THE PRINCE OF ASH AND SNOW

by The Not-So-Super Saiyan

based off the web comic by Stupidoomdoodles

Content Warning: contains extreme violence and some language

CHAPTER ONE: THE GIRL NEXT DOOR

DECEMBER 3rd

The first thing he felt was the cold. Not the kind that nips at the nose and excites the lungs. No. The kind of cold that penetrates your bones and thickens your blood, numbing your limbs and causing your muscles to shake. As the rest of his senses returned to him, the man became keenly aware of just how incredibly lost he was. A single bell light swung back and forth in the dark room. He could see more light slipping in from under the door but it was far away, too far. Officer Johnson didn't remember how he got here. He was sore. His head throbbed. The only noise he could hear was the distant echo of dripping water and the sound of his own erratic breaths. He could feel the frozen air of winter on his ankles. Was he in some sort of shed? A warehouse? Everytime the bell light would slow down, almost enough to stop its motion, something would go ping! and it would, once again, be set swinging.

He tried to control his breathing, but panic soon took over. Using all his strength, he struggled in vain to break the ropes that bound his torso, hands, and ankles. Thrashing violently, he tipped the chair over, his face colliding with the cold concrete floor. It was porous and rough like it had been worn down. He started to sob uncontrollably. "Help! Someone help me!"

"Oh come now, Johnson. Stop that. You're just embarrassing yourself." A harsh voice cut through the darkness. It shot needles of panic through the pit of his stomach and into his spine.

"Who-who's there? Who are you?"

"My god, Johnson, you really have no idea why I'm here? Come now…," the voice chided. A steel-toed boot collided with the man's ribs hard enough to flip the chair over, sending a trail of saliva down his chin and shirt.

"Oh...oh...God….it's...it's….you." Even if Johnson was untied, even if he was free and had his weapon in his hands, he would've been paralyzed with fear.

The newcomer stepped into the light. He was young, Johnson may have even described him as handsome if they had met under different circumstances, but he knew this boy, knew what he was capable of. He wasn't a boy, or a man, he was some sort of demon. His dark eyes flickered with excitement as he moved closer.

"Yeah, it's me." He stopped for a moment with feigned thoughtfulness. "I'll tell you what, Johnson, we're going to play a little game."

That's when the officer began to beg.

Ignoring him, the young man continued. "Here's how we play. I will touch you once and you'll get one chance to tell me what I want to know. If you don't, I get to touch you again. Whoever lasts the longest wins. Sounds like fun, doesn't it, Johnson?" He was clearly enjoying himself. He had reached the officer now and with one swift movement jerked the chair upright, stabilizing it with his foot. Their faces were only inches apart. A sick grin split his face. There was death in his eyes.

"Wha-what d-d-do you mean t-t-t-touch?" Johnson whimpered through the frantic gasps and sobs.

The young man smiled sadistically at Johnson, he unfolded his arms and ran his grip down to the officer's tied hands sandwiched between his knees. He leaned in even closer and whispered in a gruff voice "...like this…" and with one swift motion snapped Johnson's index finger.

"I feel it's only fair to tell you, I've never lost."

The last thing Officer Johnson saw was the man's face split into a sick grin and flash of white teeth in the darkness before he lost consciousness.

Vegeta slipped into the dark alleyway, pulling his fresh, clean hoodie down over his chest. He rubbed his raw knuckles and thoughtfully watched the snow as it gently fell in the light of the streetlamps.

He hated the snow and he hated being stuck in West City. It was just another shithole job. Despite the fact that he had proven himself time and time again as one of the best "assets" to the Cold Family, he never got prestigious assignments. He always ended up somewhere like West City or Ginger Town. Ugh...Ginger Town. He was wasting his time sharking from low-class scum for Frieza when he had the capability to do so much more. He had been stationed there for just over three months in a bare apartment at the heart of West City and there he would stay until Frieza ordered him somewhere else.

Well that was disappointing. He thought to himself. He walked briskly down the street, pulling out his Nokia 6061 from his pants pocket and absentmindedly typed a message with one thumb.

Back from store. No bread. Won't have any til Monday. But, they had candy. -V

thats a damn shame old lady needed bread loves candy tho - n

He chuckled to himself. Old lady. He shoved his phone back down into his pocket. He was finally home. His cold, aching hands fumbled with the keys.

"Hi neighbor!"

Vegeta froze. Oh God. Not now. He turned around just in time for her to collide with him and fall right into his arms. She was breathless, her hair and coat covered in freshly fallen snow. She was a petite, pale girl with vibrant blue hair and piercing blue eyes. Light freckles speckled her face. She was simply electric. She was, she was like starlight. He hated it.

"Hi crazy person who keeps running into my arms for no reason." His eyes darted around for an escape. The door was so damn close. Ugh.

"Say, Vegeta, since we became friends in the last few weeks-"

"More like acquaintances really." He tried to be as curt as possible, attempting to inch past her to the door. But resistance was futile.

"SUPER BEST ACQUAINTANCES, yes, how about you join me and my friends this Christmas?" She almost jumped, leaning in even closer as she spoke, her eyes alight like a gasoline fire. Her enthusiasm was exhausting and frightening and confusing. God, this girl was so confusing.

"Uh...what's that?" He was absentmindedly trying to get to the door again.

"My christmas party, would you like to come?" She bit down on her lip and looked up at him with those adopt-me-eyes that puppies give. Damn it. Of all of the people she could bother, why did it have to be him?

Suddenly feeling hot and prickly in the face, Vegeta stuttered. "No, I...uh...I mean a Christmas?" He would rather have been just about anywhere but there right then.

Bulma caught his gaze again, her smile dripped with honey. He held his breath waiting for her to say something...or leave. That would work too.

"Vegeta?" She questioned, giggling. "Are you secretly an alien?"

"Okay, crazy. We're done here." With one swift movement he turned her around and slid into his apartment, slamming the door behind him.

"I'll take that as a maybe!"

DECEMBER 8th

Vegeta sat by the frozen fountain in the frigid night air. He hated the cold. He hated it more than the blistering heat, more than a torrential rain, and even more than wading through waist deep mud. He'd never complain about it though. What good would that do? It would just guarantee he be sent somewhere even colder next time. He ripped his phone from his pocket.

2:59 am

Of course Nappa was late. Nappa was always late. If it wasn't for Vegeta, nothing would ever get done on time...or at all. Would it kill him to be responsible for once? Or to pick a warmer spot? Shit.

He had been waiting nearly a week for this drop. Nappa always had one reason or another to put it off until Vegeta explicitly threatened to wax him. The older man would never admit to it, but he was afraid of Vegeta. That was good. There may be hope for him yet.

Vegeta wadded up his hands and shoved them deeper into the cold fabric of his hoodie, his fingerless gloves covering his suspiciously bloody and bruised hands. Pulling out his ratty paperback copy of Ender's Game, he thumbed through it, trying to distract himself from the bitter winds that stung his face, neck, and ears. It was the only book he actually owned. He could slide it into his duffle and take it wherever...work...brought him.

His life, the life he had been fated for, didn't allow much time for casual reading….or anything for that matter. That thought itself almost made him chuckle. He was honestly surprised sometimes that he even learned how to read. His tactical education was much more advanced than that of his academic education, but still Frieza took an interest in his learning. He'd never understood it.

Times like this were dangerous. He'd let his mind wander where it would take him. Often it took him to the past. That was the last place he wanted to be. While he survived it once, he wasn't so sure he could do so again. This was the reason he never looked back.

A large, bald man wearing khakis and a dark brown sweater approached him. Vegeta didn't bother looking up from his book.

"Mind if I sit here?" the man asked.

"Look at you, using your big boy words. There is hope for you yet." Vegeta said cooly, slowly turning the page.

"Shut the hell up, Geets." The large man threw himself down next to Vegeta.

"Don't call me 'Geets'." Vegeta sounded as if he couldn't be any less interested.

"So, I heard you picked up some candy for the Old Lady at the store."

"I hope she likes snow."

The man laughed and slapped Vegeta on the back. Vegeta struggled to contain his irritation. He unhooked his slender ankles and pushed a ragged duffle bag from behind his feet to the man's feet.

"How much candy did you get?" The man looked shocked.

"Every last piece." He turned a page and then looked at the man with a raised eyebrow and a crooked smile, adding, "all one hundred kilos."

The man almost fell into the fountain.

"What the hell, Geets?" The man hissed in Vegeta's ear "Do you even know how much this is worth? You just pulled a two million dollar fucking job."

"Nappa, I don't need you to tell me how good I am." Vegeta said casually as he walked away without looking up from his book once.

It just wasn't working, nothing was working. Bulma slammed her soldering iron on the table and it bounced to the floor. She buried her face in her hands. What good were the damn Dragon Balls if they were lost? What good were these blueprints if she only had 57% of the information? And what good was she if she couldn't find them? She wasn't strong like Goku. She wasn't terrifying like Launch. She didn't have authority like Krillin. She wasn't...well, she was kind of glad she didn't have anything in common with Roshi. What she did have was her mind. She was smart. Wicked smart.

Although, she sure didn't feel that way right now. This stupid device seemed simple enough in theory but everytime she thought she had worked a way out of the maze of circuitry she had built she found herself at another dead end.

She wanted to smash the stupid screen into a thousand tiny pieces. As her face slipped out her hands, she realized she'd been crying. Setting down the small screwdriver, she leaned against the cold window and watched as condensation dripped circuits and patterns down the inside of the glass. She welcomed the sting of the cool water on her bare arms, and watched as white clumps swirled and danced in the dark sky, never seeming to touch the ground.

Something about the storm felt so clean, so simple, unlike everything else in her life which was becoming increasingly complicated, moving from black and white into unreadable shades of mucky gray. Her body felt stiff and heavy, like it was about to collapse under its own weight and crush her.

A sound pulled her back from the flurries. The distinct creak of familiar heavy footsteps in the hallway. Quiet and careful, intentional. Vegeta. She flicked her wrist, turning the face of her watch on.

3:34 am

Shit. It was late, or early?

She jumped up and shoved her eye against the peephole. He was still outside fumbling with the lock.

It was just then that she had a genius idea.

Vegeta's face and hands burned from the rapid change in temperature. He had been out in the storm for nearly two hours for a drop that should have only taken fifteen minutes. His hands were bright red and swollen and his fingernails were turning a nice shade of purple. Dropping his keys on the ground, he fumbled with the kitchen sink, turning the water on cold. It felt like fire. He slammed his head on the cupboard in frustration and hissed.

Screw Nappa. Screw this godforsaken frozen wasteland. Screw Frieza and the Colds. Everyone of them could freeze in Hell. Everyone could freeze in Hell, as far as Vegeta was concerned. He decided he was going to kill the next person he saw.

Damn. It. All.

A sound pulled him back from the fire in his hands. It was a gentle, fluttering knock at his door. Glancing at the time, he knew that it could only be one person.

Great. This night keeps getting better and better. He sighed. No. Ignore it. She'll go away.

But she didn't. Of course she didn't. She never did. She was like Q fever or Agent Orange. She would lay dormant, undetected and strike when you least expected it. Nothing deterred her, nothing could get rid of her. She was ruthless. He could barely hear her cheery voice over the kitchen sink and through the door.

"Vegeta, open up. I know you're in there. I have something for you."

He didn't respond. He tried to turn up the water but it wouldn't go up any further. It definitely didn't muffle the sound any more.

"Oh, come on. It's me, your neighbor. Bulma." She added the last word with a sing-song tone. It made him sick. She made him sick. Everything made him sick. She clearly wasn't taking the hint.

"Go away." He grumbled loudly.

"Come on, you're not going to say no to a free beer, are you?" She teased through the door.

What was she up to?

He walked up to the door and pressed his face against the cold seam between the door frame and the door.

"Yes. I am." He said harshly.

He could practically feel her boundless energy seeping in through the thin walls of the apartment. He let his forehead fall against the door with a quiet thunk.

Why? Why me? He thought. I don't have time for this.

"Just take the beer. No strings attached. I'll stay out here and drink mine and you can either join me or drink yours in there."

There was an awkward silence before she heard the deadbolt slowly unlock. She smirked. Gotcha. The door opened just enough for a hand to shoot out and grab ahold of a bottle before the door slammed shut again and the deadbolt clicked. She couldn't help but chuckle. This guy was ridiculous.

Would having a beer with his neighbor literally kill him?

She turned her back to leave, then stopped. Something tugged at her heart with every step that she took. She had never met someone so entirely alone. Did he have friends? Family? She found herself leaning against the cold wood of the door and sliding down to the ground. She took a thoughtful sip of her drink.

"I don't know if you like beer or not. I'm not much of a drinker myself but it can help calm me when I'm stressed out or thinking myself into knots."

Nothing.

"I actually had to check these to see if they had expired because I've had them in there for so long. Six pack I bought about a year and a half ago. Can alcohol even expire?"

Nothing.

"I've been up late working on this huge project and it's got me stumped. Didn't even realise how late it was. What about you?"

Nothing.

"Work."

Her heart almost jumped out of her mouth. She suddenly didn't know how to respond, twisting the bottle around in her hands and leaning her head against his door.

"Oh...yeah? Must work like a graveyard shift, huh? What kind of work do you do?"

Vegeta's hands were still burning, he had wrapped the cold beer in the sleeve of his hoodie. He had no idea why he had accepted the drink. But he had told himself that it was it would've been the easiest way to get rid of her. Yeah. That's right. He didn't drink, typically. Impaired judgement and took away your inhibitions. Inhibitions were important when you worked with nothing but liars, killers, and thieves. Here he was sitting against the door sipping a beer and talking to this woman. He really shouldn't encourage her like this. Now she was prying. Best not to answer any questions.

"Are you like a mall cop or something?" He heard her thoughtful voice float through the door.

What the actual hell?

"Do I look like a mall cop, Blue?"

Tzch. And I'm the alien. He mused to himself.

"Uh. No. You do not. If you are you're the most handsome mall cop I've ever seen."

There it was. That hot, prickly feeling crawling up his neck and face again.

Silence hung heavy in the hall and Bulma's ears filled with the hallow humming of the fluorescent lights. His gruff muffled voice split the silence.

"It won't, by the way."

"What?"

Was he trying to continue the conversation?

"It's alcohol, it's fermented it won't go bad until after you open it."

Bulma heard a rustle as Vegeta stood on the other side of the door. She followed his lead.

"Oh. That's good to know. For, you know. The future."

"Night, Blue." She heard his voice fade away as he retreated.

She bit her lip to keep her knees from giving out. Her heart fluttered around in her chest like the snow flurries outside. "Good night."

DECEMBER 10th

Vegeta wiped the snow from his face with his forearm. Hmm, his hands still smelled like bleach. He stopped by the Scotty's Liquor about a mile away from his apartment to get supplies. It was only 10:00 pm, an early night for him. He liked this place. It was out of the way, quiet. No one ever came here and no cameras.

He stocked up, paid with cash, and grabbed a roll of quarters from the corner store before heading home. It was dead quiet in the complex. 10:00 pm on a Tuesday night? The perfect time to do laundry.

Vegeta slung the burlap bag over his shoulder, shoved his paperback and the quarters into his pockets, and headed back down the stairs to the laundry facility. He strode into the laundry room and stopped in his tracks at the familiar sight of soft blue tresses, his combat boots squealing on the tile. Great. Just, great. Despite his initial shock, he recovered quickly and strode into the room with his usual air of simmering broodiness.

She seemed as surprised to see him as he had been to see her. "Vegeta?" she sniffled with wide eyes."What are you doing here?"

Wait, was she crying?

"Laundry." He replied dryly.

"Oh…yeah." She seemed embarrassed? Whatever. Maybe that meant she wouldn't talk. He settled in tossing his bag off his shoulder onto an empty washer and dropping his bloody clothes in. Damn, he had done a number on these. He pulled out his detergent, ammonia, and vinegar and began pouring them generously into the washing machine. He heard her cough.

"Ew , what do you wash your clothes with? Gah, that smells disgusting!" He smirked to himself and settled in on top of the tumbling washer to read, arms folded tightly across his chest.

When Bulma heard her washer cycle end she dug through the load until she found several pairs of panties. She inspected them, wadded them up in her fists and threw them back in with exasperation.

"Y'know…. The secret to taking blood stains out is vinegar and ammonia." He mused, absentmindedly turning the page.

"Oh my god Vegeta! Stop with the creepy 'Breaking Bad' advice in the laundry room!"

"M'just sayin' you must blow a fortune on underwear, man." He purposely avoided looking up at her but could hear her sigh.

Wait, was that a sniffle? Was she crying? Damn it.

Something in him twinged. Could it possibly be... guilt? No, couldn't be. He had killed - oh, God he didn't even want to think about how many people, and he did worse than this everyday. Besides, wasn't he trying to get her away from him? Despite his inner crisis Vegeta found himself snatching up his supplies, book still in hand, and hopping down from the washer to throw himself on the bench next to her.

She looked up at him, eyes glassy with tears. He held the ammonia and vinegar out to her without looking up, keeping her in his peripherals and pretending to read.

She took them quietly and set about starting the load in the washer. Bulma slumped down next to him with a heavy sigh handing him back the ammonia and vinegar, but before she let go of the bottle her head flung towards him with as shrewd a look as she could muster.

"Wait just one minute. Why the hell do you have these?" she leaned in way to close for his comfort, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. He could smell her. She smelled like cinnamon.

"Are you some sort of secret agent spy?"

Bulma stared at him with wide eyes. He sneered. Then he chuckled, then he laughed. He couldn't help himself.

Damn, when was the last time he had honestly laughed; let everything else fall off of his shoulders, slip away, and just laughed. He honestly couldn't remember ever laughing.

She seemed as surprised as him by his genuine laughter. After a few moments of staring up at him with those wide, blue eyes she broke the silence.

"Wow, you have a beautiful laugh, Vegeta." A starry, eyed smile.

Damn her. Damn her to hell.

"No, Blue, I'm not a secret agent spy." And even though he tried not to, he smiled. His ease around her was beginning to make him utterly uncomfortable. He sunk onto the bench and buried himself in his book passing the next forty minutes in its pages, without reading a single word.

Their laundry had finished at relatively the same time, which meant they both walked back up the stairs together. It filled Bulma with as much unbridled joy as it filled Vegeta with pure, unadulterated, existential dread. She hooked her laundry basket in one arm and rested it on her hip, hooking her other arm through his.

When they finally arrived Vegeta opened his door and before he could protest Bulma flung her arms around him. "Yes. I finally get to see your place." She craned her neck to see past his mess of spiky, dark locks.

He sighed and stepped out of the way, letting her pass. Don't fight it. It's pointless. "Oh. It's uh….tidy." Her eyes scanned the barren apartment. There was a navy fleece blanket bunched up in the corner of the couch, she spotted a bowl in the sink. There was a duffle bag tucked in the corner behind the coach but other than that, the apartment was completely and utterly barren.

She rubbed the back of her neck gingerly. "You, uh...don't entertain much, do you?"

What the fu-who the Hell is this girl?

"Do I look like I do?" He didn't even bother trying to hide his irritation. He put his hand on her shoulder leading her back towards the front door. He opened it and brusquely pushed her back out into the hallway. Her look of surprise slowly melted into one of determination.

"Look woman, I know you never listen to me, but for the last time: I don't need friends, I don't want friends, and unless you want to get in a lot of trouble or worse, get yourself killed, STOP. BUTTING. INTO. MY. LIFE." He paused. "Goodbye." And with that he slammed the door. Vegeta slid down the inside of the door, rubbing his hands on his face.

"A plant. That's what's missing in there."

"Damn it, Blue, go home." He hoped she wouldn't hear the desperation in his voice. He buried his face in his calloused hands and moaned.

He hoped she would leave, he needed her to leave, but all he wanted was for her to stay.

Funny. That's the first time he could remember wanting anything.

This was not good.

Vegeta spent the next couple of weeks avoiding Bulma even more than he had before, but everytime he thought he had the strange fiery girl figured out she would surprise him. If there was one thing he hated more than other people it was surprises. He hated surprises. But he was becoming accustomed to her and her hallway chats. He hated that too.

As he left his apartment that morning he was surprised to find the hallway empty. For the past three weeks she had been there at the same time pretending to do things in the hallway. He saw right through it though.

He wasn't sure which he hated more. Talking to her everyday or her sudden absence. It didn't matter. Maybe she had finally taken a hint a realised he was lost cause. It would have been the first smart thing she'd done since they met.

He ignored the hollow feeling in his chest as he dragged his heavy feet from the warm apartment building into the unforgiving cold. Never admitting to himself that he had hoped to see her.

DECEMBER 23rd

Vegeta was agitated. How much longer was he going to be trapped here? Frieza himself had set up headquarters in West City for now. That was very strange. Something big was going to happen. He needed to figure out what it was. But...what he really needed was to get out of here. Soon. He found himself looking for Blue every morning. Sometimes when he let his mind wander it found its way back to her, like a lost puppy.

A gentle crunch of fine gravel disrupted his thoughts as Vegeta adjusted himself. He stretched his scarred hands and fingers, shaking out the stiffness and feeling the weight of the fingerless tactical gloves. He adjusted the sight of the scope with expert precision. Lying on his stomach, eyes trained through the scope he breathed in the frosty winter morning.

Nappa lay next to him, resting his chin on his hands. He sighed loudly. Over and over and over again.

"So…."

Here it comes.

Nappa couldn't let silence just be. He had to rape it to death with his grating voice and his prehistoric brain.

Shit, he was so irritating.

"...Raditz and I...noticed that you've been in quite a mood lately."

Vegeta shifted his shoulders.

Man, if this dick doesn't show up soon I'm was going to wax Nappa instead. He thought.

"No idea what you're talking about."

He peered through the sight again pretending he was adjusting his positioning.

He wasn't. His aim was perfect. Always was.

"Well…"

Damn it Nappa, just drop it already.

"You were sorta whistling on the way here and it wasn't like the Jaws theme."

Vegeta didn't miss a beat. "Had a song stuck in my head."

"And. And you laughed. I've never seen you laugh and I've known you since you were like..five."

"Thought of a new funny way to kill someone with a shoelace." Vegeta still hadn't looked at Nappa. He was pretending to wipe dirt off the chamber, polishing the already clean body of the gun with his thumb.

Just when he thought that Nappa had finally dropped the subject.

"Vegeta….did you meet a girl?"

Okay. We're done here. He sighed his voice emotionless as he fixed his eye to the sight again "Nappa if you don't drop the subject I promise your name will be in the papers tomorrow."

"I'll take that as a yes."

It had all gone according to plan, just like it always did. Vegeta was the best of the best. Frieza had built him that way. Taking a life no longer held the same thrill that it once did. Torture came close, but still it wasn't the same. The same rush, the same fear...the same guilt. Vegeta began to wonder if a part of him, or all of him had died somewhere along the way with all of those people. He arrived home around midnight and stopped at his door. But something was wrong. He didn't recognize anything. Maybe he had just gotten lost in his thoughts and passed his door.

06-205.

Damn. It. All. To. Hell.

He hadn't missed his door at all. The door had simply been hidden. It was adorned in gaudy Christmas decorations. Shiny silver and green tinsel twisted around itself wrapped up the frame of the door, flashing lights, a wreath hung in the center made from fresh pine, red bulbs of different sizes hung all over the wreath, underneath the wreath was a plastic sign of cursive lettering that read "Merry Christmas" it was completely covered in red glitter and as a result red glitter now completely covered everything. The oddest decoration though was tucked into the door frame, hanging from a string some sort of branch with red berries and leaves.

He was not in the mood for this. What was this bullshit? Was this supposed to be that "Christmas" Blue was talking about? Shit. What day was that supposed to be. She said it was the 25th, didn't she?

He pulled out his phone. It read: 12:06 am Dec 24.

Oh. Damn her. He stepped closer, pushing aside the tinsel to get to the door lock. He accidentally bumped something with the steel toe of his boot. There was a box, wrapped in bright, glittery paper. It was bright blue. Electric. Just like her eyes. And it was covered in poorly drawn grumpy faces...with spiky hair.

Funny. Wow. What a freakin' comedian.

He lifted up the box, there was an envelope attached to it with curling silver and blue ribbons. He grumbled, looking back at her door. For a moment, just a moment he had the oddest compulsion to walk over to her door and knock on it.

No. Nope. Not happening. Not tonight.

He shook his head and pushed the key into the door, scooping up the box and the envelope and skulked in, kicking the door shut behind him. Glitter exploded from the sign, covering everything.

Vegeta sat cross-legged on one side of the couch the box, and envelope sitting on the other end. They stared each other down.

He should just throw it away. There really was no reason for him to even look at it. Attachments were dangerous. Attachments were liabilities. If he really did care for her, and he wasn't saying he did, then he needed to cut her out of his life and fast, before anyone else found out.

As he told himself all of these things, as he tried to convince himself to hate her, he found himself leaning forward and grabbing the box gingerly almost as if it would bite him. He gently tugged on the ribbons, lifting the edges of the paper with care, and opening the lid.

He chuckled. He couldn't help it. Damn it Bulma. He found himself smiling as he gently lifted the beautiful twisting plant from the box.

Ha. That girl.

The spiny cactus wore delicate pink flowers atop each cluster. It was planted in a ceramic flower pot that looked just like a human skull, it was almost the same size too. Vegeta turned it around and around in his hands. It felt so...odd. It felt so strange. She went out and got this just for him. It was all so weird.

He sighed and covered his face with his hand. How did he get so tangled up in all of this? He got up off the couch and walked over to the kitchen counter. It was one of the only structures in the apartment. Setting the plant down gently he rotated it so he could see it from where he slept on the couch. Then he did something he didn't anticipate. He smiled.

Vegeta picked up the box and the string, tossing it in the trash. He debated keeping the paper but thought better of it.

He threw his sore body down on the couch just to feel something stab him in the back. Shit. That's right, this sentimental shit show wasn't over yet. He pulled the card out from where it had tried to lodge itself in his kidney.

The outside of the plain white envelope had swirling white letters on it. It read "Tough Guy". He gently lifted the flap and pulled out a card. It was obnoxious and gaudy and had a smiling, fat, old guy on it.

What the hell is this?

He opened it up carefully. She had filled the inside of the card with tidy writing and little scribbles.

"Tough Guy,

I hope you like the plant! It's a Chamaelobivia rose quartz. (I included the tag that has the care instructions) I even found you a flower pot that fits you perfectly! I know this might be strange for you since you're from outer space. I don't know what kind of holidays you have on Planet Vegeta but here on Earth we celebrate Christmas every December. (hehe) Our friends and families gather around and we eat delicious food and we get gifts for each other. But the most important part is being together.

My friends are like family to me. We are having a Christmas party tonight. It will be at 6224 Kame Beach Court, West City. It's a pink house with a palm tree in the front, you can't miss it! If you need a ride you can just text me! I would love it if you would come. You don't have to bring anything but yourself. We would all love to see you there. No one should be alone on Christmas.

Merry Christmas.

Love,

Bulma"

He had almost been stupid enough to do it. He had already put an almost-clean shirt on and grabbed his shoes. But a soft vibration in his pocket brought him back to reality. Back to his reality.

"What am I doing?" he muttered to himself as he opened up his phone to check his messages.

Raditz has gone rogue. Looking for Kakarrot. MIA for 48. - N.

Something sour twisted in the pit of his stomach. There were no secret codes or hidden messages. It was too urgent for that, too important. Raditz was gone. He had gone AWOL. Searching for his stupid, long lost brother that he would never shut up about.

Serves him right. Vegeta would lose no sleep over Raditz. If he got himself killed that was his own damn fault. Maybe it was this Christmas thing. Blue said it was all about families and shit like that and Raditz was practically obsessed with this estranged brother of his.

Oh well.

10-4.

What else was he supposed to say? Did Nappa really expect him to run out and chase after Raditz. I mean, Vegeta was that good. He knew he could track him down easily. They had worked together for a large part of Vegeta's life and Raditz wasn't nearly as careful or cunning as Vegeta. It would be like following the path of destruction left by a tornado. But he wasn't about to chase after him unless Frieza ordered it himself. Raditz had made his decision and he could live with it.

Vegeta had come to his senses, at least for now. No. He wouldn't be joining Blue and her friends tonight. He stripped off his clothes, threw himself on the couch, and held his lumpy pillow to his chest. He tried desperately to sleep.

That night, every child in the world tossed in fits of sleeplessness wondering what the next day would hold. Every child...and Vegeta.

The light caught in the center of the gemstone orb as the man turned it around and around in his hand, his pale skin catching the light and illuminating in the dark. His sickly sweet voice carried through the stale cold air. Like the scent of rotten peaches.

"And I had such high hopes for him. Zarbon...I want you to keep a closer eye on our little prince. I want to know everything about the girl. I want them under constant surveillance. It would seem as though another one of my men thinks that they can play house in total impunity. "

"Yes, Frieza, sir."

AN: Special thanks to Cindermane and dgschneider for copy editing for me. I welcome comments.

xoxo, The Not-So-Super Saiyan