Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ All by myself ❯ Fireworks ( Chapter 6 )

Chapter Six

Fireworks… Vegeta's P.O.V

We have been flying for ten minutes, and even now the female in my arms has her face buried into the crook of my neck, the wetness that seems to have an endless source, drowning the torn remains of my blue spandex body suit. The only sign that she is still awake is the slight whimpers and contraction of her forearm around my neck, making her body close to mine, so much so that I can feel the rise and fall of her chest just as though it was dictated by my own.

I course through the blustery night, mindless of my surroundings, finding it almost impossible to discern how I feel right now. Humph! Feelings… yes… despite how people look at me, against my own will I am feeling something. Something that is too complicated to even try and begin to comprehend. It is so alien, so completely disorientating, draining my sanity, making me question my beliefs, ambitions and (more importantly) myself.

I do not understand her reasons for grief, after all it was Kakarrot's decision to stay in other world, but I can identify with it. Perhaps… perhaps it is because more than anything else I mourn myself, what I am, what I used to be, because now I find that I am some kind of weird mixture of the two. With just enough sensibility to lament my past, but not enough to make me want to change who I am, lost and desperately trying to search for some reason to exist.

At times I have thoughts of trying to get over this stumbling block of pride and give Bulma what she wants, even though I am still unsure of what that is, but at others I want nothing more than to be how my blood dictates… ruthless, uncaring, the true Prince of Vegeta-sei, a ruler of men, unhindered by reaction or duty.

What angers me the most, though, is the knowledge that perhaps I have gotten myself into more that I can cope with, because under some strange pretence, one that I have repeatedly told her I can never indulge in, she cares for me. I know that now she wants nothing more than my presence, and at this moment, lost in my own uncertainty, I have no qualms about letting her delude herself, because even though her emotions are oppressive and overbearing in their humanness, they still manage to make me feel like shit. Especially as is the case now, when I know that I am part of the reason she is suffering from them.

It is a curious phenomenon, because I would have thought that letting anyone know how utterly useless I felt today, would have made me physically sick, but that is not the case. I don't feel any resentment to her for witnessing my outburst earlier. On the contrary, it eases my wounded pride and offers a silent consolation to my… feh! I was about to say heart, but that is impossible. That organs duel function has forever been dead to me.

We have reached the outskirts of Western capital city, and the familiar sound of explosions impacting against the night's sky, makes my whole body tense, throwing me out of my thoughts, and stopping us short of our destination. My blood thumps at the commotion, as instinct takes over, and as my power starts to rise I turn in the air, shielding my cargo in anticipation of something sinister, only to see the sky turn a mass of color.

I am not the only one to have noticed, and even though Trunks is now sound asleep, Bulma's head moves against my shoulder as she tries to focus on the disturbance. I grimace a little at the sharp stab of pain that lances though my body as strands of aquamarine hair catch and pull at one of my many wounds, which still remain untreated.

Wiping a few of the tears away she looks across the horizon to see what has stopped us. As strange as it may seem though, this lapse in our journey actually manages to lift her out of that settled melancholy, and brings a faint smile to her face.

"Isn't it pretty!" she exclaims.

All too automatically I am about rebuff the statement, but think better of it, as it doesn't appear that she expected me to answer. I think she spoke it more to relieve her own suffering than anything else, to try and get her mind away from this hellish day, and its losses.

"I guess they are celebrating Cells Defeat!" she muses, in barely a whisper.

Instead of insulting her enthusiasm, I train my mind to finding a safe way through the explosions. Unfortunately none presents itself. On my own it would be no problem, but I am not on my own, "How the hell am I supposed to pick my way though this lot!" I grumble.

So we wait, and having the best seat in the house, Bulma watches on with the fascination of a child, as the fireworks echo against the sky. If the truth be told, then they hold little beauty for me, and as their multicoloured explosions, flash against the darkness, my eyes wander from the lightshow to linger on something I find ten times more enigmatical.

Dammit this happens too often! I think I have everything under control. I think that this fascination with her is only the lust that my body cannot hide when it needs physical contact, but I am wrong. Right now I have no thought of bedding her, and yet still I can feel the pounding through my chest that her closeness inspires.

When I first returned I would have certified that it was nothing but the transformation of the Super Saiyan form, but now I am not so sure. It disturbs me, makes my reason want to get the hell away, but my body does not react. Instead I continue to stare at her, making my lungs refrain from filling with the oxygen, in a maddening lapse of rational thought.

I am not sure if she feels my stare, but still looking at the various displays, she speaks… this time with every intention of making me answer, "Tell me honestly why you came back Vegeta."

I grit my teeth, as the question is especially daunting, seeing as right now something in the back of my mind is trying to tell me that maybe I have more reason to be here than I want to admit. "Don't make me say the words again woman!" I growl, not being able to offer voice to anything deeper. "I have offered you explanation enough."

Amazingly she seems content with that answer, even though I am not, and snuggles closer to my chest, "So what now?"

I reply honestly. "I have not considered anything beyond this day."

A shiver runs through her body as I say this. "I would say more Vegeta, but…" her voice trails off, "you already know what I want."

There is a kind of awkward trepidation in her words, edged with the smallest amount of vulnerability, and I am unsure how to respond. A creature of habit and action, I haven't really had to choose. Under Frieza's control I had no concept of options, because as soon as one order was completed, the next would be given, meaning I was in constant demand.

The hope of having prospects was not something a servant of his empire was entitled to, and even when the megalomaniac was defeated I at least had the androids to train for, but now… now I have nothing, and it troubles me. "Yes…" I agree, "You want to humanize me, make me full of pitiable emotion, weak and the complete opposite of what it means to be Saiyan."

The fireworks dull, and we are all at once left in darkness, "No," she whispers, stroking a finger along the side of Trunks' face, "I had all that with Yamcha. I would not wish it back again."

"Then what?"

"I want you to stay," she sighs, "nothing more."

Her words confuse me. Maybe I was wrong about her intentions, maybe she knows me better than I thought. They curl around my head, as I realize the concession she has made in them, she could have asked for so much more, but she knew better.

The fireworks have stopped and my path is clear. Not knowing what to say I choose silence, and flying faster than I did earlier, being even more impatient to reach Capsule Corporation, we continue.

Sooner than I expected, the familiar buildings rise along the horizon and I have to alter my position in the air, in preparation to land.

We touch down, a little awkwardly, as I am not used to having passengers, and all at once my arms relax, perhaps to recoil from the balm that contact with her creates. As her feet touch the ground she looks caught, and even though I can tell she has so many questions left unasked, I can also see that her motherly instincts have taken over, making her incapable of stopping herself from rushing towards the living area in search of our mirai son.

Unfortunately for her though, I have one thing to say that will not wait, and mirai son or no, she will hear it. The solitary light from the kitchen window is the only sign of life in the building and so as the protracted direction of her stare, drifts to that portion of the house, I reach out to her hand, grabbing it firmly in mine and stopping any progress.

Surprised by the action, she turns to face me, her features twisted under the control of some indiscernible human emotion, "You want me to stay?" I ask, the conflict of my thoughts trying to find some mental safe ground.

She nods.

"Then you are willing to throw your life away, let me drag you down to my level, and allow me to walk all over you in the process? Because I promise you this Bulma, I will never be any different. I will not be tamed, not for you, not for anybody."

She raises a hand to my face, gently tracing my features with a finger, "I told you the other night Vegeta. I love you, not what I can make you… you! What you do with that is up to you. I'm never sure what is floating around that head of yours, but this is your decision…" a sadness clings to her voice, "I would never make you do anything that you didn't want."

The last part is barely even whispered and I can hear her breathing is ragged as we stand here caught in this moment. More concessions on her part, and I grit my teeth as her emotions are painful for me to witness. Lowering her head she turns away, her footsteps fading into the distance. I am now left on my own and I am thankful she does not require an answer straight away. It is not something I can take lightly.

As I am left in darkness I silently contemplate flying away to find a barren part of this miserable planet where no one can find me, and where I will be able vent my frustration with more aplomb than I managed with words. Somewhere where I can lose myself in the addiction of power, during which all of my thoughts and ambitions are at their clearest, but it is not an option I can take. My body is still broken from my fight with cell, and my energy reserves are pitifully low. More importantly than anything else at this minute my body needs sustenance and sleep. Maybe it will be able to relieve the aching of my mind as well, so breathing a couple of times to control my exhausted body, I follow Bulma's path to the kitchen.

I arrive, (unnoticed) just in time to see the motherly embrace, indicative to these humans, lapsing from its all too fascinating spell around my son's neck. Mother and son smile at each other. Trunks' cheeks are stained a bright crimson, and even though I am physically drained I allow a smirk of amusement at his embarrassment.

Passing the brat to her mother, Bulma sits down at the breakfast table, Trunks one side, and her father on the other.

"Hey mom!" he smiles, his voice full of enthusiasm, "Gramps has been showing me the plans he has made for the old Tayin's works… they look awesome!"

I confess that Trunks' easy way of falling into conversation, unnerves me. I don't know what I expected, but after seeing him laying on the desert floor with a gaping hole burned right though his chest, I thought that he might have been more stoic, perhaps, less happy. I expected to see the haunted look that I have seen from many a warrior after battle, a boy grown up beyond his years, and although there is a flicker of that, which he cannot totally assuage from his past, it isn't as apparent as I had thought it would be.

"Yeah!" she agrees, wearily rubbing her brow, "It's an ambitious move, but at least we can start planning it properly now, knowing that we do have a future." She smiles weakly, "I'm thinking of building a new laboratory here, closer to the nursery."

There is a dejection in her voice, tinged with fatigue, and it changes the mood as Trunks finally sees his mother's true state. Under that impression he gets up, lays a hand on her shoulder, and kneels down to look into her face. His hands clear a couple of bangs away, "I'm sorry mom," he says, looking to the floor, his words grown up, and full of unspoken meaning.

Bulma's tears flow again, but this time there are no sobs, and she strains to look through the moisture, blinking it back and looking with such pride at her son, "I know!" she says, her voice hoarse, but ultimately controlled, "I'm sorry too Trunks, but I will get over this."

She gets up, yawns and stretches slightly, "Oh man I'm tired!" she exclaims, forcing a smile, "I think I should go to bed. I'll see you in the morning, ok sweetie?"

Trunks nods his head, and with nothing more than a "night-night", she leaves.

At her departure, I decide it is finally time to make my presence known, so with as much dignity as my worn out and bruised body can muster I cross my arms over my chest. Even though the action causes a broken rib to send a shrill of pain through me, I still manage to walk out from the shadows with my usual authoritative posture.

By some sort of luck I manage to make it to the fridge without being noticed. Only the telltale click of its magnetic door, giving away my position.

I hear a squeak as my son stands up. "Tousaan!"

I leave the food alone for a second to look scathingly at him over the open door. There was far too much enthusiasm in that word for my liking. He ignores my scowl and rushes up to meet me, stopping at a yards distance, as his eyes scan my torn body. Instantly his face clouds with concern, "You're still hurt!" he exclaims, "Why didn't you come back with the others to the lookout, Dende would have been able to heal you!"

My lip curls, "I do not need anyone's help. My injuries are insignificant, they will heal soon enough."

"Yeah," he says, his mothers grin plastered all over his face, "I guess considering I actually died today, pretty much anything is insignificant. Aw man I can't get over how freaky that sounds!"

He says it so easily, and I admit that my stomach revolts, as the memories are all too recent, stinging me with the sight of his young body, twisted in death, and the wrongness of it all.

Not wanting him to acknowledge anything that I might have given away under that impression I speak again. "You still have a lot to accomplish boy." I pull out a plate of cold meat from the fridge, "I trust you have a battle plan for the androids in your timeline."

He scratches the back of his head, "Um… no not really. I was just going to wing it." His face twists into a smirk that is frighteningly like my own, and crosses his arms over his chest, "Its not like they are any match for me now, anyway!"

I snort, ignoring the bait, "Foolish boy!" I expostulate, "Physical strength doesn't mean shit without a plan! Haven't you learnt anything from being around real warriors?"

I can feel his ki rise, but it does not matter if he is angry at my words, I will not unsay them just to make him feel better, "So easy to wind up!" I smirk, "But do you really want to die again?"

He hangs his head low, as his ki dissipates along with his anger, "No." he admits.

"Then I suggest we come up with a battle plan and let you live." I snarl.

Walking to the table I brush the previous plans away, and pushing a chair to the side, encourage him to sit down.

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A tumult of suffering crazing around my mind, the pain of a thousand beatings, falling on my crippled body, as I try to control them all, tipping against the flow of servitude, culminating in a pain that will never end. Ki blasted, scorched, clinging to life by a mere thread, my body writhes to find some sort of comfort.

A face, as bleak as my life… a voice, as sickening to me as my own existence, mocks me, telling me that I am inferior, useless, the most pathetic creature his eyes have ever bared witness to. I am prince to a race of monkey's that will never amount to anything, because my people are all gone, and I am, myself, nothing but a joke. It makes my whole existence repel from the grandeur that I deluded myself that I could still be a part of, instead, showing me up as the lowest of the low, not having the chance at becoming more. A fool, stuck in this hole for all eternity, not ever having the chance to live, as I should.

Ripped and torn, struggling for breath the image becomes clearer to my fading vision, making my body convulse as the sheer hopelessness of my situation, meets its tormentor. Cold black eyes pull at mine, a merciless white hand wrapped tightly in my hair, making its point, and letting me see what it is to be weak, showing with merciless torture, that I will never amount to anything. That my father deserted me, left me to be what I would, not giving a shit about anything, forsaking his son and his people, to adhere to the service of a monster.

His breath flows sickeningly over my face, and his power burns through my body, reminding me of my position, engraving its authority onto my mind, showing to me how my life will always be, "My pet monkey!" it taunts, "Just look at yourself. How weak, how pathetic, such a waste of life, and full of so much pride and hatred that it is a delight to humiliate!"

My head rises and hand clamps over his, trying to set myself free, but my only reward is a foot over my face, pushing my head back down onto the metal grilling of the floor. I can feel the impact smashing my skull, and hear the sickening sound of my own blood dripping to the floor, as it is lifted again, "Worthless piece of shit! You will learn your place!"

Violently forced to meet with the floor again, my consciousness wavers, "This is what you are no Ouji! My slave. I can do whatever I want with you. You are under my control. No one can save you from this. You have nothing to look forward to, no hopes no dreams, just pain and suffering. This is you life! You deserve nothing more. You should be thankful that you are still alive! A pity the rest of your kind cannot say the same thing!"

Laughter spills around the room, mocking me to the very core, making the anger rise in my chest, giving me the power to scream… but it falls on deaf ears. I want this to end. Want to rise up and beat the freak with every ounce of strength that I can muster, but it will never happen. He is always one step ahead of me, there is nothing I can do, nothing but scream, as the pain courses through my body! "Bastard! Fuck you, fuck your kind, and fuck my life! Kill me… kill me… KILL ME!"

The visions fade, and all my thoughts huddle around this one mindset, "Take the pain away. Take it away, I do not want it anymore, let me die."

I can feel my breath wavering, the hollowness of my mind trying to cling on to anything, and then, like a lost soul, trudging up from the deepest recesses of HFIL I see something. Its touch evades me. So pure so totally opposite to anything that I am. Like a solitary star shining out in the darkness that surrounds me it offers comfort, pulling at my thoughts, daring me to touch it. It taunts me with its words of light, playing a cruel game with my body as it whispers so softly, "I love you… not what I can make you… you!"

It is different to anything I have witnessed before, so totally devoid of assumptions, but still doing my mind no good. Showing me up for the shit that I am, making me fall with crushing reality after its gentle embrace drifts away to look for something more worth its notice. So I fall… fall… back down to everything that I have done, back again to the pain and suffering that I deserve, that I wrought with my own hands. I want it back, so badly. I twist in the free fall trying to find the momentum to reach it, but it is of no use… it is gone, and once again I am on my own.

Roaring at the injustice of its mocking, the colors of red and black in this weird dimension, the chaotic state of this half world, swim in a dance away from me. It makes my stomach twist, as all too suddenly it ends. My body falling yet again, only this time ending up in the throes of dry-retching as my limbs make contact with kitchen tiles.

I kneel, bent double, as my mind tries to get a grip on my surroundings, the haziness of half-thought, steaming through my mind as cognisance and remembrance flow all too suddenly though me. The luminescence of spotlighting, rushes to replace the darkness and uncertainty of my dream, and I push my body from the floor, a sickness pulling at my stomach.

My hands skim through my hair as I look out of the window, trying to breath evenly, convincing myself that those visions were just the result of my shame in defeat, but they snag at my mind with their aptness at my present turmoil.

The sight of my mirai son, face down and sound asleep on the kitchen table, makes me realize that we must have fallen asleep whilst devising his strategy, so making my way quietly to the sink, I take a glass and fill it to the top, ready to leave. Something however, catches my eye, as I am about to go out to the gravity room to get some early morning training.

Out of curiosity I look down at the old man's plans for improvements, and sit down at the table, sipping the clear liquid, looking at what seemed so interesting to my son. The plans are well drawn and include a whole new section of land at the back of the existing buildings. I look at the schematics for Bulma's new laboratory, and despite myself, raise an eyebrow in approval.

Quickly though, my eyes fall on a part of the plan that I had not heard discussed. At first my mind twists in puzzlement at its purpose. It is a large building, but with no obvious detail. I look to the pencilled writing underneath it, trying to find out its purpose. The words that present themselves make my mind race as all they say is… "Permanent gravity room - pending?"

Under the weight of that 'pending' my head falls into my hands, and I pull at my hairline, trying to figure out what I should do next.

When I first arrived here I had no intention of staying for longer than it took to defeat the androids, but now they are gone, and I have no reason to remain, I find the thought of leaving, harder than I anticipated. The depths of space, now no longer have the ambition or prosperity behind them that I believed they would hold for me. If anything, returning to its infinity would create even more uncertainty than I have here. Were I to leave, where would I go? What would I do?

A small voice at the back of my head says, "claim your birthright… rule the universe as the strongest fighter in existence, and to HFIL with anything else." and as tempting as this is, I can't seem to feel any pleasure at the prospect. Perhaps it is because that deep down I know it is a lie. I hang my head and seethe in disgust as this day's harsh lessons, dig at my sanity, reminding me of the truth, I am not the strongest… Gohan is.

My shoulders slump, as my mind reels.

Grabbing the plans, I leave the kitchen and go back out into the grounds and towards my gravity room. I do not, however, have any intention of using it.

I stand before it, its curved structure an ominous shadow in the darkness, as a symbol of my future. What I do with it at this moment will change my life forever. So here I remain, standing at its base staring into its metal structure, trying to get my head around my minds complexity and figuring out once and for all what I want.

Bulma's words flood through me, over and over making my ears ring. "It is up to you now… your decision." Up to me… up to me to go back into the darkness that surrounds me, back to a life that I long for and yet dread at the same time. I hate this, I hate these human's, hate their planet, loath their feelings and compassion, and yet I do not hate them as much as I do myself for not being able to figure out what I am anymore.

I sink to my knees under the impression as my mind is almost made up. If I dare to, I can envisage myself as something I have always scorned, that I have convinced myself time and time again that I do not want, but despite all this, seem to offer hope. Deep down I think I have known it since the very first moment I touched her skin, felt the comfort of her arms, delved into a passion, the like of which I had never experienced before.

The sun is now starting to slowly creep over the city, haloing the buildings in the pre-glow of morning, and closing my eyes the visions of my dream intrude again, and Frieza's words scream out at me.

"No one can save you from this. You have nothing to look forward to, no hopes no dreams, just pain and suffering."

"You are wrong." I whisper, "Very wrong!" and all at once my mind is made up.

Raising a solitary arm, even though it aches with yesterday's exertions, I let a ball of energy spark into being on my open palm. As the power collects my features do not change, but my stomach twists inwardly. The energy streams through my body, spiralling from my hand in a stream of blue energy, and heads straight for the unsuspecting machine.

The explosion rebounds, detonating against the sky, turning the soft light into an inferno of red and yellow flames. They leap into the air accompanied with large chunks of the gravity room's metal frame. Falling to the ground in blackened defeat, they create a crater of destruction around the once perfect lawn. The release of power feels good, added as it is by a feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction. It reminds me that everything is not lost and that even now my wounds are healing, making my body more powerful than it has ever been, affirming to my mind that I will be the strongest.

My blood races, but I am soon brought back to reality as lights switch on inside the surrounding buildings. All at once the curtains twitch as the residents look out at the devastation I have inflicted on this peaceful neighbourhood.

Trunks is the first to make it outside. He comes tearing out from the kitchen, powered up to Super Saiyan, his eyes burning into mine. "Tousaan! What happened?"

I throw my head back, as I am lost to a feeling that flows out of control, tweaking all my nerves and muscles with a surge of adrenaline. "This is none of your concern boy." I say, when the feeling passes, "I have done all that I needed, now go back inside. I have to speak with your mother."

"If you hurt her I'll…"

I bring the back of my hand sharply across his face. "Your ignorance is painful son! I could no more hurt her than I could live without my ki."

I can see his mind trying to get around what I have said, and as he struggles to put a sentence together I leave in search of the only person I want to deal with right now.

In a blaze of panic Bulma has rushed out onto the balcony, not minding that she is only dressed in a thin silky nightdress. The anger, which always manages to make my pulse beat double, is written enticingly over all her features as she surveys the damage. I smirk at the opportunity it presents, allowing me to land unnoticed behind her, listening with no little hint of amusement as she curses me out under her breath, "What's the matter?" I ask, in full smugness, "It's much more worth looking at than any fireworks."

With a reflex that could only be described as catlike, she pounces on me, digging a finger into my chest, a blind rage shaking her whole body, "You asshole!" she screams, "Just what the hell are you trying to prove? Mom's garden is ruined! Fuck Vegeta! What the hell has gotten into you? I can't believe you would do this… asshole… asshole… asshole!" Her fists pound relentlessly against my chest, as she vents her anger.

I uncross my arms, mocking the ineffectuality of her blows, and although it only serves to make her angrier, she deserves it. She will never know how hard it was to do that, to turn my back on everything that I dreamt about achieving, and show the universe how much of a fool the Saiyan no Ouji is, not being able to part himself from a lowly human. So I let her carry on bitching, "Do you have any idea how long it took me to build that damn machine… huh? It took me weeks and thousands of zeni just to get it working properly. You jerk!"

Not saying a word I catch her hand just as it is about to slap me across the face. I hold it there for a minute, looking straight into her azure eyes. I can see that the usual sparkle is gone, and as the fire dances in their enticing depths, it is enough to make me push the crumpled plans I stole from the kitchen earlier, into her open hand. Her emotions have been pushed to breaking point, suffering too much already… I will not dull them any more.

For a moment she looks blankly at me, not acknowledging that anything has changed, but under my continued stare, she twists in my grip. Letting her go I turn away, giving her an opportunity to see what it is I have offered, not wanting her to witness any of the disgusting emotion that I can feel clogging my throat.

The silence that follows is agonizing in its length. For Dende's sake let her say something, anything that will end it!

At length my prayers are answered as she speaks, "Vegeta… what on earth are you doing with…?"

Stopping any questions I simply turn and point to the scribbled words at the bottom of the paper. Her eyes follow my direction and she gasps. Under some emotion she looks away, but I grab her chin, forcing her to look at my face.

"Build it." I affirm, almost choking on the words.

Her legs seem to lose all strength as I see the dawning realization spread fluidly over her features. "Vegeta…" she is holding onto the railings for support, "Vegeta what does this mean?"

"No promises," I whisper, "Remember that Bulma… no promises."

Despite my words I can see that the moisture is building in her eyes, and her scowl has lifted into something so much more able to inflict injury to me… she smiles.

"You mean this?" she asks, her whole body shaking, "Because I don't think I can't handle it if you don't!"

"I mean it!" I say, sending my soul to her though my eyes, finally speaking the truth as I see it now. "I may not be sure of my future, may not be able to see much beyond this day, but something has changed, and at this minute I do not ever want it back again... not if it means I have to lose you and Trunks. Whether this is for the best or not is questionable… I am as yet undecided. I may well have made the biggest mistake of my life, but I cannot repent, any more than you can stop the tears that cling to your eyelashes right now." My thumb traces across her cheeks, clearing them of the moisture. "It is a daunting prospect… the rest of my life, but a lot less so than something I have lived with during my whole pitiful existence… loneliness."

I breathe into her skin as my body disobeys my pleas for restraint and reaches out for its salvation. Her arms nervously circle my neck, and I glory in the feel of their satiny smoothness against my skin, as my words seem to have taken away any small amount of restraint she had left, and her body crumples against mine. Losing herself in my arms her tears flow over my shoulder, her body shaking, as it fights for control.

All at once I know, that perhaps for the first time in my life, I have made the right decision. I am Vegeta, Prince of the Saiyan's, and as weird and disconcerting as it feels, no longer all by myself.

The End

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A/N - Well I just wanted to say thank you for all your wonderful feedback, I'm glad you guys made me write one more chapter. I think you were right, it just needed this last one to fully round things up, and even though it was nothing spectacular, it was fun! So yeah this is the end, and I really mean it. I'm kind of sad its over, as I had so much fun writing it, but I still have "What Exactly is Involved in a Saiyan Mating Ritual?" to keep me busy lol. Oh and btw if you are wondering where the next chapter is, then I promise it is in the works, but I just felt like I had to finish this story first. Hopefully I will have chapter 17 up next week. *fingers crossed*

Well again, a big ARIGATO to everyone who reviewed… you guys are the best! The biggest thanx of all though goes to Jade *glomps Jade until she turns blue from lack of oxygen* I think writing this chapter would have sent me even more peculiar than I already am if I hadn't had your help gal! ~Ember~ ^_^