eyes were distracting me. The shade of blue fluctuated, shifting from light to dark in a matter of seconds as he changed the subject. Such passion was voiced through his words, I spent the night filled with them swirling around my mind. I'd never met someone so true to their beliefs. It was invigorating.

The next morning, which found me very sore yet very satisfied was wonderful. The owners of the building were holding a special Christmas Day celebration in the dining hall and we joined in the festivities. We danced. We ate. We talked.

Love sprinkled around my heart as the day progressed and that night, before I left to return to my comrades, he gave me a gift. It was a small key, no inscription.

"You'll know when to open it. Trust me on this one." I had to resist the urge to repeat the previous nights actions at the sound of his voice, but I knew I had to control myself. I was leaving in two days. Tomorrow we'd meet again in the cafe and enjoy our last day together, planning our next meeting. Things were looking wondeful.

* * * * * * *

I awoke an hour early so I could take my time, making my clothes and looks impecable for him. Once satisfied, I grabbed a coat and escaped to the cafe.

My patience held strong as I sat in a back booth, my eyes darting towards the door at it's every moment.

An hour passed. He still hadn't arrived. Surely, he'd come. Maybe there were problems with his residence? It was on the other side of the city. I could wait.

Another hour passed. Then another. The crowds thinned as six o clock approached. My back straightened as the shocking realization that I'd sat there for nine hours occured to me.

He wasn't coming.

* * * * * * *

I returned to America the next day, and settled into my house that I know reside in. The shock didn't hit me for awhile and I tried to fool myself like so many others. Force myself to believe he had befallen some impossible accident that had prevented him from seeing me. But deep down, I knew it wasn't true.

And yet, a small part of me still held hope and believed he'd come back for me someday. That's why my Christmas gift to myself that year was to buy a chain and put the key around it. It'd come in handy someday. I was willing to wait.

There a sound at my door, knocking me from my memories. The heater had warmed the house a little, but I still rubbed my arms from the layer of cold. It had only been a half hour.

Opening the door found me no one, just a small wrapped package. Suspicion tapped at the back of my mind, but I picked it up anyway and brought it inside, searching for a tag of some sort. Finding nothing, I figured the best way was to look inside. I got a free gift out of the whole deal anyway.

Peeling away the paper, my eyes saw the details of a fairy carved into the wood. My hands brushed it and moved to open it, but something prevented the action. There was a lock at the front of the box, and it all clicked.

I brought out the key from the confines of my sweater and stuck it in the lock. There was no resistance this time and my eyes narrowed in curiousity as I lifted the book.

'Three Days in Rome' by Canfield Forrester. I opened the front flap and read the description, my eyes widening. The whole thing was...

It was about me and him.

But his name had been Trunks...not Canfield. Opening the other end, the picture was there and I swallowed loud enuogh to hear. I'd know that face anywhere. But...why?

Leaning back in my seat, my fingers flipped through the first few pages of the acknowledgement. It read as follows.

'To the inspiration of this book, you know who you are. A writer's heart is a complicated one, dedicated either to his books, or his love. This writer, passed up a chance to write this, and though it was a hard choice, it was the right one in the end. You, my companion of Christmas, are still with my thoughts. I hope this book can salvage things. May your luck be more fortunate than mine.'

A small sound escaped my mouth, whether it was of laughter or sorrow, I couldn't tell. My hand reached for the phone beside me and dialed the number of the airport as I finished it. His ending made his intentions perfectly clear.

"Hello, this is Maryanne, how may I help you?" A smile crossed my features.

I was going on vacation.

Three days in Rome.

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Okay, I'm sorry if you were disappointed with this.. I got the idea listening to this song. I know it's kind a iffy, but I kinda like it. So PLEASE let me know what you think, okay? Thank you!