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

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE SMOKE IN YOUR EYES

Content Warning: brief violence

JANUARY 3rd

ChiChi buried her face in the rough cotton sheet. She traced her fingers along the edges of the fabric counting the large, ugly stitches that turned the corners of the seams. Breathing in deeply, she felt the warmth of his body. He was so close to her yet so far out of reach. The ambience of the hospital room had become so familiar to her. In a way, this gaudy arm chair by the side of the bed had become her new home. She hated it.

There were no tears left to cry. She felt like a dry weed, dead but rooted to the Earth, unable to blow away in the wind. There she was tethered to the hospital, rooted to him, with only a hollow numbness that reverberated through her. She had spent so much time grieving. Her bones felt brittle. In a sense she was the last one alive. All she wanted to do was crawl into Goku's arms and slip into the darkness that held him.

Instead she continued to breathe. She breathed in the flickering, humming fluorescent lights, the sterile stench of plastics and antiseptic, the sound of the machinery that tied her husband's body to life. She would stumble on until she couldn't anymore, she had to. Gently turning his hand over she nuzzled into his rough palm.

That night she dreamt of his touch, his smile, and his laugh. She could've sworn she felt his thumb softly rubbing her cheek.

JANUARY 5th

Vegeta let the hot water trickle down his body, feeling it run over his stiff muscles and numb them. He turned it up until it stung his skin, then pressed his forehead to the cold tiles of the shower wall. He wasn't used to this feeling. Not at all. He had spent so much time working himself into knots, trying to figure out why Bulma had spent so much time with him, talking to him, trying to befriend him and now this. What were her motives? What was her angle? What was she after? To offer to have coffee with someone was one thing but to stay with them, to hold them while they bled to death and nurse them back to health was another matter entirely. It was a feeling he was unfamiliar with.

Vegeta was used to having all of his serious wounds treated back where ever headquarters was set up at the time. But it wasn't a favor, it wasn't an act of kindness, it was merely an investment. Vegeta was a valuable asset to the Cold Family. He represented a lot of time and money. It was important to them that his basic needs be met. He couldn't perform if they weren't. Somehow though, Bulma was different from anyone he had ever met. He wasn't an investment to her. He didn't chase down people who owed her money and threaten them. He didn't kill for her (though he gladly would if she had asked him to), steal for her, or shark for her. Nothing. He did nothing for her. She did what she did and asked nothing of him in return. Vegeta could not, for the life of him, understand why.

He felt indebted to her, in a way he had never felt to anyone or anything before. But how do you settle a debt like that? What did he have to offer her? His pent up frustration got the best of him, his fist colliding with the shower tiles. He looked down at his hands. They were ugly hands. Bent and misshapen from constant breaks and from thick calluses that covered his knuckles and joints. Scarred and bruised. This was it. This was the summation of his life. His whole person was in these hands and what they could do.

And that's when the idea came to him. But it would have to wait. He had work to finish first.

JANUARY 5th

Gohan shifted awkwardly against the frosty brick wall. He was trying very hard to do what Mr. Piccolo had asked of him but he wasn't quite sure he understood the exercise. Mr. Piccolo said they were "people watching". They had been there for a very long time now, Gohan's toes were beginning to feel numb. Every once in awhile Mr. Piccolo would say something like "Okay, kid. Find the man with the gun." It was a game of 'I, Spy' but Gohan never seemed to have the right answer. He still had yet to find the most recent person. Supposedly some "pharmacist". When Gohan had asked about it Mr. Piccolo only said "Someone who sells drugs, kid."

He tried hard to find the man or woman in question but he was cold, hungry, and confused. He looked back to Mr. Piccolo who watched the people passing by smoking thoughtfully.

Piccolo felt the boy's eyes on him but refused to acknowledge his gaze. The kid needed to work harder if he was going to make it out here. He shifted against the wall, lifting his foot and propping it up against the bricks.

"You know, that's going to kill you one day." The small boy said thoughtfully, looking up at Piccolo with wide eyes.

He sighed, placing a hand on the kid's head and turning it back towards the bustling crowd of shoppers.

This kid. Fucking know-it-all.

Bulma heard a knock on her door and nearly flung her laptop off her folded legs and onto the floor. No one ever knocked on her door. She wasn't expecting a delivery and her friends always called. They were always gathering either at Kame House or The Golden Dragon. She was suddenly very afraid.

Maybe they will just... go away?

She was actually making progress for once and everything had been derailed in a matter of moments by the sound of a knock. The harsh rapid knocking began again after a few moments. Whoever they were, they were not going to give up. She cautiously padded over to the door and peered out the peephole as if it might bite her. She dropped the sheet of encrypted data on the floor, shaking hands reaching for the lock. It was Vegeta.

He shouldn't even be out of bed. Why was he here? Was something wrong? She threw the door open before unhooking the chain nearly smacking herself in the face. He looked surprised. He didn't often look surprised.

She stood there staring at him breathlessly.

"Bulma…" He looked her in the eyes and didn't look away. She thought her knees would give out from under her. He had called her Bulma. For a while she wasn't sure if he had even known what her name really was. She realised he was waiting for her to respond.

"Vegeta, you're walking already. How are you feeling?"

Like total shit. Shouldn't be walking and definitely shouldn't have gone to the gym. How about you?

There it was. That smile. He was just not going to answer that question.

"Yeah. I'm a tough guy." he smirked and patted his side. It hurt like hell.

They stood there for a time, eyes locked. The only sound was the simmering sauce on the stove. He realised he needed to say something, he was suddenly very unsure of himself. He rubbed his sweaty palms together and pulled the envelope from his jacket. It was all he had, might as well go for it. What's the worst that could happen, right?

"Here I, uh, wanted you to have this?" He handed her the note awkwardly and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. He hoped she hadn't noticed.

"Oh." She was surprised that he had handed her anything. She was missing a golden opportunity if she didn't tease him. And Bulma rarely passed up an opportunity. "A love note, and all I had to do was save your life to get one." She winked at him and opened it.

It was a black, thick piece of linen parchment. There was nothing on the paper but a large, silver embossed symbol. It looked familiar. Where had she seen it before?

"What is this?" She asked, entranced as she traced her fingers along the silver inlays.

"It's an official sign. You put that in your window and you'll be safe from anyone in this city."

"Is this..." she felt a lump rise in her throat. "Is this the symbol of the people you work for? The ones who sent you on that suicide mission?"

Uh. Oh.

"Yeah. Why? What's wrong?" before he could finish his thought he felt her small, soft hand connect with his face as she slapped him as hard as she could. He stumbled backwards.

"What the hell?" his hand on his cheek, he was more surprised than anything. She really wasn't all that strong. But this was not what he expected and it was definitely not the reaction he had hoped for. She had begun to sob.

"You know what? Fuck you." She was screaming now. "Fuck you. You damned insensitive moron." and with that he felt a rush of cool air as the door was slammed in his face.

Hmm. Well that just happened. Wait. What the Hell. Just. Happened?

This had definitely not gone according to plan. It was nice to have played pretend like he was a normal person for a while but his reality had caught up with him. He knew sooner or later he would ruin things and it looked like sooner.

He told himself he should go home but he didn't move. For a time he just stood there. Frozen. He patted his hands on his sides and rocked back and forth on his heels. What the hell was he going to do now? It was time for Plan B but there was no Plan B. So he just stood there and listened. He listened to her stomp around her apartment and listened as she weeped.

Shit.

Before he could stop himself he found himself talking through the door. "I don't understand. I was being the nicest I've ever been to anyone in my entire life and you treat me like I killed your entire goddamn family." He started off good. Then it was just okay and by the end he found he was yelling.

He heard the pounding stomps of her footsteps as she came closer. From the sound of her voice she was smashing her face into the door.

"Oh please. Like you don't know what you did." her voice was venomous.

No. That was the point. He didn't know what he had done. He was irritated now.

"What the hell are you even talking about? I offered you the best protection you could ever dream of from the largest, most feared mob in the entire world. Why are you acting like this?"

He heard nothing. Then he heard the deadbolt. She flung the door open and then slammed it closed again. Black makeup was running down her face. She stood directly in front of him now fire in her eyes. He thought she might slap him again.

"And imagine how I feel getting dirty protection from the monsters who keep sending you into death traps and did this to you?" she gestured to his body with a sweeping motion. "And here you are still supporting them after all of that. After I sat there for four days and cried over your dying body like a dumbass." She was shouting, her voice breaking as the tears ran down her face. She gestured wildly to the door, blood still stained the whitewash even though Bulma had tried her best to scrub it out. The carpet was stained a dark brown.

He felt something. Something gross. He didn't like it. "I think I get it now." was all he managed to say.

Wrong answer.

"You think? You. Think. No. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe you don't." she yelled as her eyes grew desperate. She shook her head and scoffed, her shoulders falling. "You know what? Just get out of here, Vegeta." and with that she turned and slammed the door one final time, locking it behind her.

Chichi fell asleep still clutching the framed photograph and her cell phone. Just in case anyone were to call. This had become her life. She visited Goku in the mornings before she opened and at night after she closed. The doctors said he was improving but they still didn't know if he would ever wake up. Everyday they asked her the same question. If she was ready to say goodbye.

No. She wasn't.

Of course she wasn't. If he had really been improving like they said then they wouldn't keep asking her if she was going to put herself through this every single day. She wouldn't hear the nurses whisper and sigh in pity behind her back saying things like "One day she'll just stop coming. They always do." But they had never met Chichi. They didn't know her and they didn't know Goku. He was going to survive. She just knew he was.

She woke with a start to the sound of rapid knocking on the screen door. Her heart raced in her throat. She grabbed her sword. A weight old and familiar, but rusty in her hands. Her son and her husband had been taken from her. No one was going to just show up unannounced like this. Whoever it was they were in for a surprise. She wasn't going down without a fight.

She snuck to the door with her sword by her side. The rapid knocks began again. She waited and flung the door open to see a slender young man standing on the porch panting and leaning against the door frame. It was Bulma's friend from the restaurant.

She flung the screen door open.

"Nice piece." He smirked, nodding to the sword in her hand.

She almost smiled. "Uh. Please, come in." Vegeta took one more scan of the area and slipped inside.

Chichi set the reheated Chinese food on the table in front of him. "I'm sorry it's not fresh. It's from earlier today."

Vegeta shook his head and politely inhaled the food she had set in front of him. She sat patiently across from him. He looked like a hungry child. Ready for someone to strike him or take away his meal. Something inside her ached for him.

When he finished he set the fork gingerly on the plate and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Thank you. I have news for you."

She held her breath.

"It took longer than I anticipated. I was…" he searched for the right word. "detained."

Shot. You were freakin' shot.

"I was able to get a message to your son."

She told herself she would wait patiently for him to finish but she couldn't help herself. She found the words jumping from her mouth along with the fresh, hot tears spilling from her eyes.

"Gohan is alive? You saw him?"

"I did better than that. I spoke to him. I found him at a boxing gym down on 9th and Belmont."

What was he doing all the way down there?

"He is with Piccolo, also known as the Demon King. I spoke with him for a time. He told me he was well and that Piccolo had taken him on your husband's request that he protect him. I told him I would return him to you. He declined my offer."

Her heart sank. She found herself sobbing. She tried to stop it but she just couldn't. She was going to lose Goku and now she was going to lose Gohan too. "Please...tell him that I love him."

He continued to stare at her, his dark eyes intent and piercing.

"Mrs. Son you can tell him yourself." His voice was calm and patient. "He will rendezvous with you in two days. He said that he and Piccolo would be at Kame House. I assume that you know where that is?"

She nodded vigorously.

"Alright. I convinced him the danger the two of them face is far greater on their own than with the rest of the Z Fighters. For the time being, all of you should lie low."

Z Fighters? But. How did he know? He must have seen the confused look on her face. He smirked.

"I told you Mrs. Son, I'm very good at what I do." He stood to leave, holding his abdomen cautiously. "Remember. Kame House. Two days. Now if you'll excuse me I need to go." He carefully stood, nearly dropping back into the chair. He made his way to the door moving stiff and slow.

ChiChi thanked him profusely and told him she would never forget what he had done and that one day she would pay him back. He nodded and slipped into the shadows.

JANUARY 7th

The sound of a hum gently drew ChiChi from the inky dreamless sleep that held her. She felt the weight of a large hand pressing down on the back of her head.

She looked around the room for the source of the voice, but they were alone. Lifting up her head she heard it again and her heart stopped. It came from Goku. His dark eyes flickered open ever so slightly to meet hers and she felt the sinews of her fortitude snap, but this time not from the exhaustive battle of every day or from overwhelming grief that drowned her...no from a pure happiness and relief she had never before felt.

"Mmmmm….Chi…..you smell like noodles."

She broke into sobs and fits of laughter and she threw herself back into his lap, squeezing him as tightly as she could.

Vegeta had finally fallen into a rough and restless sleep. He thought of Bulma, he thought of Gohan, he thought of ChiChi, he thought of Nappa. He woke suddenly as a scream pierced the air. That voice. He knew that voice.

Bulma. "Bulma?" oh no.

He shot up faster than he should have, instinctually pulling the gun from underneath the lumpy pillow bunched underneath his head and clicking off the safety, adrenaline oozing over the pain that stabbed through his abdomen and into his arms.

He was functioning purely on instinct now. Before he knew it he was out his door and at hers, he slammed the back of his shoulder blade into the weak point of the door, busting it off its hinges and open with a loud, splintering CRACK. He slid through the door, his gun aimed into the darkness.

"Ve-Vegeta?" Bulma stood in nothing but a lace tank top and a dainty pair of striped panties. She was holding her broom above her head like a baseball bat.

He swooped her behind him into the crook of the corner and aimed his gun at the open room. "Where are they?" his eyes traced the contours of the shadows of the room like an expert hunter. Patient but swift. He watched her shaking finger point down to the opposite corner of the kitchen.

"It's...it's a mouse." she replied sheepishly. She watched his shoulders drop slowly and his head turn, expressionless. He blinked slowly.

"What?" He heard her but it was not computing. A mouse?

"There's a mouse in my kitchen." She nearly shrieked pointing at the small creature in the opposite corner of the linoleum floor. It sat unafraid, cleaning it's whiskers.

"Oh." was all he was able to muster as he stared at the tiny grey fluff.

"You...you broke my door." Bulma proclaimed with shock in her voice.

"...I did." he muttered looking back at the splintered door moaning on its hinges.

"And...And you brought a gun?" she asked with added exasperation.

"Yeah." he suddenly felt totally unprepared for everything that was happening. She had screamed and he had reacted and this is where it got him.

"You friggin insane asshole." She was sobbing now as she began to beat on his chest with her fists. "You're not supposed to react like this." She screamed. "No one reacts like this. What the hell is wrong with you?" He wasn't sure what to do. He stood there awkwardly. All of his training had prepared him to protect her but nothing had prepared him for a reaction like this. He held his gun gingerly in one hand.

"I….I'm sorry?" he whispered to her. He was absolutely unsure about whether or not it was the right thing to say but it was his last resort. She had balled her fists up in his shirt and was crying into his chest..

"I'm sorry too." she cried as she nestled her face deeper into his chest. He felt his heartbeat thicken. Without warning she threw her arms around him and nuzzled her face into his neck. What? What was she doing? He was so confused. So confused by all of this. He cautiously lifted his arms and wrapped them around her. The warmth that lit somewhere between their bodies was so remarkable. He found himself melting into her arms, pulling her closer and breathing her in. She smelled like sweet earth and spices. They melted together for what felt like eternity until he finally broke the silence.

"...you screamed that loud over a mouse?"

She made no move to break their embrace. "Oh shut up, Vegeta."

When she finally pulled away she felt something odd. She was wet. She lifted her arms. The intricate white lace of her tank top was splotched with pink and red streaks. Vegeta saw it too.

Downplay it. It's fine.

"Blue...I... I'll get you a new shirt."

She looked at him like he was insane. "Are you kidding me? You think this is about the shirt? You're still bleeding Vegeta. It's almost been a week. Let me see it."

That worked well.

"I'm fine." He replied gruffly without opening his eyes, but he wasn't fine at all. Not unless her room had begun to spin on it's own.

Vegeta was most definitely absolutely not fine. He knew that...and she knew it too.

"Please Vegeta, let me look at it."

She was peering into him with those beautiful blue eyes. They held the skies and the stars themselves. Damn her. He told himself he wasn't going to give into her this time, he found his hand moving away from his bandaged abdomen. It felt moist and with every motion, no matter how small he felt like a dead tree threatening to topple in the wind. Uh-oh. Maybe she had a point. He looked down at his dressings. They were slowly seeping, transitioning from a stark white into a dark pink. He had pushed it too hard too fast.

Shit.

She looked way more worried than she should be. It was just leaking a little. Had she never seen a bullet wound before? Wait. No, she probably hadn't.

Quick, she's starting to cry. Say something to make her feel better.

"It's….it's not a big deal. It's just a little blood."

Wrong answer.

Her face twisted into an expression he couldn't quite read. He wasn't sure if she was angry or horrified.

She was both. Definitely both.

"You listen here mister, I know you think that you are invincible, but you are not." her voice quivered. "You let me look at it right now or I swear I will call Launch to come and help me."

Shit. That was not going to work. He needed to stay away from that psychotic Crane until he could at least stand. His eyes narrowed.

"Do you want to die?" she blurted out in anxious desperation.

He didn't miss a beat. "Always, Blue."

"This isn't a joke, Vegeta." She screamed . "Apparently I'm the only one that cares about you. You don't even give a damn. You almost died and you act like you couldn't care less."

She pushed him over to the couch and sat him down. He sat reluctantly, gun still in his hand. Everyone just needed to stop making a big deal out of it. He'd been in worse shape before and he had the scars to prove it. But he let her go, let her pace, and when she finally sat next to him he spoke. "Look Blue, this isn't the first time I've been shot, it's not the first time I've almost died either. It really isn't a big deal. It just needs time to seal back up. I just got up a little too fast and a little too hard. I heard you scream and I…"

She grinned mischievously. "You were worried about me?"

"Well….yes. No. ...I-." Yes. He was. He had been terrified.

"Don't feel bad. I worry about you too." She began to dig around the kitchen looking for the bag Launch had left. He knew where it was...on his kitchen counter next to his plant. If he was lucky she wouldn't-

"Wait." She whipped around pointing at him. "They're at your place." She padded over to him, the gentle sway of her hips made him uneasy. She grabbed him by the wrist with both hands and pulled as hard as she could, yanking him off the couch. "Come on, comrade, let's go." She saluted and began to march towards the door stopping momentarily at the table to grab a bag that sat on the edge and carelessly scoop the contents of the dining table into the bag. He swallowed hard, watching the ceiling. She was still wearing nothing but panties.

"Bulma...don't you wanna…"

She stopped at the door, looking confused. Apparently, she didn't mind nearly as much as he did. She didn't even seem to notice the lack of pants.

"What? We don't have all night, slowpoke." Placing her hands on her bare hips and leaning forward playfully. He felt odd, like something in his stomach was twisting and turning, trying to crawl out of his body.

"Y-yeah." he scoffed and trudged after her.

He set the grocery bag down on the floor at their feet as if it might bite him, then leaned back on the couch carefully. He had brought two beers with him. He didn't drink, but she didn't know that. He wasn't quite sure why he had bought them. One night, when it was so late the sun had almost risen, he had dropped by the mini-mart to stock up and saw them. It reminded him of that night, leaning against the door, talking to her about useless, nonsense. And he bought them. They had remained in his fridge untouched since then. Bulma snuggled up to his arm carefully, smiling up at him.

"Vegeta, I have a question for you." she slowly leaned her head onto his shoulder. His skin was so warm. He smelled like musky Earth and antiseptic.

"I probably won't answer but I can't stop you from asking." He took a swig of his drink and adjusted his arm so it hung over the back of the couch. He had just left this couch and now he was back. It was odd that she was here. Very odd. It felt odd. He needed to think about it. Or not, he could just not.

She smiled at his response. "I appreciate that you were worried about me but...what made you think it was a good idea to bust into my apartment with a gun?"

Oh boy.

"I wasn't..."

"What?"

"I wasn't thinking. I heard you scream and I just reacted." he was suddenly embarrassed, his face felt hot, he took another drink to avoid having to speak again.

"Oh….I guess, it's just a surprising reaction."

It wasn't though. That seemed to be the problem. He had spent all of his life training to be a fine-tuned machine and he was just that. Thinking of his training reminded him of them. He didn't want to think of them. Or any of it. He tried to push it to the back of his mind but he couldn't. He found himself mumbling under his breath.

"Okay. Time to take care of this." She said wiggling out from beneath his arm and running a finger along his bandages.

Tzch.

Bulma leaned him forward and unwrapped his torso with care. She was cautious and careful. He wasn't sure if she was being kind or just nervous. But he appreciated it either way. He rapidly pressed buttons with one hand on his small phone. After a few moments he exhaled sharply and snapped it shut. Bulma thought better than to question him about what had happened.

"So Vegeta, tell me." She settled down on the couch behind him, scooting backward "earlier...you were…" she found herself trailing off , unable to finish her sentence.

"What?" he grumbled quietly, struggling to hide the pain he was in.

"Nothing. You were just…" she couldn't bring herself to ask him the questions that had been running in her mind over and over again for days. She needed to switch the subject.

Quick. Uh...

"So...when did you start working for these guys anyways?"

Wait. Stop. Abort. That's -

He didn't lift his head or look at her. He simply spoke into his hand that covered his face in what appeared to be casual disinterest. "I was five."

Shit. Good job Bulma. Okay. Bye Frying pan. Hello Fire.

"Oh. Huh. What did your parents think of that?"Bulma had tried to ask as casually as possible but for days all she could think about was little Vegeta - broken, scared, alone...with no one to hold him. It suddenly made sense that he didn't know what a Christmas was. What else didn't he know. It made her angry. She hated his parents for what they had done to him. Hated these people she knew literally nothing about.

"Nothing. They were dead."

God. Damn. It.

Suddenly her misplaced hatred had nowhere to go, expect to her chest and her eyes. She tried not to cry, and for someone so practiced she was awfully bad at it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." she sniffled as she wrapped her arms around him from the back.

"Its okay." He sounded like someone was speaking to him about sports that he didn't bother wasting his time or energy watching.

Bulma cleaned the wound in awkward silence. Vegeta's hand still covered his face. Afterwards she gingerly got up, walked over to the counter and grabbed the rest of the supplies.

"So. What are we going to do for the rest of the night?" she asked, a twinkle in her eye that sent shivers down his core and between his legs. She must have seen it in his eyes because she laughed. Pure music.

His mind raced around the empty apartment. He couldn't send her back to her place, it was a freakin' doorless wreck.

Ugh...let's see...I have...a plant.

Then he had an idea. He smirked at her. "Hey. Blue. You like movies, don't you?"

Bulma's eye peaked out from the space between his arm and his ribcage, her body folded up as close to Vegeta as possible, her knees brushing against the mop of blue hair that had been pulled this way and that, mercilessly for ninety minutes straight. The highest of squeals barely escaping her.

He couldn't help but smile, he lifted his arm, though she tried to hold it where it was. "Y'alright there Blue?"

Her other hand snuck up to sit on his shoulder, pressing a tentative "thumbs-up" into his cheek. He laughed.

"Do you want me to spoil it for you?" he asked. He had been watching her for nearly the entire time. Not that he needed to watch the movie. He had seen it nearly a thousand times.

"No." she squeaked desperately. "Just tell me if the alien is in the room."

"But you just said you didn't want me to-" just then she jumped and screamed, reacting to the film. He laughed again, wrapping his arms around her and running his hands through her hair.

It was the most tender expression he had ever made. He caught himself mid-act, it felt so natural, but so foreign. He stopped and gingerly dropped his hand to his side.

She grabbed fistfulls of his shirt and buried her face deeper in old, worn cotton, using the other hand to pick up his hand and place it over her eyes as her own hands were insufficient to block her view. She could see clearly through his fingers..

Resting his face against her head, closing his eyes, and listening to the odd mixture of the film and Bulma's terrified sounds, He unintentionally found himself singing under his breath with Ripley.

"You are my lucky star...you are…."

The he did something dangerous. He let go, let his mind wander and let it wonder. Wonder if this was what life was like, what it could be like for him. Life with her could be real, it could be his. It…

He hadn't realized the tape had reached its end, static running across the screen. He leaned forward and with his toe, pushed the tape back in and pressed "Stop" and "Rewind".

The tape whirred as it rewound.

"So Blue, how did you like it?" he was actually genuinely interested in finding out, though he wasn't quite sure why. He didn't much care what anyone thought ever. He should've known better than to try and reason it out.

She looked up at him with wide eyes. "Vegeta. That was a good movie. But...why on Earth would you watch it on purpose. That was terrifying."

He laughed, falling into her deep blue eyes, furrowed with concern and fear.

"I watched that one with you, but I'm not watching the other, like, twelve movies they made, I swear. I like you Vegeta, but not that much."

"There are more?" his voice shocked her, nearly causing her to fall off the couch.

"Yes...?" she questioned cautiously. "I'm sorry I keep forgetting you were raised by Cossacks." she teased, flicking his nose with her finger. She leaned into his chest, sighing, and looking up at him. "Vegeta?"

"Hmm."

"I...I was just wondering...why this movie? Why haven't you seen any others."

"Nappa. He used to work with my father. When I came under Frieza's employ I stayed with Nappa until I was old enough to run point. Unless I was training, that is. He...was never really good with kids...or anything for that matter. He didn't like me being up and about while he slept, so he would pop in the tape and set me down and I'd watch until I fell back asleep. Don't know where he got the movie."

Her fingers ran under the neck of his tank top and across the scars that marred his chest, with her words and her gentle touch, her fingers dug into the layers of ash that had long since buried his brief life before Frieza. What little real childhood he may have had that burned alive that night began to crackle in like logs in a fire. Snapping and sending smoldering embers flying through the air to land where they please, some smoldering out into the darkness, and some igniting uncontrollable fires that consumed everything in their path. He tried to swallow them but they had been pushed down for too long. He found himself wandering through ash and snow, words slurring from his mouth.

He mused leaning into her lap. "Everytime I try and remember my mother, she fades a little more. I don't even remember what she looks like. Blue, I don't even know her name. When I try to remember her all I can see is Ripley."

"Ripley?" Bulma questioned.

"Yeah. But I guess that's okay. I can pretend and…. and then it feels less like she never existed at all."

It struck Bulma that his voice was so numb, like a child asked to read aloud in front of his classmates. Blassé and distant. Bulma didn't fight the tears that trickled down her face and dripped into his shirt. She rubbed slow circles on his chest with her delicate fingertips.

"It was a fire. They were trapped inside and they burned alive. I still remember the sound of her screams. She was looking for me. Calling out my name."

Bulma didn't want to interrupt him. His thoughts seemed to be thin and gentle like wisps of smoke floating through the air and she was afraid if she asked the wrong question that they would dissipate.

"It burned fast and hot and when the fire died down there was nothing left but ash. That's when he took me. He was there that night. Frieza was. He….stood there with me. We watched, waited for someone….anyone... to come and save them but no one did."

His eyes were distant but they ran back and forth as though taking in the brush strokes of a painting. She had seen the look before, he was no longer here. He stood where she could not stand with him, in front of the smoldering ashes. He continued sleepily "When bodies burn, Blue...they smell...strange. I never got used to it. And…" he added with an odd expression, one she couldn't quite place, "No matter where you stand smoke gets in your eyes."

She let tears drip generously down her face, twisting the muscles around her eyes until they burned. She found herself wrapping her arms around him and pulling him in tightly and letting herself sob, nuzzling her face into his chest. He stiffened, unsure of how to respond.

His hands wandered through the air between his lap and her back until he settled on the back of her head. He gently patted it a few times in what was the most genuine expression of empathy he could muster.

He had no idea what was going on.

His eyes roamed around awkwardly. He didn't want to think about his mother or that night more than he already was right now. Vegeta's eyes darted awkwardly around the room until he resolved that it wasn't going to end anytime soon. He needed to accept it for what it was. He settled into the embrace and tried to relax as best he could.

They spoke deep into the night, she asked him question after question. It was the first time that Vegeta had spoken of any of these things to anyone. The words felt strange on his tongue. These experiences should've stayed in the past, long dead and buried, but he found himself stirring them to the surface again like stepping onthe the muddy bottom of a river and watching the clouds of muckfog the water. They spoke until the sky became a dusty purple and brilliant orange streams burst through the fluffy storm clouds. They fell asleep tucked gently away in each other's arms.

JANUARY 8th

Vegeta woke after a couple of hours to a bright, warm light piercing his eyes. It was coming from her bag. He needed to get going. He felt for her but she was gone. Something felt missing. He rubbed his eyes and reached down out of curiosity. It was coming from a small glass orb. One of multiple that the bag contained. It had caught sunlight and was reflecting it back brightly into Vegeta's eyes. It felt oddly warm for a heavy glass object, having been hidden in a bag all night.

Bulma stepped out of the bathroom, Vegeta's one towel draped loosely around her petite frame. She was rubbing her wet hair with one of his t-shirts. He dropped the orb and kicked the bag away in one swift moment. She met him back at the couch, sitting next to him, her cheeks rosy from the hot water of the shower.

"Next thing I'm going to buy you is some proper toiletries."

What does that even mean?

"Hey. Blue. What's that?" Gesturing to the bag with his head casually as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and rolled his shoulders.

"Oh." Her face lit up for a moment. "One sec, I'll show you." She hopped up with great enthusiasm and skipped over to the kitchen grabbing it and lightly tossing it between her hands on the way back to the couch. She handed it to Vegeta. It was warm.

She settled in next to him, genuine excitement on her face. He was curled up using the couch as best he could to support his aching frame without letting her know just how badly his body hurt. Their gazes met and fireworks seemed to sparkle in the blue sky of her eyes.

"This is a Dragon Ball. A long time ago but not too long ago, there was a brilliant doctor. His name was Kami. Now Kami lived in a peaceful country. One day, that country was attacked and it began what was known as the Night of the Long War. It was a war that lasted nearly fifty years and Kami spent much of it treating soldiers. He was distraught by all of the wanton destruction and death. After the war ended he lost his sense of purpose. he no longer spent his time treating wounded soldiers but they still haunted his thoughts. He devised a plan. He would create something, something that would allow a man to live again. Now, the legend says that he actually succeeded. Nobody knows how though. Just before Kami died he sealed the secrets of his research into seven glass orbs and scattered them across the globe. It is said if you find all seven you could unlock the secret to Kami's research and finish what he started. Some even say, they hold the key to immortality. But no one knows. No one has ever found all seven."

She told him briefly of her research and her quest to find them and by the end of it he had curled into the corner of the couch the ball set carefully in front of him. She was gently stroking his back, the towel moving this way and that as she moved.

He swallowed hard, she wasn't sure if he was struggling not to cry or if the pain was getting to him.

"What do you think?" he didn't open his eyes, shivered ever so slightly at her touch. It surprised her that he had been listening at all.

"Hmm?" She questioned gently.

"Do you think it's real?"

"Oh...I don't know...but I am going to find out."

Bulma wrapped his towel around her naked body as she stepped out into the cold hallway, following him. "So I guess you're going to…"

"Yeah.. ' going to work'." He didn't want to leave. He had been gone so long the chances of things going South for this were already very high. Besides he was going to kill Nappa today. He needed to stop putting that off.

"Pfft. Yeah if you want to call it that." She smiled at him gently but her eyes betrayed her. She didn't want him to leave either.

"Hey. Thanks for hanging around... after last night's...fiasco." He shrugged timidly and shifted back and forth.

"Yeah, well, to be honest, I didn't feel safe in a freakin' doorless apartment." Again, she smiled that honey smile, staring at him with those starlight eyes. He wanted to look away but he couldn't. He could fall into her gaze and drown in her eyes. He felt like such an oaf. Such an idiot. He saw the splintered door behind her.

Say something. Make it better. Quick.

"Yeah I'll pay for the repairs an-" before he could finish his sentence she turned her head and kissed him gently on the cheek. He found his hand reach up to touch his cheek in disbelief.

She giggled then added flirtatiously "Just, uh, if you want to drop by again tonight. We will do something other than 'talk' this time...if you want..." She winked at him and bit down on her bottom lip. "Enjoy your day at work." She slid a finger from his lips down to the zipper of his hoodie then gently lifted her hand off and closed his door.

Holy. Shit.

Nothing on Earth could possibly ruin his mood. It was simultaneously the shortest and longest day Vegeta had ever had. He wanted nothing more than to get back home so he could go across the hall.

Vegeta stepped into his apartment to drop his bag...a duffle full of drugs, cash, and assorted "tools" would probably ruin whatever mood they were going for. As he pushed open the door his mind wasn't in his apartment, it was across the hall with Bulma, only the sound of the broken flower pot underneath his foot ripped him back to his surroundings. By the time he noticed the turned couch and broken television, it was far too late. She was the first thing he thought of. They would come for her too.

He turned to shout her name but nothing came out. He felt a hand and a delicate, sweet-scented cloth wrap around his mouth and another hand around his throat. They pulled him backwards violently. It burned and then he felt himself slip into the abstract shapelessness.

As always, the greatest of thanks to my valiant army of copy editors Hanko, Cindermane and dgschneider for tolerating my flurry of artistic writing and making it presentable! Especially Hanko for the late night write sesh.

And praises ever be to Her Holiness, Stupidoomdoodles and the lovely LadyVegeets for inspiring this fic and really for getting me writing for the first time.

Comments are welcome, say hello! I don't bite!