Author's Note: Holiday Grievances is a Vegeta/Bulma request from DBZAngelX and fulfilled by Ladii-Chocolate. Say what you will about this one-shot after you read it, but I think I like this one. I don't think it's completely my writing style to be making a fic like this, but hey, change is good sometimes. I happen to be a very adaptable person.

Summary: (VB) He had always been her special reason for living. She just never felt the need to tell him until it was much too late.

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ.

Dedication: I dedicate this fic to DBZAngelX, as it is her gift fic. Merry Christmas to her, by the way!

Inspiration: Kiseki by Koda Kumi, Lost Paradise by Bennie K featuring Tsuyoshi, Where Are You? by BoA, and Kiss by Crystal Kay.


Holiday Grievances

The first and only time she'd realized just how much of a complainer she happened to be was on Christmas Eve. She'd been situated in the sixteenth sitting room of her enormous Capsule Corporation manor, absently nursing her young infant in slim arms, when she'd suddenly become conscious about her secret career as the Z-gang's official whiner. Just reflecting on how many times she had grumbled while embarking on an adventure to collect all seven Dragon Balls, protested against her friends' reckless methods of fighting mortal enemies (but who was she to nag? They were the professionals, after all), and found fault within anyone and everyone in the near area seemed to shame her. Widened azure orbs displayed just how hard the sudden understanding had struck her; a trembling figure shifting in her seat to glance at the vacant spot beside her demonstrated that she had finally apprehended that he must have been aware of her complaining disposition a long time ago.

A subtle sigh laced with wistful reminiscing was released from slightly parted lips as she gazed down at her newly-snoozing infant. Sylphlike hands found themselves gently smoothing down his lavender locks with the loving intuition only a mother could possess; however, pastel pink lips kissed his tiny forehead in hesitance rather than affection. She recurrently willed herself to be stronger solely for her son's sake, but somehow, her inconsolable but bitter spirit almost seemed to urge her to gripe to her unmindful parents about how horrible he'd been in forsaking his family. Naturally, these actions would cause her to feel that he'd probably only left her and their son solely because of her lack for understanding his ambitions, and the sea of guilt would wash over her soul afresh. She instructed herself not to cry for her loss, but tear-bitten eyes always appeared to speak differently.

Rising up from her spot at the sofa and allowing weary feet to take her to her desired destination, she deposited her son in his crib before making her return into the family room. An ashen countenance despairingly gazed up at the ceiling above, noticing the single object that hung innocuously from it. Allowing a chaste smile to slightly permeate and strive to refresh an already lost soul, she could recall when she'd fastened that sprig of mistletoe – right before he'd left her. Now standing on the rounded tips of her toes to remove it from where it had been basically untouched for weeks, she knew she wouldn't be kissing anyone this Christmas. Staring at the trivial twig and absently clutching it close to her cold heart was akin to burning coals spread atop a deep wound; now she wanted to express her grievances to the world even more so.

But when she shut her eyes and held her breath like an expectant child on Christmas Day, the need for complaining seemed to cease.

Everything ceased to be.

He was suddenly standing there before her, looking as smug and arrogant as he'd always seemed to her. She was taken into his distant embrace almost as quickly as she'd first perceived his appearance; gazing into passionate coals the exact opposite of her dulling sapphires informed her that there had never been any need for her to cry for or complain about him – he had returned for her. Existence didn't mean much to her anymore.

Nothing mattered much to her anymore.

Beaming into his accustomed smirk, she wordlessly looped her arms about his neck and allowed him to connect his forehead and nose to her own. There she was, so close to him that she could feel his warm breath touching her lips teasingly; yet she couldn't possibly be any farther from him.

She wouldn't object, though. This was where she wanted to be. It was only here that she could truly be at peace with herself.

…The only sounds of complaint presently heard were from the abandoned baby in the other room.


Ending Note: Cookies go out to all who saw through my intricate hints and realized that Bulma had passed away in the mental sense before her actual physical death in this fic. Please review. This is definitely a one-shot, so please don't expect any other chapters after this. I was thinking of writing a fic similar to this one, however; perhaps I will still write it in the future if I receive enough feedback for HG. So, yeah. Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!

Ladii-Chocolate