Disclaimer: I own nothing. Dragonball/z and its characters belong to Akira Toriyama.

Author's note:
There's a little bit of background information that is needed to understand this work. The first is that this work takes place… maybe forty years after Future Trunks defeated Cell in his timeline. Yes, I do have him as being married and having a child, but I will not give either a name for various reasons (mostly so I don't irritate fangirls). Also, since it gets mentioned, I have a personal belief that someone who is half Sayian will retain a younger appearance as they age, especially if they've continued training. And, last but not least, it seems to me that Trunks might have difficulty readjusting to a 'normal' life after everythings over, making it difficult for him to interact with people, which definately plays a part in this.

Also, this is work was written to help me cope with my grandfather's passing, so there is definitely a more somber tone throughout it.

But enough about that, on to the story...

To those who have gone before us, your lives will not be forgotten…..

….

"It… it won't be long now…" the doctor told him quietly after exiting the room. "Myself, as well as the others who have seen her, have tried to make her as comfortable as possible. However, with her condition, it's unlikely that she realizes it."

He nodded slowly and remained silent. The doctor regarded him for a moment before speaking again. "Sir, wouldn't it be wise to advise her son of the current condition? Forgive me for speaking out, but it isn't right that he's not here for her final hours…" His voice trailed off as he noticed the steely glare he was receiving.

"That will be all, Doctor. Thank you for your help." Though his words were polite, his tone carried a deadly warning.

The doctor was taken back for a moment by the sudden hostility. M-Mr. Briefs, I apologize if I've insulted you somehow. I-I just don't believe that it's fair that you, her grandson, should bare this burden alone."

He looked back at the doctor and gave him the darkest look he could muster. "You misunderstand." The calm in his voice felt more like the momentary peace before a natural disaster than anything resembling comfort. "I am the first and only child of Bulma Briefs."

"B-but…. That's impossible! You don't appear to be any older than thirty!"

"I am fully aware of that," he said coolly. "If you want answers, I suggest that you investigate my father's family, though I doubt you'd find anything. Now, if you don't have anything else to say, it would be best if you leave. I would like to… spend time with her…." And, with a wave of dismissal, he entered his mother's room, purposely slamming the door behind him. For a moment, he grimly wondered if the doctor was going to continue to stand in the hallway like a fool.

After taking a moment to calm down, he took a seat beside his mother's bed. She was currently asleep, but it was nothing new; she had been like that for a couple weeks. At first, it had seemed like she had come down with a bad cold, but it quickly became apparent that it wasn't so benign.

The specialists who had seen her said that her body had worn itself out, and that it would not be long before it gave out on her completely. He had tried to tell him that they were wrong. She was a fighter, always had been, but they just smiled at him sadly and told him to make sure that all of her affairs were in order… after double-checking that he was really her son.

He glanced quickly at himself in the somewhat large (yet oddly modest for his mother) mirror that was part of her curio and gave a wry smile. His mother had always joked that it was due to her that he had kept his 'youthful good looks,' even though they both knew it wasn't true. But, even though she had led a hard life, especially during the era of the androids, it was still possible to see her beauty.

His mother was the most unusual human he had ever known, which was saying something. She was extremely willful and proud, caring and loyal. One moment, she could be running for her life, and, in the next, she could be designing the most advanced machine to have graced the earth. To phrase it more directly, she was a rock; one that had stood firm against so many different trials only to be eroded by natural causes.

It was so difficult to see her the way she was now. Frail and human were the only two words that came to his mind, which in the past, would have been the last words he would have ever used to describe her. Although he would never say it to someone else, he had rarely thought of his mother as simply human. She had dealt with so many things in her life… super-powered people (not necessarily human), crazy-world-destroying robots, and him. It just seemed like she was beyond the realm of just 'being human.'

Carefully, minding her IV, he gently held his mother's hand. There was no response from her. Although he wished that she could give him some sign that she knew he was there, for him, it was better this way. He had tried to promise that he would not cry in front of her, but even though he had seen so many horrid things, his emotions could not be contained. There was nothing he could do to protect himself from the pain of seeing his mother, his rock, like this or her impending death.

He was certain that if his dad was still alive, he would call him weak, but there was no way that he could hid his 'human' emotions. Times like this did not call for a warrior, but for someone who cared, even if the pain was almost too hard to bear.

A quiet but sharp intake of breath caught his attention. Concerned, he stood up and looked first at his mother and then the monitor beside them. Although her heartbeat was weak, it showed a brief sign of distress before going flat.

Shock was the only way to describe his lack of movement or thought. He just stared in a non-believing way at the monitor as it wailed mournfully at the loss.

"Mom…" he whispered softly after reality finally decided to crash back down on him. There was no response, though he didn't really expect one. He gently touched her face, his version of a farewell, and realized that there was a slight smile on her lips which somehow gave her a younger appearance. As strange as it might be, he took it as a good sign. She was finally at peace and would no longer have to worry about him or anything else about the mortal world.

"I'm… glad you no longer have to suffer…" he whispered to her as his voice shook with emotion. "I'll… make sure to carry on… not just for you… but for my family too." He gently kissed her still warm forehead and placed her hand on her chest.

…

A grim expression took hold of his features as he left the room. There was much to be done, allowing for little time to grieve. The warrior in him wanted to take charge, as there was much to be done. However, he pushed that rational aside and slide down the wall, allowing his grief to take control.

"What's this?" a voice that was accompanied by the sound of walking called out. He looked up for a moment to see a woman in her sixties accompanied by a young man with dark hair and light eyes approach him. "I never expected to see the proud Saiyan look so… weak…"

He knew the tone well as he had heard almost daily during the later years of their marriage: it combined mockery with anger to create something that was a kin to loathing. The fact that he had not adjusted well to the peace the earth had seen since he destroyed the androids and his apparent lack of aging had pushed her over the edge. Apparently, it took a special type of woman to handle someone with Saiyan blood, and he had not been able to find her.

"If you're just here to fight, could we postpone it a bit? I have too much to do," he told her as he stood again. Unlike he had done in the past, he did nothing to hide the emotion in his voice.

The woman appraised him for a moment before she snickered. "Oh, so you're once again just shoving everything… everything that makes you one of usaside again. Is being a weakling so hard for you?" She was about to say more when the young man stopped her. Both she and Trunks stared at him carefully.

"It's okay, Mom," he told her quietly, "I'll take over from here." It was clear that she was about to turn her anger towards him, but a stern glare cut her short which caused her to excuse herself. An uncomfortable pause fell between the two men.

"So… has she… I mean, uh… is she…" the young man stuttered as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say.

But Trunks understood and placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Yes, it already happened…"

The young man bit his lip before he hung his head. "We… well, I wanted to get here earlier… but, well, you know how she is. Mom really doesn't want anything to do with you anymore, save for the money…"

"That's mostly my fault…" Trunks sighed. He then appraised the young man's appearance. "You've definitely grown up well. I wish that I could have been there for you more, but it looks like that's something else I inherited from my father, bad parenting."

There was a momentary pause before the young man chuckled, causing Trunks to give him a strange look. "I never thought you were that bad. Sure, it was clear that you had a hard time interacting with us, but you tried. Isn't that what counts?"

"Perhaps…"

"Besides," the young man continued, still trying to lighten the mood, "didn't you tell me that your dad punched you in the gut the second time you saw him? If you use that as a comparison, you were perfect."

In spite of himself, Trunks allowed himself to smile as he decided to mess up his son's hair, much like he had done when the boy was little. "Okay, I'll concede a little. You know, your mother never believed me when I said that I actually met him in the past." His tone grew sullen again. "I don't think she believed most of what I told her… Apparently, you have to witness at least part of it to be able to believe in the impossible."

"You know…" Trunks continued after an awkward pause, "I've always wondered how your grandmother did it. I mean, ever since she got involved with this world, she's managed to handle everything that's been thrown at her and handle it better than most of us ever did. Although you'll rarely hear me admit it, I was envious of that."

It appeared that the young man was about to say something else, but before he could, someone approached them. "I'm sorry for the interruption," the person said with a small bow, "but, sir, you're needed. It appears that some of your mother's advisors wish to speak with you."

Trunks took a moment to run his hand through his hair before he answered. "I'll be there… momentarily. Would you mind letting them know?" The messenger agreed and walked off. Trunks watched him for a moment before turning back to his son. "Sorry about this, but it looks like I have to go."

Raising an eyebrow, the young man gave his father a strange look. "I thought that you didn't like dealing with things like this…"

"There's nothing much I can do about it now. Your grandmother's no longer here… so I have no one left to hide behind." A wry smile crossed his features for a moment. "Isn't it ironic that someone who's saved the world backs at the thought of dealing with normal people? But, it's defiantly time that I face it."

"Well then, let's go!" the young man exclaimed as he started walking in the same direction as the messenger had.

"….Excuse me?"

"I'm coming with you, isn't that obvious? You might know the mechanics of running Grandma's company, but you're definitely going to need help dealing with the people." He smiled and nodded to himself in a self-congratulating way. "I was thinking about it after hearing about her illness. You're going to be mostly by yourself, so wouldn't it be beneficial to have someone around who also has inside knowledge of the company that you can definitely trust?"

Trunks definitely hadn't expected such a response. In truth, he had never even thought about asking the boy for his assistance, thinking that their relationship wasn't close enough. Bulma had always told him he was silly for thinking that way, and it appeared that she was right, again. "And, what does your mother think?"

The young man just rolled his eyes. "Dad! I'm an adult now, so I'm able to make my own decisions."

"Yeah, but we don't want her to be angry with either of us, do we?" He then chuckled and started walking. "Well, I guess we'll have to discuss that later, since there's a meeting we need to get to. Oh, and I'm not entirely sure about this, so today's a trial run."

"Don't worry about a thing! Just leave it to me!" The tone in his son's voice reminded him for a moment of his mother's when she was just as certain, which caused him to laugh again. It appeared that the boy had inherited more from his side of the family than he had ever realized.

Trunks glanced back at his mother's sick room. Without a doubt, her presence and the strength it represented would be missed. But, just by talking to his son, he realized that maybe this was indirectly a good thing, for him at least. Yes, she had been his rock, but one that he had chained himself to. Without even realizing it, he had used her strength to hide.

It was now his turn. Though he was unsure where it would take him, he would allow himself to move forward for perhaps the first time since the androids had been defeated. He was going to use her example to help him do it. That was probably the best memorial he could give her anyways since it's always been said that actions speak louder than words.

Fin

It's been a while since I've written a dbz fic, but I'm very surprised to see that I wasn't entirely out of practice. Though, my generalized weakness in writting has resurfaced: a shaky ending. But, besides that, I hoped that you enjoyed this. And, please, don't hesitate to critique.