Queen Luana: Another one, yes ladies and gentlemen, another one. And, unfortunately, the last one as well. Sorry. I bet some of you expected this one to go on for another four or five chapters but sadly enough no, this is the final chapter. Don't be mad, please. (puppy eyes)


Chapter VII

Clarity and peace

Vegeta blinked at hearing the clic, telling him the cassette had finished rewinding. With a sigh he took the headphones he had found in his son's bedroom and placed them over his ears, then pressed play and turned the volume up. At first there was nothing, just the rustle. Then it was sometimes interrupted, as if your listening to a radio but the reception is dreadful. He tapped his finger on the wood of the nightstand, his hands buzzing with agitation. Then finally she spoke.

"Veget…"

Her picture was still lying on his lap and he almost heard the words coming from her mouth.

"Veget… Don't let…"

He sighed sadly. Was she going to tell him the same she had told him before? "I don't understand," he muttered. "Don't let what?" She couldn't hear what he was saying, he was aware of that. But it can't do any harm and it may do some good. For a while only rustle filled his ears and he clenched his fists, begging and praying.

"Unks…"

He blinked, not sure of how interpret this. Trunks? What about him?

"Don't Veget…"

Vegeta swallowed and closed his eyes, sending a few more tears over his cheeks. "I understand," he whispered and with a quivering hand pressed stop.

Trunks stared at his mother on the television screen. She was there for him, he knew she was. She was there.

"Unks… Sweety…"

"Mum," he sobbed. "I'll keep you here. With me." He saw their reflection in the screen but he didn't care. Those three ghosts closing in on him, but all he cared about was his mother. This was his only way of keeping her and nothing would come between them. They had been parted months ago but now they were together and that was that. Nothing would change that. To him, nothing would. So instead he just stared at his mother's face, and took no notice of those shades, who were getting close, so frightening close.

"Unks… Don-"

Vegeta pressed the button of the TV and the screen turned black. Trunks blinked in confusion at the tiny white dot in the middle, slowly fainting to black and then at his father. He wanted to scream at him, because now his mother was gone. She was gone. But his father's face looked calm yet strict so Trunks did not dare to speak.

"Get your coat," Vegeta said softly and his body slightly shaking Trunks got up from the floor. As he looked at the screen and over his shoulder, he found that the spirits were nowhere near and yet, there was no doubt in him that questioned whether they had ever been. They had been real. And for God knew, they had been dangerous as well. And his mother would not have been able to protect him from them. That thought somehow sadened him. "Come on." Vegeta gave him a pat on the back and Trunks sauntered into the hallway.

While zipping his coat shut he chanced casting a glimpse at his father. Vegeta just waited at the door, patiently. Trunks slipped his feet into his sneakers and thrusted the laces into his socks. His hands were still shaking too badly to tie them. "Dad…" Vegeta shook his head and opened the door.

"Let's go for a walk, Trunks."

As they walked through the quiet cold streets both of them were confronted with how long they had lived inside a bubble, seperating them from the world, ever since Bulma's death. Everything seemed to have changed around them. Houses were build or broken down, and new unfamiliar faces inhabited them. Trunks didn't dare asking where they were headed. He had a hunch but no. He knew his father. He wouldn't go there.

Only he did.

Several withered bouquets were spread on the grey freestone of a rather recent grave. On the headstone was the picture of a beautiful woman, with long green hair. You couldn't tell though if you hadn't known her, for the picture was black and white.

Trunks pulled his sleeves over his wrists. This was the first time they had come to visit her grave. He had almost forgotten what it looked like. His father stepped up and whiped some of the fallens twigs and leaves off the grave. Trunks eyed him. One of them had to speak, say something. The air was almost surreal. "Why now?" he muttered. Vegeta straightened and casted his look over the many graves. They were the only ones on the cemetry. Apart from two fluffy little sparrows, picking a fresh bouquet on a nearby grave, there wasn't another living thing in sight.

"Bulma's dead." It felt weird pronouncing her name. He could feel it burning on his lips, yet he went on. "She has always been since that faithful night. We should accept that and learn to live with it."

"But the-"

"I'm not finished," Vegeta silenced him and Trunks stared down at the ground. "The messages. I think the reason she talked to you in the first place, was to tell you to let her go. She's somewhere else now. And we should leave her there in peace." Vegeta turned his back on the grave and put his hands in his pockets. "It's never good to meddle. And certainly not with the dead." The sparrows flew off, into the air.

The days after that, everything suddenly seemed to go better. Vegeta and Trunks did their best to tidy up the house, and succeeded in a matter of fact. Trunks had found a new hobby: fixing things. Whenever something in the kitchen blew up (a habit that occurred ever since he and his father had decided they were sick and tired of pizza's), Trunks would pop up in a matter of seconds, toolbox in one hand. Vegeta had resumed his training sessions, still not as frequent as before, but at least he had something to do again.

They visited Bulma's grave occationly. Whenever they weren't busy and the weather was nice they went for a walk together. And they talked. Actually talked. And life went on.

Vegeta clipped out the light and lied down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The past days seemed to have gone so fast. Him trying his best to make dinner, Trunks showing up every other minute to fix the damage he'd caused. Both of them would just snigger and none thought of Bulma at that moment. And that felt nice, knowing they had passed on. With and without her.

He turned his head and saw the picture of Bulma and Trunks on the swing, nicely framed and leaning against the nightlight. He remembered now. He remembered walking into the garden, camera in one hand, after seeing Bulma and Trunks on the swing, laughing. How she smiled in surprise as he suddenly hopped in front of them and took a picture.

With a soft smile on his face, he rolled over and drifted off.

The End.


Queen Luana: She is finito! About what, seven months later or something, it is finally finished. Sorry people, have had lots on my mind lately. Please review, be gentle.