This is a reupload from a previous account. I decided that I wanted my DBZ fics separated into their own account. Also, note that I wrote this before Super was a thing.

Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from DBZ or it's characters.

She's gone.

That one sentence kept repeating over and over in my mind. How could she possibly be gone? My woman was a fiesty one, a surviver. A human in body and mind but a saiyan in spirit. She wasn't supposed to be brought down by mere old age.

I had never verbally told her how I felt for her, how I cared about her. I assumed my actions spoke volumes when I sacrificed myself in battle to make the world a more peaceful place for her and the boy. I assumed that she could see the emotions running through my eyes, but what if she didn't? What if, because I never told her, she never knew?

All of her friends are here. I'm not looking at them, for I can only stay frozen, keeping my eyes trained on her pale, white body lying cold in her deathbed, but I know that they are pitying me. I can feel it deep in my bones, yet, their pity doesn't make me angry as it usually would. I feel suprisingly numb.

I feel my daughter's hand on my shoulder, trying to comfort me, however I still did not move; my body felt weighed down by something stronger than any gravity level I'd ever trained in.

My son appeared on the other side of me, not touching me as my daughter was, but offering comfort with his presence all the same.

I wondered if they knew. Did the same unspoken words ellude them as I suspected it did my woman?

My daughter moved to stand in front of me so she could look me in the eyes. I searched her blue orbs, so much like her mother's, for any trace of what I'd never bothered to look for in the past. I could see it, there, in her face, her expression. She knew. Did my son know as well?

Finally able to move slightly, I turned to look at my son. His eyes, also so much like his mother's were, revealed the same thing that my daughter's had, only a bit more difficult to identify at first glance. So he knew as well.

I moved past them, walking closer to the casket. How I wished I'd be able to read her face as I had just read my children's, but I knew it would never be so. I would never see her again, not even in the afterlife. Someone such as herself would have gone to heaven, of that I was absolutely positive. As for myself, I knew that after all the death and pain I've caused over the course of my life, that surely I would go to hell. I doubted that even the greatest atonement would spare me at this point.

With a feather-light touch, I reached towards her face, stroking it gently. Her skin was cold and brittle, the complete opposite of the warm and soft skin I'd felt the very first time I'd touched her.

I closed my eyes as I felt the onslaught of silent tears spring to my eyes. She was the only one who could do this to me, and she had no idea that she had that power.

Tenderly, I leaned down and kissed her forehead, not caring who was watching.

"I love you, Bulma."

Thanks for reading!