...........................................................................................~* BROKEN HOME
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*
It all seemed like a dream to Bulma. In one evening, she had argued with Vejita and run off, therefore putting their 'relationship' in jeopardy, then she was cradling the body of her first and only son. She had, only a matter of hours earlier, been playing in the sand with the child, and now he was gone. Forever.
Vejita had remained strangely quiet and withdrawn throughout the whole thing, showing more concern for Bulma than for himself or his son. He must have figured that nothing could be done about Trunks, and he was right-- it was Bulma that needed his attention now. He didn't console her in the classical, come-here-honey-I'll-let-you-cry-on-my-shoulder kind of way (with the exception of that first night, in the gazebo), but rather was sure to always be there, watching over her. Bulma might have been unsettled by those knowing black eyes at any other time, but was too distracted and grieved to care. Vejita was there, and that was enough for her. It was more than she had expected, even. Waking up with him beside her every morning was more soothing than any meaningless words could have been.
But the morning of the funeral, Bulma woke up alone. The other side of the bed was cold and looked as if nobody had slept there at all. The shower wasn't on, and the house seemed completely still. Bulma couldn't even hear the gravity room running. A little bit concerned and more than a little afraid of Vejita leaving for good, she wrapped a blanket around her naked body (it had been a particularly poignant night for both of them) and slid out of bed. She had her hand on the doorknob when something caught her eye.
The doors of the balcony were cracked open, and Bulma knew that she had locked them the night before. She stepped away from the door and crossed the room to the balcony, where Vejita was most likely sitting on the railing, watching the employees of Capsule Corps. file into the building, groggy-eyed and gripping steaming cups of black coffee.
Sure enough, when Bulma stepped out of the house, she found Vejita sitting on the railing. He was dressed in only a pair of training shorts, which suggested that he might have been training during the night or had been planning to do so after breakfast. He didn't move when Bulma approached him and leaned on the balcony beside him.
"Were you training?" she asked quietly, following his gaze to the employee parking lot, where cars pulled in at a steady rate. She pulled her blanket tighter around herself, sparing them a peep show as they filed in to work.
"I had intended to," Vejita responded. "But I just... can't."
"I can hardly blame you." Bulma sighed and her eyes filled with tears. "Its going to be a long day."
Vejita heard her voice crack and fixed his eyes on her with mild concern. "You don't have to go, woman."
Bulma shook her head and stifled her tears for the moment. "Of course I have to go. I WANT to go. He was our son."
"Was..." Vejita looked angry for a moment, then it passed. "I will never get used to hearing that damned word. And if it comes from Kakkarott's mouth one time today, I'm going to blow up in his face."
"Please don't. He's my best friend, Vejita, and he only wants to help."
"Hn."
Vejita chose to end the conversation there and leaped off the balcony. Bulma, acting before thinking, gasped before she realized that he was floating in front of her instead of lying in a broken heap on the ground below. This action even earned her a smirk, something she had rarely seen since Trunks' death.
"Where are you going?" she asked, recovering from her initial shock.
"I don't know," Vejita answered. "Somewhere. I'll be back before the funeral starts, woman, don't be stupid."
Bulma watched him leave in a blast of blue light and stayed on the balcony for a minute before returning inside. Vejita was headed in the direction of the ocean, where they had found Trunks. Bulma's tears returned and spilled down her cheeks at the memory. It had been weeks, but the pain was no less. Every time she had yelled, smacked, or lashed out at her son was weighing on her mind like a load of bricks, and once again she wondered if this whole thing was entirely her fault. She had, after all, run away. She got suddenly very cold. She shivered a few times, then gave in and returned inside, alone.
Vejita had not returned by the time Bulma wanted to start getting ready, so she set about it alone, though questions about his whereabouts were lurking in the back of her mind. For an outfit she chose one of her old dress, one of her infamous 'little black dresses', and chose a pair of strappy shoes for her feet. Haunted with memories of her past and of Trunks, she grabbed a cigarette from her nightstand and took long drags as she readied herself in attempts to calm her nerves. It didn't work.
She was in the process of pinning up her long hair when the balcony doors slammed open and Vejita walked into the room, still dressed in the training shorts because of the summer heat. It was only morning, and Bulma was beginning to feel a little warm herself. On second thought, she threw all of her hair up. It would only add to her discomfort if she had a sweaty neck.
"What are you wearing?" Vejita asked, stopping to look at her dress. Apparently his memory hadn't faded any either. "I thought that you had tossed all of that shit a long time ago."
"I did," Bulma told him as she lined her eyes carefully. "But I kept some of them. Even at my worst I couldn't throw away a Gucci classic."
Vejita simply rolled his eyes and began searching through his side of the closet. "This is a ridiculous, morbid tradition. On Vejitasei we let the dead rest in peace and refrain from making everything a ceremony. It only adds to the pain." He pulled out a pair of black pants and then started searching again.
"You seem to be taking part in quite a lot of silly human ceremonies lately," Bulma commented from her position in front of the mirror. She finished her cigarette and grounded it into the wooden surface of the vanity carelessly. "Or at least, you've been promising to do so."
Vejita stopped long enough to shoot her a black look. "Don't start bitching about that again. Look where it got us last time!"
Bulma stepped away from the mirror, stung, and crossed her arms. Vejita seemed to realize what he had said and stepped out of the closet.
"Look, woman," he began seriously. "If you're still thinking that all of this shit is your fault..."
"Well it is, isn't it?" Bulma pointed out, close to tears. "You said it yourself."
"I say a lot of things that shouldn't be taken literally," Vejita admitted. "Blaming yourself for this is foolish."
"Then who's to blame?!" Bulma demanded hysterically. "Everything happens for a reason, and I'd very much like to know the fucking reason why Kami had to take my son away!"
Vejita silently watched as she began sobbing helplessly and slid to the ground next to the bed, leaning on it for support. She was obviously not thinking; her legs were up against her chest, revealing the pink fabric of her panties, and she was smearing the eyeliner she had so carefully applied. Vejita would have let her cry herself out of it, but then she whispered something that only his sensitive Saiyan ears could pick up.
"I wish that I was Chichi..."
She would have only whispered such a thing if she were seroiusly desperate, and this alarmed Vejita. It scared him, how much he was beginning to care for this weak, flightly little human female and their offspring. A few years back, he wouldn't have believed it. The Saiyan Prince knelt down before his 'mate' and seized her chin, lifting her eyes up to his. Her makeup had smeared all over the place, giving her the appearance of some kind of punk rocker, and her eyes were red from crying. But, in the Saiyan's eyes, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She met his eyes unfailingly, and Vejita was once again reminded of how rare a female like this was-- it was a strange thing for a female to meet his eye without fear.
"No you don't," he assured her quietly. "You hate the bitch."
Bulma shed a few more tears, then nodded solemnly. "I don't hate her... Did you know that when I came back into the house that night, after Trunks died and I went out on the gazebo with you, she talked to me? She apologized to me-- would you believe that?" Bulma smiled a bit through her tears. "I could hardly believe my ears. But I DO want to be her-- she has everything that I could ever hope for. Namely, a living child. Chichi would NEVER have let things get so out of hand, NEVER. She would never do drugs, smoke a cigarette, get a piercing, run away, ANYTHING. She raises Gohan so perfectly, and she's a perfect housewife. I, however, got pregnant so young, and besides that, I took up with you-- the last person anybody would have expected or suggested me to have relations with." She began sobbing again, her tears dripping onto Vejita's hand. "I'm such a failure-- even my own mother has said so."
Vejita raised an eyebrow. He couldn't help but be a little amused at Bulma's view of herself. All of those things were mostly true, but her claim of being a failure was, in his mind, just wrong. "Why the hell would you want to look like THAT? And do you think that I, the Prince of all Saiyans, would mate with a failure?"
Bulma's blue eyes narrowed. "No, but why--"
"That should be enough for you," Vejita interuppted. "Now get up-- if we're late for this thing then they'll be hell to pay." Thinking of Mrs. Briefs, Vejita shuddered.
Bulma smiled through her tears, took Vejita's hand, and allowed him to help her to her feet.
Vejita's efforts payed off, because when they pulled up to the cemetary, their car was the only one parked. A thick haze had fallen over the land as the morning dew evaporated, so they couldn't be sure that they were completely alone.
Bulma got out of the car slowly, trying to calm herself, but failed miserably and ended up stumbling in her heels through the tombstones and to the center of the graveyard, where the funeral director had left the coffin while he went off to make final preparations. The sad little box was surrounded by brightly colored flowers carefully arranged to please the eye, and the sight of the happy little things in the middle of so much gloom made Bulma sad, for whatever reason. She stopped before the coffin and fell to her knees amongst the flowers and let her arms fall uselessly to her sides. The realization that it was her young son in that horrible box was just beginning to hit her. The tears came back again.
Vejita emerged from the mist behind her silently, coming to a stop a little ways from the coffin. His eyes were locked on it as if he couldn't quite comprehend what was happening to him, the 'invincible' Prince of the Saiyans.
"Oh my Kami," Bulma breathed, her voice just barely audible. "Trunks..."
The horrible, wracking sobs came again, and by the time she got herself calmed down again, the sounds of cars pulling in could be heard from the direction of the parking area. The girl got to her feet, brushed herself off, and moved beside Vejita. Her makeup was smeared again.
Mrs. Briefs, Goku, Chichi, and even little Gohan stepped through the haze, their faces somber. Goku and his family stayed back from Bulma and Vejita out of respect, but Mrs. Briefs did no such thing. She gathered Bulma up in a bear hug, and Bulma noticed that her cheeks were wet with tears, too. It was no wonder-- Trunks had been her grandson, after all.
"I'm so sorry, baby," was all she said. Instead of hugging Vejita, she rested a hand on his shoulder and nodded. Vejita was grateful.
Yamcha, Krillen, and the rest of the gang arrived, and the funeral director after them. Soon enough, the ceremony was underway, and they were saying their last good-byes. Before leaving, Goku approached Bulma and Vejita solemnly. He looked more serious that Bulma had ever seen him, and she was happy to return his friendly hug.
"I would say sorry a million times if I thought it would make things better," he explained quietly. "But I know it won't. So I'll just say it once-- I'm really sorry, guys. He was a strong little guy, I'll tell you that much."
Vejita and he exchanged an unreadable glance, much to Bulma's amazement, and then Goku was gone, leading his (living) family back to the cars. Bulma was surprised when Yamcha boldly approached them, his head bowed.
"I know that I haven't been exactly, uh... supportive of your relationship and everything," he started nervously, avoiding their eyes. "But um... I'm really sorry. And I mean that-- even on my worst day, I would have never wished this on you. So um, I'm sorry." Before they had a chance to respond, he hurried away, his shoulders tense.
Bulma watched them all go forlornly, then looked up at Vejita, who's eyes were still locked on the small, sad wooden coffin that held the body of their son.
"Do you think..." she trailed off uncertainly, her wet blue eyes on the ground. "he'll be all right?"
Vejita didn't respond immediately. In fact, he didn't respond at all. At least not until Bulma turned to go back to their car.
"Even Saiyans believe in heaven," he admitted, meeting her eyes with his own. "Yes, woman, I think the brat will be all right." He turned back to the coffin again, and Bulma watched him for a moment.
"I love you," she whispered, then turned and retreated back to the car, uncertain if he had even heard her.
When she was safely out of earshot, Vejita sighed. The coffin loomed before him, a symbol of the first part of his life gone.
"I love you, too."
_________________________________________________________________________________________
(A/N): Well, that's it for this fic. Well, almost. Look out for the epilogue, which shouldn't take that long, considering I've been planning it for, what, weeks now? I want to thank some people for their faithful reviewing, namely BlueSaiyanChick, Felesseta, and Stef-chan. You guys are great! Now that this is mostly over with, I'll be updating 'Pitch Black' a hell of a lot faster! My apologies to those who have been patiently waiting for the next chapter, which seems like it'll NEVER be done. Don't worry though, its 3/4 done. So, until next time! And please, please, please drop a review!
Rhapsody~*
HawaiianBabay@aol.com
AIM Hawaiian Babay
________________________________________________________________________________________
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*
It all seemed like a dream to Bulma. In one evening, she had argued with Vejita and run off, therefore putting their 'relationship' in jeopardy, then she was cradling the body of her first and only son. She had, only a matter of hours earlier, been playing in the sand with the child, and now he was gone. Forever.
Vejita had remained strangely quiet and withdrawn throughout the whole thing, showing more concern for Bulma than for himself or his son. He must have figured that nothing could be done about Trunks, and he was right-- it was Bulma that needed his attention now. He didn't console her in the classical, come-here-honey-I'll-let-you-cry-on-my-shoulder kind of way (with the exception of that first night, in the gazebo), but rather was sure to always be there, watching over her. Bulma might have been unsettled by those knowing black eyes at any other time, but was too distracted and grieved to care. Vejita was there, and that was enough for her. It was more than she had expected, even. Waking up with him beside her every morning was more soothing than any meaningless words could have been.
But the morning of the funeral, Bulma woke up alone. The other side of the bed was cold and looked as if nobody had slept there at all. The shower wasn't on, and the house seemed completely still. Bulma couldn't even hear the gravity room running. A little bit concerned and more than a little afraid of Vejita leaving for good, she wrapped a blanket around her naked body (it had been a particularly poignant night for both of them) and slid out of bed. She had her hand on the doorknob when something caught her eye.
The doors of the balcony were cracked open, and Bulma knew that she had locked them the night before. She stepped away from the door and crossed the room to the balcony, where Vejita was most likely sitting on the railing, watching the employees of Capsule Corps. file into the building, groggy-eyed and gripping steaming cups of black coffee.
Sure enough, when Bulma stepped out of the house, she found Vejita sitting on the railing. He was dressed in only a pair of training shorts, which suggested that he might have been training during the night or had been planning to do so after breakfast. He didn't move when Bulma approached him and leaned on the balcony beside him.
"Were you training?" she asked quietly, following his gaze to the employee parking lot, where cars pulled in at a steady rate. She pulled her blanket tighter around herself, sparing them a peep show as they filed in to work.
"I had intended to," Vejita responded. "But I just... can't."
"I can hardly blame you." Bulma sighed and her eyes filled with tears. "Its going to be a long day."
Vejita heard her voice crack and fixed his eyes on her with mild concern. "You don't have to go, woman."
Bulma shook her head and stifled her tears for the moment. "Of course I have to go. I WANT to go. He was our son."
"Was..." Vejita looked angry for a moment, then it passed. "I will never get used to hearing that damned word. And if it comes from Kakkarott's mouth one time today, I'm going to blow up in his face."
"Please don't. He's my best friend, Vejita, and he only wants to help."
"Hn."
Vejita chose to end the conversation there and leaped off the balcony. Bulma, acting before thinking, gasped before she realized that he was floating in front of her instead of lying in a broken heap on the ground below. This action even earned her a smirk, something she had rarely seen since Trunks' death.
"Where are you going?" she asked, recovering from her initial shock.
"I don't know," Vejita answered. "Somewhere. I'll be back before the funeral starts, woman, don't be stupid."
Bulma watched him leave in a blast of blue light and stayed on the balcony for a minute before returning inside. Vejita was headed in the direction of the ocean, where they had found Trunks. Bulma's tears returned and spilled down her cheeks at the memory. It had been weeks, but the pain was no less. Every time she had yelled, smacked, or lashed out at her son was weighing on her mind like a load of bricks, and once again she wondered if this whole thing was entirely her fault. She had, after all, run away. She got suddenly very cold. She shivered a few times, then gave in and returned inside, alone.
Vejita had not returned by the time Bulma wanted to start getting ready, so she set about it alone, though questions about his whereabouts were lurking in the back of her mind. For an outfit she chose one of her old dress, one of her infamous 'little black dresses', and chose a pair of strappy shoes for her feet. Haunted with memories of her past and of Trunks, she grabbed a cigarette from her nightstand and took long drags as she readied herself in attempts to calm her nerves. It didn't work.
She was in the process of pinning up her long hair when the balcony doors slammed open and Vejita walked into the room, still dressed in the training shorts because of the summer heat. It was only morning, and Bulma was beginning to feel a little warm herself. On second thought, she threw all of her hair up. It would only add to her discomfort if she had a sweaty neck.
"What are you wearing?" Vejita asked, stopping to look at her dress. Apparently his memory hadn't faded any either. "I thought that you had tossed all of that shit a long time ago."
"I did," Bulma told him as she lined her eyes carefully. "But I kept some of them. Even at my worst I couldn't throw away a Gucci classic."
Vejita simply rolled his eyes and began searching through his side of the closet. "This is a ridiculous, morbid tradition. On Vejitasei we let the dead rest in peace and refrain from making everything a ceremony. It only adds to the pain." He pulled out a pair of black pants and then started searching again.
"You seem to be taking part in quite a lot of silly human ceremonies lately," Bulma commented from her position in front of the mirror. She finished her cigarette and grounded it into the wooden surface of the vanity carelessly. "Or at least, you've been promising to do so."
Vejita stopped long enough to shoot her a black look. "Don't start bitching about that again. Look where it got us last time!"
Bulma stepped away from the mirror, stung, and crossed her arms. Vejita seemed to realize what he had said and stepped out of the closet.
"Look, woman," he began seriously. "If you're still thinking that all of this shit is your fault..."
"Well it is, isn't it?" Bulma pointed out, close to tears. "You said it yourself."
"I say a lot of things that shouldn't be taken literally," Vejita admitted. "Blaming yourself for this is foolish."
"Then who's to blame?!" Bulma demanded hysterically. "Everything happens for a reason, and I'd very much like to know the fucking reason why Kami had to take my son away!"
Vejita silently watched as she began sobbing helplessly and slid to the ground next to the bed, leaning on it for support. She was obviously not thinking; her legs were up against her chest, revealing the pink fabric of her panties, and she was smearing the eyeliner she had so carefully applied. Vejita would have let her cry herself out of it, but then she whispered something that only his sensitive Saiyan ears could pick up.
"I wish that I was Chichi..."
She would have only whispered such a thing if she were seroiusly desperate, and this alarmed Vejita. It scared him, how much he was beginning to care for this weak, flightly little human female and their offspring. A few years back, he wouldn't have believed it. The Saiyan Prince knelt down before his 'mate' and seized her chin, lifting her eyes up to his. Her makeup had smeared all over the place, giving her the appearance of some kind of punk rocker, and her eyes were red from crying. But, in the Saiyan's eyes, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She met his eyes unfailingly, and Vejita was once again reminded of how rare a female like this was-- it was a strange thing for a female to meet his eye without fear.
"No you don't," he assured her quietly. "You hate the bitch."
Bulma shed a few more tears, then nodded solemnly. "I don't hate her... Did you know that when I came back into the house that night, after Trunks died and I went out on the gazebo with you, she talked to me? She apologized to me-- would you believe that?" Bulma smiled a bit through her tears. "I could hardly believe my ears. But I DO want to be her-- she has everything that I could ever hope for. Namely, a living child. Chichi would NEVER have let things get so out of hand, NEVER. She would never do drugs, smoke a cigarette, get a piercing, run away, ANYTHING. She raises Gohan so perfectly, and she's a perfect housewife. I, however, got pregnant so young, and besides that, I took up with you-- the last person anybody would have expected or suggested me to have relations with." She began sobbing again, her tears dripping onto Vejita's hand. "I'm such a failure-- even my own mother has said so."
Vejita raised an eyebrow. He couldn't help but be a little amused at Bulma's view of herself. All of those things were mostly true, but her claim of being a failure was, in his mind, just wrong. "Why the hell would you want to look like THAT? And do you think that I, the Prince of all Saiyans, would mate with a failure?"
Bulma's blue eyes narrowed. "No, but why--"
"That should be enough for you," Vejita interuppted. "Now get up-- if we're late for this thing then they'll be hell to pay." Thinking of Mrs. Briefs, Vejita shuddered.
Bulma smiled through her tears, took Vejita's hand, and allowed him to help her to her feet.
Vejita's efforts payed off, because when they pulled up to the cemetary, their car was the only one parked. A thick haze had fallen over the land as the morning dew evaporated, so they couldn't be sure that they were completely alone.
Bulma got out of the car slowly, trying to calm herself, but failed miserably and ended up stumbling in her heels through the tombstones and to the center of the graveyard, where the funeral director had left the coffin while he went off to make final preparations. The sad little box was surrounded by brightly colored flowers carefully arranged to please the eye, and the sight of the happy little things in the middle of so much gloom made Bulma sad, for whatever reason. She stopped before the coffin and fell to her knees amongst the flowers and let her arms fall uselessly to her sides. The realization that it was her young son in that horrible box was just beginning to hit her. The tears came back again.
Vejita emerged from the mist behind her silently, coming to a stop a little ways from the coffin. His eyes were locked on it as if he couldn't quite comprehend what was happening to him, the 'invincible' Prince of the Saiyans.
"Oh my Kami," Bulma breathed, her voice just barely audible. "Trunks..."
The horrible, wracking sobs came again, and by the time she got herself calmed down again, the sounds of cars pulling in could be heard from the direction of the parking area. The girl got to her feet, brushed herself off, and moved beside Vejita. Her makeup was smeared again.
Mrs. Briefs, Goku, Chichi, and even little Gohan stepped through the haze, their faces somber. Goku and his family stayed back from Bulma and Vejita out of respect, but Mrs. Briefs did no such thing. She gathered Bulma up in a bear hug, and Bulma noticed that her cheeks were wet with tears, too. It was no wonder-- Trunks had been her grandson, after all.
"I'm so sorry, baby," was all she said. Instead of hugging Vejita, she rested a hand on his shoulder and nodded. Vejita was grateful.
Yamcha, Krillen, and the rest of the gang arrived, and the funeral director after them. Soon enough, the ceremony was underway, and they were saying their last good-byes. Before leaving, Goku approached Bulma and Vejita solemnly. He looked more serious that Bulma had ever seen him, and she was happy to return his friendly hug.
"I would say sorry a million times if I thought it would make things better," he explained quietly. "But I know it won't. So I'll just say it once-- I'm really sorry, guys. He was a strong little guy, I'll tell you that much."
Vejita and he exchanged an unreadable glance, much to Bulma's amazement, and then Goku was gone, leading his (living) family back to the cars. Bulma was surprised when Yamcha boldly approached them, his head bowed.
"I know that I haven't been exactly, uh... supportive of your relationship and everything," he started nervously, avoiding their eyes. "But um... I'm really sorry. And I mean that-- even on my worst day, I would have never wished this on you. So um, I'm sorry." Before they had a chance to respond, he hurried away, his shoulders tense.
Bulma watched them all go forlornly, then looked up at Vejita, who's eyes were still locked on the small, sad wooden coffin that held the body of their son.
"Do you think..." she trailed off uncertainly, her wet blue eyes on the ground. "he'll be all right?"
Vejita didn't respond immediately. In fact, he didn't respond at all. At least not until Bulma turned to go back to their car.
"Even Saiyans believe in heaven," he admitted, meeting her eyes with his own. "Yes, woman, I think the brat will be all right." He turned back to the coffin again, and Bulma watched him for a moment.
"I love you," she whispered, then turned and retreated back to the car, uncertain if he had even heard her.
When she was safely out of earshot, Vejita sighed. The coffin loomed before him, a symbol of the first part of his life gone.
"I love you, too."
_________________________________________________________________________________________
(A/N): Well, that's it for this fic. Well, almost. Look out for the epilogue, which shouldn't take that long, considering I've been planning it for, what, weeks now? I want to thank some people for their faithful reviewing, namely BlueSaiyanChick, Felesseta, and Stef-chan. You guys are great! Now that this is mostly over with, I'll be updating 'Pitch Black' a hell of a lot faster! My apologies to those who have been patiently waiting for the next chapter, which seems like it'll NEVER be done. Don't worry though, its 3/4 done. So, until next time! And please, please, please drop a review!
Rhapsody~*
HawaiianBabay@aol.com
AIM Hawaiian Babay
________________________________________________________________________________________