THE PRINCE OF ASH AND SNOW

PART TWO

by The Not-So-Super Saiyan

based off the web comic by Stupidoomdoodles

and inspired by the works of LadyVegeets

CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE ANSWER

CONTENT WARNING: Graphic depictions of violence, some language

JANUARY 13th

The ocean breeze wafted the sweet, salty scent of the fresh ocean across the bar. The man's dark skin glistened with sweat and the salt of the sea under the glow of the string lights. He wore nothing but a pair of short swim trunks that hugged his large, muscular buttocks.. Swirling the bright blue drink with a graceful turn of his wrist he blinked dreamily across the open hut and into the darkness of the quiet beach, watching the people twist and dance. They kicked up the finest white sand that swept through the wind, away from the bar.

How incredibly lucky. He mused to himself, before repositioning to lean against the bar, and taking a smooth drink from his glass.

A deep voice burst through the soft calypso music as someone laughed uproariously and slammed into the smooth, dark wood of the bar. The seated man rolled his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering as he turned to face the man and fixing him with a look of disdain. He leaned in, his wrists crossing gracefully as they rested on his crossed knees. The poor drunk man had been chasing the same woman all evening and clearly wasn't going to get anywhere. It was becoming more than embarrassing, it was pathetic and worse...it was interrupting Ginyu's peaceful night.

"Hon, can I give you a little advice? She obviously isn't into you, and who could blame her? I'd suggest looking elsewhere." He winked, his voice dripping with sass before swiveling around on his stool and taking another sip from his drink.

The drunk laughed dizzily before shoving his hand into the seated man's crotch.

"Is this what you had in mind, mate? Fucking puff…"

The seated man tensed, his eyes focused intently on his drink.

"Gee, you don't know how this works." the seated man said, his voice a playful tone, tugging at the corners of his rich voice. "You see, you have to buy me a drink first…"

Before the drunk could react, the other man had grasped him by the wrist, wrenched it to the side and crashed a fist into his solar plexus.

"See, it would never work out between us, you… you can't even handle it a little rough. What a shame."

Within a fraction of a second, there were bouncers on him.

A fraction of a second later, they too were on the floor.

"Welcome to the party, gentlemen. The more the merrier…." his voice seemed to relish the final syllables as the remaining patrons scrambled and screamed, and those who were brave or foolish enough to challenge him met their fate without having enough time to realize how outclassed they were. It was a flurry of snapping limbs, bashed in faces, caved-in rib cages, and utter carnage. The large man was as creative as he was graceful - no two of his victims had the same injuries or died the same death. All they had in common was a horrible death on a quiet beach.

Most remarkably, as if taking on more than a dozen bouncers and foolhardy tourists wasn't enough, he himself was immaculate. Not only did he avoid taking even a single blow, not a piece of food or drop of liquid - beverage or blood - touched his skin. It was almost poetic the way he moved.

The chaos was punctuated by the sound of a soft cellphone ringtone. Without slowing the large dark man pulled his phone from his pocket and answered.

"Ginyu."

He stopped for just a moment as a sick grin danced across his lips. The drunk man was crawling desperately through the sand and bodies, trying to escape.

Ginyu shoved the phone back in his shorts. Then with a look as cold and deep as the ocean, he met the drunk man's terrified gaze before grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling his head back. He had saved him for last so he could watch. He inserted a few fingers into the man's mouth and yanked until, with a sickening crunch, his jaw snapped from its hinges, blood pouring from the man's mouth. His killer moved his face in, millimeters from his. Ginyu gracefully pulled him in to kiss him, and took a thick swallow of the blood that was spilling forth from what used to be a cute face.

Ginyu smiled. "Thanks for the drink, mate." The words seemed to ooze from his sticky lips. He winked at the man one more time before snapping his neck. He dropped the bloody figure while wiping his mouth, letting the body topple over a barstool before dropping to the sand with a heavy thud.

SEPTEMBER 13th

Bulma lay awake, as she had every night for the past two months. Sometimes sleep came, sometimes it didn't. She listened to the crickets sing their gentle songs and sighed deeply.

Things would never be like they had been. Had they ever really been, though? Was she tricking herself, fooling herself into thinking that what was, had been real at all?

She lifted up her phone and pressed the home button. Ignoring the time she drank in the awkward photo of her and Vegeta that she had set as her background. He looked like he was posing for a mugshot, her arms slung carelessly around his shoulders.

She had been so happy.

Vegeta. Always so serious. She almost laughed to herself as she felt a tear trickle down the side of her face, dance around her ear and disappear into her hair.

10 YEARS EARLIER

Vegeta slipped out into the hallway in somber silence. It was over, for now. The only thing to do was to move forward and never look back again. It had worked out well for him so far. The hallway was empty and the loneliness wrapped around him like a blanket. It was a relief. No need for show or pretense, he could breathe and he did. He breathed and choked on the stench of peculiar cologne.

Out of the shadows a tall, toned teenaged boy emerged. Ginyu. Vegeta struggled once again to control the wave of panic and nausea that so easily rolled up and down his body. Ginyu must have been waiting for Frieza's reception and had seen Vegeta leave his chambers.

Tugging on the hem of his sweatshirt in an act of faux confidence, Vegeta swallowed the bile that rose in throat and wiped the blood from his mouth and nose. It had only been a year, or was it two? He trying to remember Vasili's words.

They can take everything, but pride is the one thing no man can take from you- they can only take it if you give it.

He stood up as tall as he could and pushed himself forward through the humiliation and shame that trickled down between his legs. Ginyu moved from off the wall where he watched Vegeta like a hungry animal, to stand directly in his path.

And for a time that is where he stayed, lips pursed, nostrils flared.

"You're in my way." Vegeta growled squaring up to the large, burly boy. He was easily a foot taller than Vegeta, probably more. It seemed Ginyu had gotten taller since they had last seen each other...Vegeta had not.

"You're in my way." The words punctuated by a thick finger pushing forcefully into his chest. Vegeta knew firsthand how much stronger Ginyu was. Ginyu had made sure of that.

"What do you want...Ginyu?" he didn't try to hide his disdain as the name slipped through his lips, craning his eyes to meet the boy's gaze without lifting his head.

Ginyu leaned in closer, beaming at the smaller boy. Vegeta could practically taste his breath.

"Your head on a motherfucking plate." Ginyu hissed, pushing on Vegeta's shoulders. He caught himself against the wall and pushed forward, cocking his head to the side playfully and crossing his arms. Ginyu knew what he was doing here and Vegeta knew that. He had been called for a mission briefing, which had been so much more than that. It almost always was.

"Tzch, is someone sour because it's been too long since Daddy gave them a good fuck? You'd probably like that, wouldn't you?" Vegeta felt his stomach turn as the words shot out of his mouth, but it didn't matter.

Anything to harm Ginyu, anything to get him out of his way. Ginyu was a foolish target to have but an easy one, he was standing right there. The red hot words slipped out of his mouth, burning his tongue and with that Vegeta did something Nappa had warned him time and time again not to do. He looked up, locking eyes with Ginyu and refusing to look away.

The large boy screamed a guttural cry, launching himself at Vegeta, easily overpowering him. He landed on frail boy's chest, nearly crushing his ribs. Wasting no time, Ginyu began to pound his fists into Vegeta's eye sockets.

"You disgusting little freak. Don't you look at me. Don't look at me. Don't. Look. At. Me." he screamed over and over. At first Vegeta tried to fight back, desperately clawing at the air and trying to push the large boy off of him. He squirmed under the crushing weight of the other boy his sneakers squeaking against the stone floor as he struggled. Ginyu was too powerful and filled with a rage that practically sent electricity crackling through his fists. Vegeta felt a cracking, popping explosive pain that sent a shock through his spine and down into his hands with every hit.

Ginyu did not stop as he continued to scream, pummeling Vegeta's eyes. With every blow that connected with his face he could feel his body jolt. His head began to slip around on the marble as blood poured generously from his face and pooled underneath him, trickling down his neck and matting his hair.

If this is how he was going to die at least he would finally be free. He would not beg, he would not cry. He wouldn't give Ginyu the satisfaction.

"You think you're so special. You think he loves you? You think you're strong but you're weak. You're NOTHING!" Ginyu wailed.

SEPTEMBER 14th

Vegeta woke with a jolt, arms thrown over his face, cold sweat clinging to his skin. He tried desperately to control his breathing but he was paralyzed, unable to move. His eyes darted rapidly around the dark room, tracing the lines of light that spilled in from the open window and danced along the stucco walls. His bones felt hollow as they vibrated in his body, shaking the metal bed frame. It squeaked and moaned under him.

When he finally regained some semblance of control he found his trembling fingers wandering up to the crescent scar that hugged his eye socket. Everything ached. He pulled himself up and blinked away the clouds from his eyes, squinting in the darkness he groped blindly for his cellphone.

3:59 am.

Same as always.

Every morning like clockwork he would wake at 3:59 am, like he had always done. He was beginning to think it would be this way for the rest of his life. It had been almost eight months since he had given the dragon balls back to Bulma, and two since he had left with them. He swallowed the ache in the pit of his stomach.

The bed creaked quietly around him. He needed out. Padding silently across the small room he peeled off his sweaty tank top and pulled on a fresh one trying to blink the sleep away.

Snatching the duffle bag, he crawled through the roof access and scrambled to the top of the building. Out of habit he shoved the bag underneath his legs, looking out on the sleepy city. He never went anywhere without it. There was too much at risk to leave it lying about, even for a moment.

Vegeta had become more and more restless as the weeks dragged on. Running his hand over his face and pulling the condensation from his skin he breathed in the thick, heavy air as deep as his lungs would allow.

Heavy ashen clouds blocked out the starlight, trapping in the humidity. It smelled like rain. He hugged his legs, resting his chin atop his knees. The silence was crushing, he had become used to the sound of Bulma's voice filling the space between words. He tried not to think, thinking meant remembering which almost always led to regretting. He'd rather avoid the whole mess entirely and solve things as he always had, with his hands.

Pulling his left hand away from the tangle of limbs, he held it up to the sky, reaching for the clouds and watching, moving his four fingers up and down, twisting them this way and that. It still looked odd, still felt wrong. The doctor at Capsule Corp had tried to reattach the finger but it was long gone, the nerves were dead. They had managed to save the rest of his hand from the raging infection left from the cauterization. That would have to do.

There were times he swore he could feel it. An itch he could never scratch, a phantom limb. He had adapted quickly enough to working without it but it still felt...wrong. Ugly burn scars wrapped around his hand and through his fingers. A permanent reminder of his last visit to the VIP Suite. A reminder of Frieza, like so many other scars.

He sighed. Scars weren't new. In fact, they were one of the few constants in his life.

He absentmindedly shut off his phone alarm that he still set to 4 AM in case he ever overslept. He never did, but he kept the alarm set anyway.

He shut his eyes and there she was. She haunted him. Always there behind his eyelids. He couldn't escape her, even now as he sat on the empty rooftop thousands of miles away… he still wasn't used to this feeling. If he could have reached inside himself and claw it out, he would have. He never once in his life expected or even wanted to have any kind of relationship like this, but she didn't give him much of a choice, and he wanted to hate her for it, but he couldn't.

That frozen January day it had finally become clear that his life really wouldn't ever be the same...

JANUARY 23rd

Vegeta took a deep breath. It almost ached to pull the air deep into his crackling lungs. He tried to blink the blur from his eyes. There was something...what...what was that? A fan? A ceiling fan...where? Moving his fingers he felt the weight of something on his hand. Bulma was curled up, sleeping peacefully, her head resting on the edge of the bed, hands wrapped carefully around his.

She must have brought me here.

Instinctually, he pulled away. Feeling something he couldn't quite describe...it was an uncomfortable mixture of guilt, anger, and sadness. But he couldn't bring himself to push her away, he cautiously wrapped his hand around hers.

Where was he? Looking around the room he quickly realised he was somewhere he did not recognize. It wasn't his apartment and it wasn't hers...wasn't that hermits house either, but it smelled sterile, like industrial cleaners and antiseptic.

He laid his head back down on his pillow, his mind racing. Turning his head, he saw a digital clock on the table next to him.

3:59

Tzch. He scoffed at himself. How incredibly punctual of him. Even nearly dead, he was too stubborn to break a habit. The breath caught in his throat as pain rippled through his body. It would be hard to not scoff again until he healed.

Committing himself to try and relax at least long enough to be able to stand again, he immediately broke that promise with a wide-eyed gasp. The pain that shot through him this time wasn't enough to distract him from what surprised him.

Bulma's thumb had moved. It was gently caressing the back of his hand ever so slightly.

His look of consternation slowly softened into a smile. Not the usual crooked half sneer he fell into so easily, but a genuine smile. Realizing how foolish he must look, he wasn't sure which disturbed him more - that Bulma was by his bedside, obviously tending to his wounds and comforting him, or that something deep inside him melted at the thought.

He fell asleep pondering that.

Sometime later, Bulma groggily awoke. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she looked longingly and lovingly at Vegeta as he slept. She needed to head down to the lab to rerun the input of codes. She felt so close to another breakthrough but she hesitated. Something was different about him this morning. He was more relaxed, more at peace, and… he was smiling. She had hardly slept at all for the last week that Vegeta lay unconscious, recovering from his wounds.

For the first time in a long time, she left the room with the slightest hint of her characteristically optimistic bounce back in her stride.

SEPTEMBER 14th

Peering through the gap in his fingers Vegeta moved them together and apart peering down at the streets below. His mind ran through the same question it did every dull, restless morning before he packed up and moved on another day of hopping from shadow to shadow, place to place.

How long would he be able to run before Ginyu found him?

There was only one way to find out.

SEPTEMBER 17th

Bulma slammed her fists on the metal work-table and pushed her chair back.

"UGH. Stupid fucking piece of shit. This is so infuriating I could just SCREAM." She yelled at no one.

Her father meekly poked his head in through the door to her lab, a crumpled cigarette hanging lazily from the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sorry dear, did you say something?"

"No, dad. I'm fine." Bulma responded, her calm returning.

Bulma needed to clear her thoughts; they were thicker than usual, running quickly through her mind, weaving around each other, and getting lodged this way and that until she had thought herself into knots she couldn't think her way out of. That was the problem with being a genius. Just because she was smart didn't mean she was wise. She'd been at this for months. Especially the last few weeks she'd been devoting all her waking hours to figuring this out. Since Vegeta ran off she'd lost interest in pretty much everything, but she forced herself to keep busy. Eyes dry from sleeplessness, she tried to blink it away but it just seemed to make it worse. She couldn't stop thinking about him while she worked. Her body was ready to sleep about eight hours ago but her mind had refused to stop it's downward spiral. She needed to think, or stop thinking - she couldn't decide, she'd have to think about that.

She knew the dragon balls encoded information about some kind of nano-technology. She even had most of the programming figured out from what she had previously gleaned from the dragon balls themselves. She just couldn't figure out how to activate the damn things. Every experiment ended in agonizing failure. And if there was one thing she could not handle, it was her own failure. She hated problems she couldn't solve, and perhaps that's why she put so much effort into solving things.

She took a breath as she picked up her things that had fallen to the floor around her workspace. As she straightened out the piles of paper and shuffled her various flash drives into their proper cubbies, she spotted something. She picked the small paper up slowly. The only real photo she had of her and Vegeta. She ran her fingers over the glossy front. Fighting back tears she opened up her phone.

"Call Krillin." She droned numbly. After a few rings his voice cut in, far too cheery for her current mood.

"Hey Bulma, what's up?"

"Have you found anything yet?"

"I do have a job, you know?"

"Did you find anything or not?"

Krillin sighed dejectedly, she could hear him reposition the phone and mumble into it quietly. "I can't really talk about this, I am at the station right now….but...if you insist on bothering me incessantly...no, I haven't. I just checked this morning. There's still no reports or sign of Vegeta, anywhere."

"And you double checked with -"

"Yes Bulma." Krillin cut in. "Just like every day, I cross referenced every system I know, every local, state, and federal department. Nobody has any idea about anyone even remotely resembling Vegeta. It may be easier if the dude, y'know did anything on the radar but he's so far below it I can't even-"

Bulma sighed. "Alright, thanks."

"You know, I even checked in with international agencies." Krillin said, a bit of pride in his voice. "I had to run a virtual machine with a foreign IP running some software to trick the system into believing I was local, but once I got the right coordinates plugged in, I was able to even trick Interpol."

"...Wait, shut up. Repeat what you just said."

"Uhh… come on Bulma, you're more tech savvy than I am… I didn't expect you wouldn't get that. I just tricked a system into thinking I was someone else from a different location. The US Embassy in Israel to be exact." he snickered to himself.

"...co-ordinates…" Bulma mumbled under her breath. "HOLD ON."

Desperately, Bulma started tearing through the pile of papers on her desk… yes… this was it. That vapid bald-headed moron had just stumbled on the key to her problem.

Finally, she found the paper she had been looking for. It had been crumpled and uncrumpled several times in frustration, bits of fine cigarette ash speckled the paper, but she could still read the data on it… as seemingly random assortment of numbers and letters. She'd run it through every algorithm she could think of and gotten nothing…. How could she have been so blind.

"YES!" she yelled a bit too loud.

"Gee, Bulma, give me a bit of a warning next time, will ya?"

"Shut up, Krillin." She retorted, quickly. "Now where did I… aha!" She grabbed a pencil.

She continued to mumble as she did some calculations in her head. She translated the hexidecimal code into base-ten, and then inputted that into her computer… Just as she thought. They were a series of powers of prime numbers… a few prime factorizations later and she had a wonderful set of ... Coordinates.

Bulma laughed. How in the world could she have missed that. She plugged them into her computer.

30.075897, 81.720652

"Nepal." Bulma said, triumphantly.

"You...ya lost me there, Bulma."

"Nepal is the answer, Krillin. It's been staring me in the face the whole damn time." She shouted.

"Yeah...no….still lost."

"Look, I think Kami was from Nepal, originally. I think his lab is in the mountains near ...Khagalgaun."

"Khagwawhuh?"

"Just shut up and get over here. We're taking a little vacation."

"...joy."

"Absolutely not."

"But-"

"No. I said: 'no'. How many times must I say it. No. Not in one million years Son Goku." ChiChi slammed the soup ladle on the table and met Goku's eyes with a threatening glare.

Bulma silently thanked herself for telling ChiChi it was a sightseeing vacation and not...oh…. a search for an obscure laboratory of a long-dead-possibly-mad-scientist in the mountains.

"You just got well enough to help out around here again. I'm not letting you run off half way across the world. It's about time you learn how to be a responsible adult like the rest of society."

Goku turned to Bulma with sad eyes and a sheepish grin. "Gee, sorry Bulma, looks like I won't be joining you."

As it stood ChiChi was not letting Goku out of her sight, though she had conceded with Gohan, allowing him to go for "educational enrichment".

"That's okayGoku." Bulma said cheerfully as she threw her arms around him. "We will miss you." carefully she slid a small crumpled up paper into his hand and smiled. Praying to the Gods he could take a hint and not say anything.

SEPTEMBER 19th

Vegeta slung the duffle over his shoulder and shoved the wad of cash down in his pocket as he watched the motorcycle peel away through the dusty marketplace. It had been a long time since he had been to India. Kanpur was a good place to hide, at least for now. A bustling city nestled along the banks of a powerful river. It was big but not too big. Any of Frieza's men would have trouble navigating the city and he would see them coming from a mile away. They didn't know how to disappear quite like Vegeta did. When he faded into the shadows it was as if he had never existed at all. And here he could easily fade away. That's what he needed.

Ginyu had been hot on his trail for weeks but in the past few days - nothing.

Tossing the old burner phone in the trash after removing the battery from it, he pulled a new one from his pocket and turned it on.

It had been a good nine days since the last call he made….not that he had been counting. He dialed the number and hesitated, looking around the bustling crowd of pedestrians and vendors. This was not the place. Frieza's men may be fools but he had eyes and ears everywhere. He shook his head. He almost made a rookie mistake, he needed to get it together if he was going to survive this. Every move counted. He wouldn't make it easy for them. If Ginyu was going to catch Vegeta he would have to earn it.

And in the blink of an eye, the dark and brooding figure vanished into the bustling crowd.

He pulled the phone from his pocket. It was early afternoon there. He made his way through the winding streets and to his motel fighting the urge to anxiously thumb the phone in his jeans.

Slipping quietly into the shadow of the dark room he tossed down the duffle bag and yanked the phone from his pocket. Dialing the now familiar number. It had neverrang more than once before the line connected, until now.

JUNE 5th

They collapsed onto the bed. And for a while the two of them stayed just like that. Breathlessly tangled together, naked and dripping wet.

Bulma nuzzled into the crook of his arm resting her head on Vegeta's chest and tracing mindless patterns across his skin.

Thoughtfully she rested her hand on the pitted bullet scar on his abdomen.

"I...I wish it could stay this way forever." she whispered and she watched him curl back inside of himself. The warmth in his eyes pittering out.

Tenderly he unravelled and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her amongst the crumpled sheets and blankets.

"It can't." his breaking voice betrayed him. He could feel her gaze but he kept his eyes on the ceiling fan as it spun rapidly.

Something in her told her to drop it, to just let it go and to crawl back into his arms. But she didn't, she couldn't. Reaching out she put her hand softly on his back and forced a cheerful tone, though her voice was barely a whisper.

"We...we could run away. You never have to face Frieza again. We-"

He broke. Whipping around to face her, fire licking his dark eyes the words cut through the stale air.

"No. Bulma. We can't. There is nowhere in this world I can go where Frieza cannot find me." he sighed a tired sigh that collapsed his shoulders and softened his eyes.

"We are alive right now because he wants us to be. If we are right, he wants your research. When you've completed it, and you are so God fucking damn close…" she could see his whole body tense then his shoulders dropped again, "All of this," he gestured to the room around him openly, "all of this will be over."

"Vegeta, you're one of the strongest people I know. I bet that you and Goku could-"

"Bulma you don't understand. Frieza, he's not normal. There's...something wrong with him."

"What kind of something?"

"Frieza is the sort of person who revels in the fanfare. Unanswered questions, mystery...they breed fear. He lives for it. All I know is what I've heard. One story is that when he was a child he was very sickly and small, his father took it upon himself to change that, in doing so he realized that Frieza had talent. A fighting prodigy so to speak. Some of the Ice Men say that he has some sort of muscular mutation that makes his joints and muscles inhumanely strong, others say he is an android. Most just avoid whispering about him at all, out of fear they will be caught. They don't want to end up like..." He was silent for a moment. "Kakarrot's father."

Bulma waited patiently for an explanation. A thousand questions running through her mind.

"I was very young at the time. I had only been under Frieza for two or three years. But whispers of him always seem to rise back up from time to time. More as a warning than a legend. They say Frieza sent him and his team on a suicide purge mission. He was the only one who survived. He tried to kill Frieza. They say Frieza tore him limb from limb with his bare hands. Then as a punishment, he executed every Ice Man associated with him or his team and anyone who they had ties to. Frieza hung his corpse outside to rot. Said it was to teach others a lesson about fealty." Vegeta sneered at the last word. Letting it linger in the air.

"When he's good and ready he'll come for us. No one defies Frieza." He could see the panic in her eyes, "But…," he moved closer, cupping her face in his large, rough hands. "I won't let that happen, Bulma."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to kill him."

SEPTEMBER 19th

Bulma stared blankly ahead through the wisping clouds that danced around the windshield of the plane. She set the autopilot and grabbed hold of the grip that hung from the ceiling, making her way back,to the cabin.

Sleep haunted her. She tried to stay away as long as possible but it called to her. Her body simply couldn't anymore. She was exhausted. Pulling out the small flip phone, her fingers ran over the smooth plastic edges. She flipped it open and then closed again.

Nothing. Still nothing. She should have heard something by now.

Finally after eleven rings it picked up. Vegeta felt the tension in his heart slowly wane.

Something was wrong. The line was silent and it echoed back to him like a gunshot in his ears. Everything in him glowed with adrenaline. He wanted to scream out her name. But he knew better than to break the silence. Finally, it was broken for him with the sound of a smooth, coy baritone voice that reverberated through the speaker.

"Hello, Vegeta. You're looking well."

Vegeta's world stopped, shooting needles down to his fingertips. But he was smarter than that, he didn't take the bait. He waited as the silence carried on absentmindedly rubbing the scar that curved around his eye.

"Well...well for you. Better than Miss Briefs, I would venture to say. She is looking a little pale nowadays. Poor thing hasn't been getting any sleep."

He swallowed hard, keeping his composure and trying to sound as casually irritated as possible.

"Ginyu."

AN: One thousand thanks to all of my readers and their patience with this chapter! My life has been a whirlwind and because this was the first chapter after the comic I really wanted to do it right. A lot of things are on the horizon and I can't wait for them.

Of course a huge thank you to my valiant copy-editors who make me look like less of an idiot. And praises ever be to her Holiness Stupidoomdoodles for inspiring this fic!

XOXO, The Not-So-Super Saiyan