'Ok, so I said that I was probably going to stop, but I got such an awesome response for this story…or these stories, that I am just going to keep this story a work in progress and add on chapters whenever I get inspired to. So this may be the last chapter, it may not. But who cares, because it's a new chapter! Whoo! So, here is the newest chapter in Tid Bits. Please enjoy.'

Chapter 10

It was a colder night, one where the leaves had fallen off all the tress and the skeletal branches reached out across the night sky. Pale clouds drifted unnoticed before sparkling stars and a frigid wind bit at the skin. It wouldn't stop him, though. Nothing ever stopped him from seeking the other. The one prowling nearer hated the cold, hated the ice and the freezing breeze, but he swept forward across the frosted dead grass with no hesitation. The situation was unavoidable.

Piccolo turned toward the sound of sticks breaking. The slight sound of light breath didn't fly unnoticed past his large, elf-like ears. The shadowy figure stood in the distance, an ungloved hand pushing back the spindly twigs of the bushes and trees. Adorned in baggy black attire, he blended in with the blackness surrounding them, but Piccolo could see the shining dark eyes piercing into his own. So the confrontation had begun.

Piccolo's heart beat faster as the small, sleek figure moved forward, the tall, feathery hair twirling with the winter wind. He did not falter, though. The saiyajin never stopped when he was on a mission. And it was nights like these that Piccolo knew he was done for. He would not be going back to his peaceful meditation tonight.

Vegeta sat on the rock below the Indian-style Namek and heaved a sigh. Bringing up a booted leg and crossing it over the other for what seemed like the millionth time, he launched right into the woes of his past few days. As usual it was the moping anger and loneliness without having "Kakarotto" nearby. Ever since he left on that cursed dragon his days had been shit and boring.

Listening to the saiyajin drone on and on in the bitter cold night, Piccolo found himself remembering when the arrogant prince first started coming to him. Why, it had been around the first time Vegeta had arrived on earth for good, living at Capsule Corp. that the graceful prince arrived without invitation during one of his meditations. The namek found the situation very strange and somewhat unnerving at first, thinking that the cocky male had come for a fight. But he just stood there in his plain blue under-uniform, his arms crossed, and his eyes sharp, staring at the confused namek.

"What do you want, Vegeta?" Piccolo had asked.

At first he didn't respond, but just stared with that piercing gaze. But then…he sighed…and lowered his head. Making his way quickly toward the sitting namek he plopped down, just as he was this night, and without any warning just launched into his problems.

"I don't know where Kakarotto is," he had snapped. "Did he die against Frieza? Did he escape planet Namek and is alive now? I know I gave the idea that he could be wished back to earth's spirit realm and then here, but what if that can't happen?" He stood then and paced nervously back and forth in front of the bewildered warrior. "I refuse to believe that I am the only saiyajin left. That brat, Gohan, doesn't count. He's only half. Gah!" He stopped and threw his gloved hands in the air. "It's not like I'm worried about the idiot. That dolt took away my chance to destroy Frieza. But I'm not going to wait to die to kill him. If he is dead and isn't wished back, I'm going to the next dimension and taking him out there!"

Piccolo watched, quite unsettled as the usually arrogant, composed prince stood tapping his foot and pondering. At this time, the two could not have been considered close. Vegeta had brutally murdered hundreds of Nameks, had helped destroy Piccolo himself, and was nothing but an asshole to him and those around him. They weren't necessarily the closest of friends. But here Vegeta had stood, in the middle of the day with his gloved finger to his mouth as he thought.

"He's not dead, though," Vegeta continued impatiently. "I can feel him. He'll be coming back. But, when…I don't know. And when he does…he'll be sorry. He thought Frieza was bad? He won't know what to think when I'm through with him! God…leaving me here, on this God forsaken planet with that…crazy wench!"

He bent into a fighting stance as his thoughts were immediately turned in a different direction towards Bulma. Piccolo noticed the vein pop out of his temple but said nothing, still too perturbed by this invasion.

"Look, I know you're a-sexual, but hear me out. That Bulma woman and her crazy mother are mad, I tell you. I've met some crazies before, but they take the gold metal for being pure crackpots. I mean…God! It's either Veg-head do this or Vegeta-darling try this or Vegetable-breath don't talk or eat or sleep or Vegeta…you dick, stop blowing shit up! I mean…fuck…what else am I supposed to do? I'm fucking drowning here on this backwards psycho, shit planet! Maybe you're used to it, but I've been here for three damn weeks and I have to put up with that clinging, imbecile…Bulma's mother, Bulma herself, that horrid black cat that's always on her father's shoulder…and oh yeah, an assload of damn Nameks who want to slit my throat or blast me in the face every chance they get. No offense to you are anything, but I'm going fucking mad!"

Vegeta stopped his tirade and took a breath. Placing his gloved hands on his hips he stared out into the, then, lush, green forest and sighed. There was a lovely silence from the enraged prince's voice and the peaceful sound of birds chirping, woodland animals chattering, and a light wind blowing through the leaves as he calmed himself. Turning slowly around the prince gave the namek a calculating stare.

"Good talk, Namek."

And with that, the now calm prince turned and made his way out of the serene little area where Piccolo liked to meditate. Pushing some branches and leaves away; Vegeta turned his head and eyed the green-skinned fighter dangerously.

"This never happened."

Piccolo merely nodded and watched as the small saiyajin left him to his own thoughts.

And that was only the first time. More and more the prince would just return and scream his head off about his lousy day and automatically be more relaxed. Piccolo would rarely say anything and Vegeta would leave in much better moods than the namek ever saw elsewhere, and he never told anyone about the little tantrum sessions either. Over the years, an unusual friendship grew between the two and Piccolo thought more and more why the prince insisted on coming to him. That first time was just so surprising that it hadn't occurred to him that perhaps Vegeta had no else to talk to about these things. Surely a person couldn't keep everything bottled up inside for so long. Vegeta seemed the type to be so enclosed in his own world that maybe he had found his outlet to let out some of his stress and thoughts. And Piccolo had non-verbally volunteered to be that outlet.

Year after year, he sat and listened to the prince rant and rave or give the details of his days. More and more he began to understand the saiyajin even if it was unintentional. The things that came from the man's mouth, though, were hard to hear sometimes, yet so amazingly profound and mind-blowing. He could see why he couldn't always talk to Bulma. His descriptions on a mission were disgusting, brutal, and horrific, making them almost impossible to tell to his wife (or mate as he preferred to call her). Goku wouldn't understand or would just get pissed off at the gory details. Plus, Vegeta's vocabulary and different ways of thinking would probably be a bit over the third-class saiyajin's head.

So who else would listen to the poor overwhelmed person but one who had been like him in the past? Piccolo was ever amazed as years went by. More and more the namek was able to personally see the saiyajin changing. He came to earth a cruel, evil villain and more and more changed and molded into a new being. As he spoke more about his pains and annoyances, Piccolo could see that this high-class prince with his proper grammar and pronunciation, his keen arrogance and smooth talking, was really an extremely naïve and confused individual.

He'd complain and complain about the "simplistic earthlings" yet the mere deep emotions of love, care, worry, hope, and trust were just things he could not understand. Piccolo would sit there in all his wisdom, not saying a word and each time Vegeta returned to him, he had miraculously learned something new or had discovered a new way of thinking or saw something that was absurd…yet worth thinking about. As truly empty and heartless the namek believed the prince to be when he first met him, he was blown away then by the ideas, imagination, and random words that would flow from the retired mass-murderer.

And as much as Vegeta was an amazing being to behold…he was so, so tiring. It was always something new to complain about. There was always something else he needed to "get off his chest" or bitch about or point out or just talk about. Usually it was Kakarotto or Bulma, but in general, it was mankind altogether.

Being an alien at one base under the rule of one evil tyrant had made him confused to his new life on earth. But luckily for him, he had found Piccolo, his outlet to plug his entire negative or confused ramblings into.

As Vegeta droned on into the late, cold night about his loss of Kakarotto, Piccolo only half listened, hearing this tale a lot since Goku had left. Indeed it was hard to handle that the kind-hearted being was gone, but just as before, when Goku died against Cell, he and the other earthlings were able to let go and understand their friend. As usual…Vegeta could not.

"Don't get me wrong," Vegeta said as he leaned up against his cold rock. "I love Bulma and my family a lot, but they're not full-blooded saiyajins. Bulma is only getting weaker as days carry on and Bura has her own set of friends. Trunks is taking over Capsule Corp. and all the humans are too weak and cowardly to spar against me."

He heaved a sigh and went silent for a moment as the wind whistled harshly through the withered old trees. Piccolo glanced down from his taller rock and observed the now quiet saiyajin. The loneliness and depression ate at the strong prince and Piccolo could feel it. It was painful. He knew that Bulma wasn't going to be around forever and it killed him. If Goku were still around, he'd know that there was someone or something worth living for. Of course Vegeta had Trunks and Bura and he loved them dearly, but Bulma was his true love. She had his heart and he dreaded the day she would die. After Goku left the powerful being had no one else to fight. He had no one that could match him.

"It was my dream," Vegeta once said during one of their sessions. "My whole life I wanted nothing more but power and I finally have it. Kakarotto is gone for good it seems and no one can stop me." But even as Piccolo heard this he feared not. "But I don't want it anymore. I don't know when I lost this feeling of destroying and conquering, but it is long gone and now…now what do I have? Why should I train? Why should I fight? I'm not leaving earth. I am staying with Bulma. I am staying with Trunks and Bura. But what then? After they are gone…I will surely still be here. I'm a saiyajin. I will…I will still be here."

And Piccolo said nothing to his silent tones, his dead voice. He just let the prince speak, as he always did. And Vegeta always found his answer, too. It could be an hour to a full day of him ranting and then leaving…then returning to finish his thought, but Vegeta always figured out the answers to his questions. And Piccolo just listened.

Sometimes Vegeta's scenarios were just absurd. Piccolo thought back to a time when Vegeta flew straight at him in a rage, his hair blonde, his eyes green, and his armor scuffed and dirty. It was a few years after Cell and the enraged saiyajin had just kicked the shit out of himself. Landing ungracefully for having beaten his own body to pulp, the super-saiyajin staggered forward, blood leaking from his lip.

"BALOGNEY!" He had screamed.

Piccolo stared for second before frowning. "What?"

"That's what that crazy bitch tried to feed me after I got done training! Baloney! I'm a fucking saiyajin warrior, not some tutu wearing, hug-the-trees fairy! I eat real meat, not disgusting processed food!" With a loud, overwhelmed yell he threw his arms up and stormed around the little peaceful land, blood and sweat running off his face. "Even Trunks eats steak and pork-chops and he's, what, fucking four-years-old! I mean, what is this world coming to? I've lived here long enough for these psychotic earthlings to know that a damn baloney and cheese sandwich is not going to hold me over after training! I mean…what the fuck!"

He had kicked at the ground sending leaves and twigs flying. Even the small tree animals skittered away in terror at the fuming prince. Of course, Piccolo found the whole thing quite amusing. The man could throw a tantrum like no other.

"See, you're lucky," Vegeta barked at Piccolo. "You just live off water. No worrying about what kind of food to eat for you. Bastard. But then again…that kind of sucks, too. I mean, you can't even taste anything, can you? What an awful way to live. I mean…blah! If I couldn't taste anything, I'd kill myself. I eat just to amuse myself…but you, you don't even have that option." He then put his ripped hands on his hips and chuckled. "Wow…I feel much better now."

And then he flew off, leaving the namek and flew back home. Piccolo simply sighed and went back to meditation. He had noticed that Vegeta grew happier when he was able to put someone else down to raise himself up. But no matter. Whatever made the prince happy.

So now it was around 2:30 in the morning and Piccolo was hoping that Vegeta would finish his little speech and hurry off home because of the cold. But…of course not. He was going into more details about his and Kakarotto's relationship, seeing it more as a brother rivalry than anything else. They had been bonded in a way that only saiyajins could be bonded due to the fact that they had been the last two. Now there was only one.

"People call me selfish," Vegeta growled softly as he rubbed his arms together against the wind. "But he doesn't even think about others. I've done some pretty shitty things in my life, but I would never just up and leave Bulma for good. I have left a few times to train and such, but to permanently stay away? No. I could not do that.

"But Kakarott just does…did what he wanted. He didn't let anyone know where he was after Frieza. He let everyone believe he was dead. He went and got himself blown up against Cell and just stayed dead. He had the chance to live again, but he remained in Otherworld and allowed his brat son, his bald, idiot friend….and me believe it was our faults that he was dead. Lets see. He went off to train that Uub brat and then just fucking let himself get absorbed into the dragonballs and never to be seen or heard from again.

"And yet he is still the hero." Vegeta said bitterly as he stared off into the dark, shadowed woods. "He just…abandons people and they say, "it's ok, it's Goku, he's our hero." But do they not fucking know that it's a dick move? Are they so blinded that they can't see how…wrong and cruel it is to just leave and ruin others' dreams?"

Again his voice silenced and only their breathing was heard. Piccolo opened his mouth to respond, but the rough voice of Vegeta spoke instead.

"But maybe I am the selfish one here." His lowered and he stared at his bare, cold hands. "I must be missing something. Kakarotto is such a mystery to me. He must have his reasons to do these things. If everyone else is so forgiving and can see his motives, then maybe I am the only one missing something here. But what? It is not possible that I…that I care for him this much. But…I do miss him. In the means that I miss our spars and fights," he added quickly before standing and pacing.

"Dammit, Namek. Why don't you get more powerful? You've been close to my power, if not stronger than me, before! Start training again and fight me!"

Piccolo nodded slowly and gave the aggravated prince a forced smile. Vegeta scowled and turned to face the moonless sky.

"It's an adventure for him," Vegeta said suddenly without turning around. Piccolo followed his gaze into the night sky. "He's still young, quite young at heart. And with the shit I've seen and done, I'm already that of an old man." His voice dropped down and he heaved a great sigh. "I guess that some of these questions just go unanswered. I don't even know if Kakarotto can answer the ways of his own mind…stupid baka."

Piccolo watched as the small saiyajin slowly walked away, for once, his questions and thoughts not being answered on his own. Piccolo had no information for him. He had known Goku for a long time and just knew that the boy could not be understood. All his close friends chose to let him decide his own life, too. But Vegeta was right. The prince was selfish. He wanted Goku to be there for him if he just wanted to beat the shit out of something or have his own ass kicked. Piccolo believed that not even the prince himself understood this and was too thickheaded or ignorant to know his own desires. Vegeta felt something but he didn't know what. Having no friends or trusted ones in his life before knowing earth the feelings of care and friendship were still hard to figure out.

Someday he would know, though. Someday, without Piccolo saying a word or answering the fervent questions, Vegeta would understand and know that Goku was his friend, one of the closest friends he'd ever had. The green-faced warrior watched Vegeta's back as he slowly made his way out of the brisk forest. He remembered the saiyajin once scoffing at the idea of love, trust, and friendship.

"It'll get you killed," he said simply during a warm spring day by the waterfall Piccolo loved to hover by. "People use your "loved" ones against you. I know from experience. It's been done to me and I've done it to others."

"So you have felt love and friendship before, then?" Piccolo inquired.

Vegeta's dark eyes shot to him. "Um…who's doing the talking here?" He asked snappily. Piccolo quickly shut up. "No one being can be purely good or purely evil. You have to do or feel good things to actually know what being evil is all about and you have to understand evil or do something bad to know what good is. Without the evil you can't see good and vice versa, so shut the hell up and let me continue. Yes…I have cared for someone or something. All the times, it was taken away. That's that. It happens.

"It's so much easier to just not feel. And I know. It is purely earth tradition to love and care and kiss and caress and be kind and all that shit, but lets remember one thing. That's earth. I come from a whole different ballpark. It seems almost impossible to you humans…sorry…earthlings to understand that I am an alien. I come from a different past, a different universe, and an entirely different way of learning and thinking. I've seen some evil shit go down on earth than I have back in the days of planet destroying, all because of religious beliefs or disputed thoughts or ideas. That is fucking messed up. And these humans have the gall to tell me I'm bad. Bastards.

"Anyway, where was I? Oh yes! Love and shit. Earthlings have this obsession with love. They meet each other on a first date and are instantly "in love." You, sorry, these earthlings toss the phrase around as if it were some new outfit they just bought and are saying, "Ooo-la-la, look at how perfect it is and how special I am for having it!" It's bullshit. People use love as something to brag about and when they find out I don't much care for it, they go nuts! Sorry if I'm learning love the wrong way but it's these idiots' faults. They are "in love" the second they meet, bragging about it and rubbing it in my face, and then three days later they're on the phone telling their friends or anyone who will listen how much they hate that "loved one." It's fucking retarded."

Piccolo's eye twitched at his choice words but he remained silent as that spring day carried on. The namek could tell that he was indirectly speaking of Bulma and Yamcha and he could not miss the slight hint of jealousy behind the words. And here the saiyajin was whining about how he didn't love or care. What a laugh.

"I used to think I couldn't care either," Piccolo blurted. "One never really knows how his mind will change as life goes on." He explained as he thought about his change of heart when he met Gohan. The innocent, carefree boy had warmed his heart for the better and he was ever grateful for it. Vegeta narrowed his eyes and sneered at the green man.

"Aren't we talkative today?" He mused.

And the subject was quickly changed. Now Piccolo watched his sullen friend leaving him on the cold night. The session seemingly coming to an end with no answers this time. It had been long ago since the talk of love and caring, but as Piccolo had said, times changed, as did a heart, and Vegeta's definitely had. The confident prince was distressed, but he held his head high as he walked away. Piccolo felt bad that for once he wouldn't leave with a clear head, but not everything would always go correct in a day. Obviously Vegeta didn't agree.

Whipping around he stormed right back toward to the sitting namek, stress and annoyance clearly etched on his features. Piccolo groaned, hoping that he might get some rest before the sun came up, but to no avail.

"God dammit! I need to know why he left! I need to know why I fucking care!" He turned his face up to the icy sky, the wind tearing at his face and his eyes watering from the bitter cold, and he let out an enraged howl, his voice shaking the very ground. "Usually the thoughts and ideas are rushing through my head but it's like someone is preventing it! I need to know. I need to sort this out or there won't be any sleep for the next few days." He turned slowly to a silent Piccolo, his eyes sharp and glowing. "And that means for both of us."

He made his way over to the rock again, but didn't sit. He stared at Piccolo's booted feet and moaned lightly.

"This is so stupid. Why should I even care if the baka left? I mean, did he care when I left? You know…died…against Frieza?"

"Yes."

"Shut it." But even this perturbed him. He sat on the rock at Piccolo's feet and put his head in his hands as his mind raced. The patient namek gave him time, knowing that his thoughts would come together. "I'm scared." He said finally said, and Piccolo leaned down more to hear him correctly.

Vegeta lifted his eyes so that he stared directly at his green friend. "It's the same way I felt after Cell. I'm the last saiyajin left…and what have I done for my people? Kakarotto has done more. But I don't feel jealous of him anymore. He was amazing and I never really told him that to his stupid, smiling face. I wish I could have just said….GOODBYE!"

Vegeta sprang from the rock, startling Piccolo and disturbing the dusty dirt on the winter ground. A wild fire burned in his black eyes and Vegeta clenched his fists. He appeared quite angry, yet very elated at the same time. His eyebrows lowered in concentration, yet his mouth was a relieved grin.

"I'm such a fucking idiot!" He slapped his tall forehead and let out an annoyed growl and then laughed. "I didn't go to the bastard's "funeral" or sendoff or whatever when he didn't come back because I was damn pissed at the time! But it's been eating at me ever since. I didn't say the things I wanted to say to him before he left. As much as I despised the idiot, he still deserved a sendoff from his prince. He was the first super-saiyajin, he at least defeated that fucker Frieza, he made me beat the hell out of myself for so many years just to surpass him (which I never did…asshole), and he still treated me like a goddamn friend! I was cruel to him, he laughed. I'd steal his food, punch him in the face, and teach him how to swear, and he'd just ask for more. That bastard! What the hell kind of saiyajin was he?"

Vegeta flared his energy, preparing to go to the stone made in Goku's honor after he went with the dragon.

"I need to tell him what a fucking asshole he is for ruining my life. I need to throw a tantrum right there on his mighty dirt just to show that I give a fuck that he is gone…and to show that he actually has my blessings. Kakarotto…I hate you my friend, and I'm coming to tell you this." Vegeta looked over his shoulder as his brilliant blue energy whipped around his body in the blackened night, casting an eerie glow on the skeletal trees surrounding them. His eyes softened and he gave Piccolo and gracious smile. "Good talk tonight. Thanks for listening."

And then the arrogant prince blasted into the chilling night sky, the blue tail of his energy lighting up the land like a brilliant comet. Slowly it faded in the distance as the once cruel prince went to speak to the remaining memory of the world's hero, Goku.

Piccolo folded up his arms and crossed his legs as the coldness engulfed him. Closing his eyes, the powerful namek tried to concentrate, but strangely his thoughts were here and there, wandering about abnormally. Cracking an eye open he sighed and shook his head. With so many thoughts in his head, he could really use somebody to talk to.

Damn Vegeta.

'Ok, that's it for this chapter. It might end here, it might not. We may never know! I never did a Tid Bit with Piccolo in it so I decided that one was needed. I sat down, typed it up and haven't gotten up once. I love writing like that! Anyway, I dedicate this chapter to Pitkat who is a big fan of "Tid Bits" and encouraged me to continue with this story. This ones for you!'