THE PRINCE OF ASH AND SNOW

by The Not-So-Super Saiyan

based off the web comic by Stupidoomdoodles

and inspired by the works of LadyVegeets

Content Warning: contains violence some language

CHAPTER FOUR: THE GOLDEN DRAGON

DECEMBER 25th

ChiChi threw the rag angrily into the wash bucket. She was going to kill Goku. He hadn't returned the night before and she had heard nothing since. It was nearly evening now. The restaurant had closed only five minutes ago. She was opening a box of takeout chopsticks that had arrived earlier that day when she heard the bell. She must have forgotten to lock the door. Damn.

"I'm sorry, we just closed." She said politely, switching on her hostess.

"Hey Chi." She recognized the voice. It was Krillin. She turned around.

"Oh, hi Krillin." She smiled warmly at him. "What are you doing here?"

He was twisting a bracelet around and around in his hands, nervously. His expression was solemn. ChiChi felt her heart flutter in her throat. Her mind began to race, it looked like Bulma's. Had something happened to Bulma? Oh, no.

"Krillin? What's going on?" a wave of panic washed over her. Something was wrong, very wrong. For the first time since he entered his eyes met hers, they were full of sorrow and regret.

"Chi, you better sit down. There is something I need to tell you."

No.

No.

No, no, no, no.

"Chi. I….I don't know how to tell you this." tears were welling up in his eyes. "Last night...at Kame House we were attacked. A man claiming to be Goku's brother came and he took Gohan. Goku and Piccolo, of all people, followed him. A fight ensued." Krillin swallowed hard. "Right now Gohan is presumed to be alive. We are looking for him now. We think he is either with Piccolo or on foot alone in the surrounding area. But, Chi...Goku. He was," Krillin broke her gaze, screwing his eyes shut. He couldn't look at her. "He was injured during the fight. He is still in surgery right now. I'm here to take you down to the hospital. We...we need to hurry."

"...no….n-no…." She whispered quietly, her shaking hands covering her mouth. Silent tears streamed down her face. Krillin slowly walked around the counter and wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm so sorry Chi." He whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Gohan felt cold water hiss and spray over him, burning and prickling his skin. He was thrown mercilessly into reality from the dreamless sleep he had been floating in. Gasping, he opened his eyes. He felt stiff and sore. Nothing around him was familiar, a dirty pink bathtub and a thin yellow trim lining the walls and a popcorn ceiling. Lights flickered about him. Where was he? His eyes rolled around sleepily.

"You been out for a day already. Wake up." he heard a deep voice bellow from outside the tub. He turned to see Piccolo standing in the entry to the bathroom, taking a drag off a cigarette.

Gohan was terrified. He wanted to be brave just like Baba or smart just like Mama. He wanted to ask questions. Why was he here? What happened to Baba? Who was this man and why were Gohan's clothes covered in blood? Was it blood? Where was Baba? He had just been here. He began to bawl.

"Shut the hell up." Piccolo responded forcefully. Gohan stopped himself, the tears still falling silently.

"Your dad is dead, kid. You gonna crash with me now."

Before he could register what he had just heard Piccolo tossed him a rough, scratchy towel and left the room. "Here, clean off."

Gohan used the bar soap and cold water to wash his clothes, he rang them out and hung them over the curtain rod with care. Stripped down to his underwear and wrapped in the towel, he ventured out of the bathroom. The small house smelled like mildew and cigarette smoke. It was beginning to give Gohan a headache but he was not about to tell this man that. He found the man lounging on the worn couch in the den smoking and watching television. Gohan stood silently at the edge of the couch watching him for a time.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed but his feet were beginning to feel sore. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Hello, mister, sir…" Gohan didn't even know who this man was.

"Piccolo." he responded tentatively. This kid was a strange one.

"Mr. Piccolo, sir, how did my father die?"

It looked as though Piccolo either hadn't heard him or simply wasn't going to respond. After a moment he leaned forward, put out his cigarette and turned off the television.

"Went down with the Ice Man." He leaned forward and spoke without looking at the child. Gohan thought for a moment, tears welling up in his eyes, he tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Did….did he die fast or did he hurt a lot?"

Piccolo trained his eyes forward. He couldn't look at the kid. Instead he hoisted himself off the couch and stood in front of Gohan. Piccolo could've rested his hand on top of the kid's head without lifting it at all. If he was gonna survive out here he was gonna need to toughen up. He tossed a fleece blanket to Gohan and nodded to the couch.

"Go to bed kid. It's late."

Gohan had so many questions. Hadn't he just woken up? Why did Mr. Piccolo want him to go to bed again? He was still sleepy. What was going to happen to Mama? When was he going to go home? Did she know where he was? What about Baba? He curled up on the worn out couch and cried. He cried until he slipped back into a dark, dreamless sleep.

DECEMBER 26th

Vegeta trailed his fingers along the back of Steven's neck, bringing the man back from the edge of unconsciousness and into a world of pure terror and pain.

"I just want you to know Steve, I'm very disappointed in you." Vegeta taunted him.

The small, frail man broke into snivelling cries, begging for his life. Vegeta grabbed the back of his hair and wrenched it back violently.

Steven felt the broad side of a cold blade trace the contours of his throat, twisting slightly - just enough to slice through the first layer of skin. Vegeta slowly walked around to face the man. He smiled down at him in the flickering light. He lifted the knife up to his lips and licked the blade clean of the blood dripping from it.

"Did you think you could just forget what you owe Frieza, Steven?"

The man shook his head, continuing to sob.

Vegeta leaned in and whispered in his ear "Did you think you could hide from me, Steven?" He stood above the man, a cruel smile twisting his face. "I'm going to enjoy this." He grabbed ahold of Steven's bloody face, ready to end the man's life in the twist of his arms. But something strange happened. In Steven's blue eyes he saw something. Something more than pure terror. He saw her and in that moment he thought of her and nothing else.

What would she think? What would she say? What would she feel? Would she be terrified of me? She would be so disappointed in me.

The echo of quiet whimpers brought Vegeta back to the cold, damp shed. He shook his head.

"You know what, Steven? I'm feeling generous tonight. I'm going to give you a second chance...but it's going to cost you."

Steven nodded as vigorously as he could. "O-oh...okay.."

"I'm going to break both of your legs, Steven and I'll be back for Frieza's money in a week."

Steven collapsed into blubbering thanks and praises.

"Don't thank me just yet."

Vegeta had gotten carried away. He refused to believe he was compensating for his mercy. But...that's exactly what had happened. He cursed as he trekked through the snow, nursing two split knuckles that had refused to stop bleeding. He had to take the long way home through the snow storm. He wasn't exactly inconspicuous, covered in a mix of his and Steven's blood. Steven had been generous enough to lend him his shirt, though. Vegeta wrapped his hand in the already bloody shirt and shoved it into the pocket of his hoodie.

He had managed to slip in and out of the shadows and make it all the way to his door without any incident. Unfortunately for him and his swollen hand, he wasn't quite fast enough.

He heard a door open behind him. Shit. Then the familiar melodious voice. "Vegeta. Hey."

He tried to slip into his apartment before she could make it to him but she was too damn fast. Literally skipping across the hall. He shoved his hand further in his pocket, looking up at her, his eyes filled with crazed ire.

She smiled at him. It was like honey dripping from a comb, glistening in the sun. He almost felt something begin to warm inside of him.

"What?" he hissed back at her.

"Oh." her face fell into a gentle pout of genuine concern. "Vegeta, are you alright?" Her hand reaching out for his shoulder.

He pulled away before she could reach him.

"I'm fine. What do you want?" He was clearly not fine. Even he could hear it in his own voice.

She looked genuinely worried now. "Oh I just needed your help with something but don't worry about it if you're busy I can probably take care of it...but...are you sure you're okay?"

What? What was happening? She was giving him an out and he was still standing there, now instead of glaring, his shoulders relaxing, he was just staring at her like a total moron. He rubbed his good hand over the back of his neck.

"Uh...what did you need?" It was almost inaudible.

Her face relaxed into an open smile, calm and delicate like still, cool waters. As he met her eyes he noticed they were red and swollen, like she had been crying. He felt an odd sensation in his chest.

"Well, I have to go down to the south end of West Side and I was hoping you would come with me. I'm just not so sure about going alone at night."

He absentmindedly pushed the door open and then remembered why his hand had been in his pocket in the first place. Pain shot up to his elbow, he inhaled sharply and let his head hit the door.

"Shit." he hissed hearing a small voice squeak behind him.

"I'm sorry. It's okay. Don't worry about it."

"What?" He turned around to face her. She was….what was she? Sad? Ashamed? Annoyed? Oh. He thought she was…"Oh. No. No. Blue. I...Look." He panicked and pulling the shirt from his fist he shoved his hand towards her. "I just...I gotta patch this up first and then we can go, okay?" The split, raw knuckles did not elicit the response he thought it would.

"Oh my god Vegeta. What happened? Let me see? Do you need me to take you to the hospital? You need to get stitches. I'll call a friend and they can drive us. Or we can use my bus pass to-"

"Woah...woah...Blue slow down." she stopped and looked at him wide-eyed. "No. No hospitals. I don't do hospitals. I have everything I need inside I just have to patch it up and then I'll take you to south end, okay?"

She nodded weakly. Tears welling up in her eyes, she still hadn't taken them off his shredded hand.

"Do...do you need help?"

He couldn't help it. He chuckled. "No. I'll meet you at your door in about an hour." She nodded hesitantly and they parted ways.

Bulma knocked on his door forty five minutes later. That hadn't been the plan, he should've known she couldn't wait a whole hour. Honestly, he was surprised he was surprised.

"Ommiiiinnnn" he muttered as he walked towards the door, pulling on the medical wrap with his teeth to tighten it. He was wearing the nicest shirt he owned. It was still nothing more than a black shirt, but it hugged his frame a little tighter, the neck scooped a little lower, and the fabric was a little softer. Plus, it was freakin' clean.

He opened the door and there she was. She was positively radiant. She was wearing a yellow dress with red tights and black boots, a deep blue scarf draped around her neck, some sort of grey knit sweater hung loosely around her small, curvy frame. She wasted no time pushing her way into the apartment and gently clasping his hand, her eyebrows knit in concern.

"How is your hand feeling? Are you okay? Are you sure you don't need to see a doctor?"

"Woah, Blue, slow down. Look. It's fine. Isn't even bleeding anymore." He smiled his crooked smile. Her heart fell in her chest, her knees weakened. She fought the urge to bite her lower lip. He held out his fist to her and flexed his fingers. "Now let's go."

Maybe if his hand had not been throbbing so much, maybe if he had not been so captivated by her radiant energy and her smell, like sarsaparilla and cinnamon - maybe he wouldn't have left his phone sitting on the bathroom counter amongst the wadded up bloody towels. Maybe he would've heard it vibrate repeatedly as he locked the door. Maybe.

They walked through the flurries in silence. It was the first time the two of them had been intentionally alone together. Bulma couldn't help but stare at him. His olive cheeks flushed in the frigid air. He wore what he always wore, a black shirt and the same pants. Today he wore black high-top Converse instead of his tactical boots though. He was wearing a scarlet wool bomber jacket. His eyes slowly shifted from the path in front of them.

Uh-oh. He noticed. Quick. Start a conversation. Oh. Ask him about his jacket. That's a good idea.

"I really like your jacket. I've never seen one quite like it. Where did you get it?"

Oh my goodness you sound so stupid what are you doing?

He inhaled the icy air sharply. It had been a long time since he had thought about that.

"Novosibirsk." he almost whispered.

He hadn't thought anything about the jacket when he put it on, but now that she asked, he could've sworn he could smell the stale musk of the warm chapel. He blinked, he had almost seen it there, out of the corner of his eye, golden luk, scarlet door, bustling traffic moving around it.

He did not need to think about Siberia, especially not now. He had been dropped off there in the dead of winter, though it wouldn't have mattered, it was always bitterly cold in Siberia. Frieza had given him no money, no credits, no documents, and no travel arrangements. Only the clothes on his back, which happened to be nothing more than a t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and some worn out sneakers.

And the jacket? It had happened in the dead of night. A drunk attacked him. The smell of alcohol strong on his breath and clothes. Vegeta probably would've run, he probably could have beat the man with his fists alone. But the man looked so warm and Vegeta was so very cold.

Vegeta had stabbed the man to death. He would never forget the look in his eyes as the life drained from his body into the ice and slush.

Maybe this wasn't so bad. Good idea, Bulma. Yes. Keep going.

"Where is Novo...isibirk?...Your jacket looks really fancy. How much was it?"

"Uh. Its in Siberia...I acquired it from an... acquaintance there. He...no longer needed it." He shifted uncomfortably, his mind winding through the alleys of Novosibirsk.

"Oh my god." Bulma leaned in uncomfortably close as they plodded through the slush. She narrowed her eyes and whispered loudly. Almost too loud to be a whisper.

"Did you kill him?"

Vegeta's eyes trained directly on the road in front of him. "I would tell you...but then I'd have to kill you."

She was trying to read his expression. His eyes darted sideways towards her. Oh. My. Goodness. Was he trying to joke? She burst into fits of giggles.

"You." She pushed him playfully, pushing herself backwards in the process and almost falling into a snowbank. His arm shot out of where it had been wrapped tightly around his body and wrapped itself firmly around her waist. He had pulled her in close, instinctually. They both froze. Staring at each other, sharing the same breath under the snowy twilight.

Slowly he loosened his grip on her waist and she stood the remainder of the way up.

God that was a close one.

Why was she so dizzy? She could feel her heartbeat in her fingers, she brushed her damp, blue tresses from her eyes. Vegeta was the first to break the silence this time, surprising them both.

"So Blue, where are we heading?" He pushed through the sudden bout of lightheadedness and looked away from her, focusing intently on the slushy sidewalk.

"To see a friend. her restaurant is down on 16th street."

Why did she seem so sad?

"16th?" he replied in disbelief. They were going to be walking for a while.

"I know. I buses are just so gross here and I thought it might be nice if we enjoyed ourselves while we are together. Not everything is about ruthless efficiency, you know?" She said it in a funny accent pointing her finger to the sky and shaking it.

"There is nothing wrong with being efficient." An awkward silence hung over them. Why did this all feel like it was all going to end so very, very badly?

"Vegeta, what do you do for fun?" she asked.

Quick. Think of something. Lie? No. Play it off. Be cool. Yeah.

"Work." he heard his own voice, he sounded defensive and embarrassed.

Smooth. Very smooth, player.

She was quiet for a short time thoughtfully nibbling on her lower lip.

He nodded once silently in response.

Anything to get away from this conversation.

They walked in relative quiet until they reached an ornate Oriental-styled building with golden Chinese dogs in the front. The sign atop the restaurant read "The Golden Dragon" and a small sign in the window flickered "CLOSED".

Vegeta held the door open and they entered. The sweet smell of citrus and vinegar drifted towards them as they walked into the warm restaurant. Traditional erhu music played through the crackling speakers in the ceiling. The floor was an old gaudy green carpet, a stark contrast to the beautiful front counter, made of immaculate marble and the dark, cherry wood fixtures. Bulma stepped forward and rang the small bell on the countertop three times.

A petite Chinese woman stepped out from behind the bar. She was composed and graceful. Her hair was cut straight across in the front and tied tightly in a bun at the top of her head, jade beads delicately swaying from the back of it as she walked. She wore an ornate red qipao, her small hands folded in front of her as she walked. When she saw them her face lit up. "Bulma! You made it!" She practically jumped on Bulma and buried her face in her neck. They were both silent for a moment. Vegeta waited. Watched. He had no idea what was going to happen. Then the woman began to sob.

"Bulma….Bulma…." Bulma rubbed the woman's back, squeezing her tight. Vegeta found their embrace very uncomfortable and awkward. What were they doing? He couldn't help but look away, shifting back and forth on his feet.

"Shhh….it's okay….Chi it's okay…...I'm here….."

"They took him….Krillin said they took him and we…..we can't...find him...and Goku...he….." the woman buried her face in Bulma's neck again "He came out of surgery only a few hours ago. They stabilized him for now but they don't know if it will….last. He hasn't woken up, they say they….aren't...sure….if..."

Vegeta was trying to piece together what was going on. When the woman opened her eyes and their gazes met. She froze, wiping her tears and pulling away from Bulma.

"Oh. Sorry Chi, this is Vegeta. He came here with me so I wouldn't have to travel alone. He's a good friend of mine."

Good friend, huh? That's a new one. Vegeta fought the urge to scoff.

"Why don't we all sit down?" The woman said with great composure, as if she hadn't just been falling to a thousand tiny pieces in Bulma's arms just moments before. She waved her hand gracefully to a booth with a round cherry wood table, the cushions were upholstered in green and red leather.

"Would you like anything to drink? Tea? Water?" Vegeta and Bulma both declined and they all sat down, Bulma and Vegeta sitting on one side, ChiChi on the other.

Bulma tenderly reached out and set her hands on top of ChiChi's. "Chi, we are going to find him. I promise. He is a strong boy and he's a smart boy. He's going to make it. I just know he will."

Boy?

So this wasn't a man they were talking about, it was a child. Something sour wiggled around in Vegeta's gut. ChiChi's composure broke, biting down on her lip she crumbled into sobs, her face resting on the back of her knuckles.

"What if...what if he's already dead? What if Goku never wakes up? They stabilized him but they won't tell me anything. I don't know if he's ever going to come back home." The word almost got caught in her throat on the way out.

Bulma began to cry with her.

Vegeta had no idea what to do. He had been uncomfortable with their embrace, now he was ready to crawl under the table. He really didn't know what was going on, or what was expected of him. Trying to piece the story together as best he could from the heaving sobs and broken sentences, he looked anywhere but at the two women.

A child, this woman's child had been taken, kidnapped. Someone else was in critical condition in the hospital. These people were her family. He didn't know how it happened or how they were related though.

Vegeta didn't really know anything about family either. He remembered very little of his own. He was not equipped for this. He just sat there looking at his hands, trying to listen to what was going on, not knowing how to respond to any of it or if he should at all. Bulma slammed her fist on the table, pulling him out of his own mind and his focus.

"It's so stupid that no one is doing anything to get him back. The cops in this city are so useless. If Goku wasn't in the hospital, he'd march right over there and kill that guy himself."

Vegeta was now even more confused. So they knew who had kidnapped the kid What the hell was going on here? If this was about a ransom, now that was something Vegeta had experience with. If someone important took the kid he would know them and how to find them.

ChiChi shook her head sullenly "There's nothing we can do Bulma. You're no fighter and even at my peak I'm not a match for these people. After what they did to Goku I'm not sure any of us stand a chance. And this Piccolo guy. No one knows anything, and that's assuming he is the one who took Gohan. It could very well have been one of those 'Ice Men'. We have no idea. We just have to hope that Gohan can escape or that Goku can get better and...and go after him." She fell back into her sobs letting her emotions wash over her.

Huh. Piccolo the "Demon King." Big Fish, Little Pond. King of the South End. The most infamous thug in West City. He used to run all of West Side until one of the Z Fighters had whipped him into the south end. This was part of where they got their reputation from. Since then he swore he'd kill every last one of them and their families. It wasn't exactly a secret.

The Z Fighter were a loose group of karate bums that fought off threats who tried to terrorize the city. Vigilante justice type bullshit. Fight for the greater good junk. There were probably only like five or six of those guys.

Vegeta knew almost everything there was to know about the big players in West City. He knew the big players in every city he had ever set up in.

Finally, there were the Ice Men. The Ice Men weren't West City natives. They were everywhere. They operated in the shadows, torturing and killing those who crossed their master. Obedient dogs, ruthless killers. The Ice Men had a foothold in every major city across the entire world. They would appear out of nowhere and disappear as suddenly as they had arrived, just long enough to strike fear into the hearts of every person they left alive. Vegeta was the best, the most ruthless, and the most notorious of them all. None of these small fish were ever of any real concern to Frieza or the Ice Men, though Vegeta and his team had been briefed on the Z Fighters upon their arrival. They were to monitor the street gang and snuff them out if they got too powerful. Reconnaissance was Raditz's job though, and Vegeta himself knew few details about the Z Fighters. Raditz had been on recon when we went AWOL. He would have to ask Raditz more about them when he finally showed back up again. All Vegeta knew was they had a strange alliance with powerful players and that what a problem. A big problem. But so far, Frieza had seen fit to leave them be. Vegeta was certain that would not always be the case.

Drumming his fingers on the table absentmindedly, he became keenly aware of the heavy silence penetrated only by and the string music floating through the air. The two women stared at him.

Shit. What did he miss?

"Hmm?" was all that came out of his mouth.

ChiChi sniffled and spoke with a motherly tenderness, though she didn't seem to be much older than him. "Oh, I just wanted to know if you'd like a Tsingtao."

"Oh, yeah. Sure." Grumbling and looking away. He felt more awkward than he had before.

ChiChi excused herself and came back with three cold bottles of beer. They were all silent for a time. The silence was thick and heavy. This whole thing wasn't sitting right with Vegeta. It was making him think of things he hadn't in a long time. He would've preferred they had stayed in the back of his mind, buried in layers of ash and snow.

"Krillin says he might even be with whoever that man was working for. Freezer, or something. Another one of these Ice Men, he called them. But when I asked about them he wouldn't tell me anything."

Vegeta nearly choked on the sour swallow of beer in his mouth. They looked at him questioningly.

"Ice Men?" he coughed quietly.

Uh oh. Uuhhhh ooooohh. This was bad. Very bad.

Bulma stepped in to explain. "Yeah, they are like hit men or something. The man who did all of this was apparently one of them. Krillin said he probably worked with this other guy 'The Prince'." Looking to Vegeta, Bulma's face twisted in utter disgust. "He's a monster, Vegeta."

He suddenly felt sick. He fought the urge to push the beer away, the smell making him more nauseous.

Yeah, he is.

"What did this guy want with you anyways?" he questioned as casually as he could. It was hard for him to imagine Frieza ordering a hit on someone like Bulma.

"He claimed to be Goku's brother; called him Carrot Top or something and when Goku told him he wasn't the same guy he lost it he took Gohan, Goku and ChiChi's son, and ran off."

Carrot Top?...Kakarrot. Holy shit. Raditz.

"The Ice Men don't have him." the words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them.

Shit.

Bulma eyes widened, the two women leaning in intently and waiting for an explanation.

"How do you know?" she finally questioned.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"I just do. I make it my business to know things like that."

Vague and suspicious as fuck. Good job, genius. Quick. Fix it.

"They don't kidnap children."

Not entirely true. Hello? You. Digging the hole deeper, moron.

"He won't be that hard to find."

….Fuck.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. What was wrong with him? Why did she have this effect on him? Before he knew what was going on he heard the words escaping his mouth.

"How long?"

Stop talking. Just stop.

"Excuse me?" ChiChi and Bulma shared a look of surprise. Vegeta seemed as though he was looking past them, like he was seeing something else entirely.

"How long has the child been missing?"

"Oh." The two of them looked at each other, exchanging the same surprised expression. ChiChi cautiously continued "It's been more than a day now."

"I need to know how many hours."

"Oh...uh, let's see...mmm..Twenty seven, now. Why?" Vegeta took another swig of his beer.

"How old?" his voice was dark and flat, entirely empty, hiding the rising tide of emotions beneath it.

"He's only seven." ChiChi's voice cracking as she spoke. Vegeta winced. He tried to keep it hidden but they saw it. It ignited that part of him. That part that died all of those years ago. Burned alive in the fire. He turned to her and looked her directly in the eyes with a piercing ferocity.

"ChiChi, I am going to ask you some questions. You will answer as honestly as possible and to the best of your ability. If you lie I will know. Some of these questions may sound strange. Answer them anyways. Do you understand me?"

Bulma looked at the familiar face but saw a man she did not recognize. ChiChi was taken aback. She nodded.

"Oh...okay. Yes."

"I need a paper and a pencil." Bulma didn't respond but quickly turned to her purse and rummaged around until she found a chewed up pencil and a small notepad. Flipping to a blank page and smoothing down the crackling pages, she passed it to him and took a deep drink of her beer. She was going to need it.

Vegeta began his interrogation of ChiChi. Asking all sorts of questions. Some seemed relevant. Some did not. Everything from "What school does he attend?" to questions like "When was the last time you saw him?" to "Is there anything special that the two of you say to each other or do? Something only you would do?"

ChiChi answered all of his questions and Vegeta scribbled furiously on the pad of paper. Bulma finished her first beer and ChiChi had silently passed hers to her friend. Bulma accepted without a word and polished it off quickly. She went behind the counter for a third. She walked past Vegeta, he had only written down a few things and it just looked like swirlies or something.

"Vegeta. What, does that even say?" she tapped the paper with a slight lack of coordination. Her inability to hold her alcohol showing. She had only had two beers. He looked up at her with a crooked eyebrow. He saw her face then smiled that devilish smile.

What the hell did he think was so funny?

"It's... shorthand so nosy little shits like you can't read my notes." He lifted her fingers off the paper. She hadn't even realised they were still on it.

"Oh. That's pretty smart." She plopped back down in the booth and nursed her third bottle of Tsingtao. ChiChi and Vegeta continued to talk. The spoke long after Bulma had fallen asleep on the table.

Bulma woke up to ChiChi handing Vegeta a photograph. She heard his voice grow hoarse. "Know this, I cannot promise anything to you. But I will try to get your son back."

ChiChi pulled tighter on the strings of her composure, pushing violently back against the tears that stung her eyes and nose.

"I don't have a lot to offer you. This restaurant was my father's whole fortune and it was my entire inheritance. All we have is Gohan's college fund but I'd be more than-"

"I don't want your money."

He could not believe what he was doing. What the HELL was he doing? What was he thinking? He didn't feel anything for the kid, right? He didn't even know the kid. So what was he doing?

He was diving straight into the deep end of Shit River.

Bulma reached out and put her hand on his scarred forearm, her mop of tresses still firmly planted on the glossy, wooden table. "Time for bed, tough guy." He smirked at her then looked back at ChiChi.

"I better take Bulma home." He stood and folded the picture of Gohan and his tiny page of scratch notes, putting them in the back of his wallet. "I will be in touch."

Bulma felt a rush of icy wind on her face, she turned away and into something solid and warm. She nuzzled into it. Mmmm, it smelled so good. What was that smell? Cedarwood? Yeah, it smelled kind of like cedarwood and iodine. Hmm. Odd combination. She rubbed her face into the fabric letting the back of her hair take the brunt of the cold.

Even though the night air was frigid, she was oddly comfortable. She fell peacefully into the rhythm that rocked her back and forth. Motion of what? She lifted her heavy head and opened her sleepy eyes. There he was, bathed in yellow light. He looked on, an odd expression of consternation on his face. He was...carrying her? She buried her face in his chest. She never wanted this moment to end.

That's when they stopped moving. She lifted her gaze. They were getting on the bus. He carried her to the back and cradled her, leaning against the corner, resting his head against the cold metal handrails. She stirred. "Mmmm."

"Shh. Go back to sleep. We're on the bus, heading home."

She fished sleepily in her pockets and clumsily pulled out her phone squinting against it's bright light in the darkness. She awkwardly plugged a pair of headphones into the phone, putting one in her ear and handing the other to Vegeta without a word.

He hesitated but accepted it. She started a playlist and then snuggled back into him, breathing him in.

He gingerly accepted the headphone. He had a pair he used as a surveillance tool but he had never actually used them for listening to music. Her music was soft and gentle. Sweet, like her. He listened intently to the song float through the headphone

"We'll do it all. Everything. On our own."

Is this what life was like? Is this what he had been missing? He rubbed his hand back and forth on her back. It didn't make any sense. Why should sitting next to another person do this to him? None of this made any sense. He supposed it didn't have to. At least not now. He slumped back into the seat of the bus, closed his eyes, and tasted the moment.

When he was sure she was asleep he lifted up the phone. There were so many little images on the display he wasn't sure how to work it exactly. He had never used a phone like it before. But he recognized the 'back' and 'forward' buttons from Nappa's car radio. He toggled cautiously back to the beginning of the first song to listen again, playing it over and over until the bus had stopped. There was something about it, about this moment. He didn't want it to end. He closed his eyes again and rested his face gently in her mess of blue hair.

"If I lay here, if I just lay here. Would you lie with me and just forget the world?"

Vegeta checked her phone when they arrived at the bus stop down the street from their complex. 3:17 am.

Shit.

He rolled his neck and straightened his back. She was still asleep. He pulled out the headphones and wrapped them up tight, putting them back in her pocket along with her phone. He gently lifted her and carried her back up to her apartment. Shifting her in his arms, he dug her keys out of her purse. It wasn't hard, they were covered in bobbles and useless keychains.

Hmm. Sentimental. It was very...Bulma. He unlocked her door and brought her inside. Locating her bed, he flicked her closet light on with his elbow and set her down gently on top of the blankets. Timidly, he removed her shoes and placed a blanket on top of her.

He watched her for a short time. She looked so incredibly peaceful that she almost looked dead. He would have given anything to feel peace like that. How did she do it? For for a moment, just a moment he thought of what life might have been like…

He moaned, running his hands over his face. He turned to leave when he heard a quiet whine from the bed.

"Wait." she could barely keep her eyes open as she felt for him.

"Go to sleep Blue. You need to sleep off your night of binge drinking." He taunted her.

"Please, don't go." Something caught his eye, a glimmer of yellow light from the closet that bathed her face. Tears dripped down from her closed eyes, speckling her eyelashes, like constellations. They rolled gently across the bridge of her nose and pooled in her hair, dampening the pillowcase.

"Blue, I," his voice broke "I can't stay."

"Please, Vegeta." her whisper barely escaped her rosy lips, her fingers brushed gently against his. He didn't respond, just brushed her hair from her face, leaned in close and gently pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes, breathing her in. He didn't want to feel anything but this very moment. He could feel her moving her head. She leaned in and tenderly touched her parted lips to his. There it went again, like a dying bird in his chest struggling to fly away, tethered to the ground. Struggling for life.

He wanted to stay there in that moment forever. Where everything else melted away and nothing else mattered. But he knew he couldn't, he felt a crackling sickness drip from the back of his mind and spread through his body, so instead he pulled away. Slowly, her fingers fell from his as her eyebrows relaxed and her breathing slowed. He lifted his hand from her face and turned to leave.

"Good night Bulma." he whispered as he disappeared into the darkness.

He was tethered to that bird, the bird that was struggling for life. It was still there back in her apartment. Caged by the side of her bed and he could feel it threatening to burst out of his chest. He reached his door, pushing his key into the lock he felt it swing open before he had even turned the key.

It was as if someone had dumped cold water on his head.

He pulled the gun swiftly out from the back of his jeans, flicking off the safety. He pushed the door open, gun trained. Nappa was sitting on his couch, he jumped to his feet, hands in the air.

"Nappa. What the hell are you doing here?" There was poison dripping from Vegeta's words. He was getting tired of the games and really tired of Nappa. If Nappa thought he could just waltz in and out whenever he wanted he was wrong.

"Me? Where the hell were you? We had a job to do."

"Since when?"

"Since earlier today. I noticed you neglected to take this with you on your little play date." he tossed Vegeta his phone. Vegeta caught it with one hand, gun in the other. He slid the phone down in his pocket and placed his hand back on the gun.

"For God's sake Geets put the damn gun down."

He made no move to lower his gun.

"I'll give you three seconds to get out of here Nappa before I blow your brains out."

"God. What crawled up your pussy and died? Look, I'm just trying to look out for you, man. Raditz is dead. Got his fucking head blown off looking for his brother. And...you're slippin'. You better get it together before Frieza catches wind or someone is going to have to pay for your mistakes." with that Nappa snatched up his jacket and left.

That night Vegeta dreamt of Bulma, her ocean eyes and honey lips, and of cold marble and cold, clammy hands.

Special thanks to Hanko and Cindermane for being my valiant copy-editors and sounding board. Praises be to Stupidoomdoodles and LadyVegeets for inspiring this fic.

I welcome comments so let me know what you think!

xoxo, the Not-So-Super Saiyan.