Farewell, Ch.2
BY: NikkiD
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Whoa! This was one hard fan fiction to write! I mean, Vegeta always seems to be arrogant, cold hearted and sometimes even cruel. Hard to make such a unemotional guy seem sentimental. But I did it! Or I hope I did. You decide. This fan fiction takes place eight days after the battle with Cell. See how Trunks, Bulma and Vegeta hold up after losing Son Goku.
Back below in Satan City, another warrior was grieving the loss of the Saiyan. Vegeta sat on the floor of a dark bedroom in Bulma's parents house, his eyes unmoving. He had been there for days, not eating any food and rarely drinking. He hasn't spoken a word to Trunks or Bulma, which angered the already depressed Bulma enough to force her to leave the house often, taking her infant son with her on shopping trips to the mall, leaving her older 'son' to stay with his father.
Marai Trunks was unsure on how to handle the situation. He hadn't known Goku-san as long as his mother has, or had shared the unusual sense of camaraderie with him that his father had, but he still did grieve. The man was so easy to get along with! So quick to smile or laugh.
Trunks was in the kitchen barefoot and garbed in a simple gray Nike T-shit and some beat up old jeans. A half finished can of Pepsi sat in front of him, it's blue skin shinning in the lights. At the moment Trunks was pondering what he should do with his wayward father. Vegeta hasn't said a word to anyone for days! He hasn't even eaten anything! Trunks muttered a curse and then downed the rest of the Pepsi, trying to think of a way to cheer up his father.
If that was possible.
Getting up, Trunks threw the Pepsi can into the trash and then turned around, hearing the familiar sound of his mother's foots steps as she headed inside.
Bulma walked into the kitchen, holding her infant son in one hand and two grocery bags in another. Giving Marai Trunks a weak smile, Bulma placed the shopping bags onto the table. Despite the expensive makeup that Bulma used, Trunks could see the bags under her eyes. Eyes that were red from crying. Bulma had known Son Goku ever since he was a little boy. They had gone through everything together... although both would say not in the best of company.
"Had a nice trip to the food mart, Kaasan?" Trunks asked quietly as he began to pack away the groceries. Bulma smiled as she put the infant version of himself into his high chair and helped her son unpack the food.
"It was alright. The line was not so bad for once. And the baby didn't fuss very much either." Bulma answered, opening a cabinet to put away the coffee.
Trunks nodded. "Did you see Number 18? She said that she might go."
Bulma shook her head, her mane of blue hair shaking. "No. I guess she changed her mind. Oh Well. Maybe next time."
Trunks sighed and turned around, his eyes downcast. "Kaasan, what are we going to do about Tousan? He hasn't eaten anything in the past eight days!"
Bulma slammed the cabinet shut, her eyes gleaming in fury. "I don't give a damn about what happens to that baka-yaro! He can starve to death for all I care!" Bulma yelled but then softened, seeing the pain in Trunks eyes. "Oh Trunks, I'm sorry." Bulma sighed to herself and looked downward. "It's just that your father can be so hard to put up with sometimes. He can be so closed-minded about things like this. It frustrates me when he shuts me out, you know?"
Trunks nodded, his dark blue eyes cast downward. "I know what you mean. But we have to do something... "
Bulma sighed again and crossed her arms, thinking. "I don't think I can talk to him about this Trunks. I don't know what it's like to fight in a
battle like that. I usually just watch and scream out orders" Bulma paused to smile ruefully. "But you do. I think you should be the one to talk to him."
Trunks's head snapped up, a hot retort on the tip of his tongue but couldn't nerve himself to speak, not against his mother. And despite how much he loathed the fact Trunks knew his mother was right. He was the best person to talk to Vegeta about this matter. Besides Gohan, (and his miniature version of himself) he was the last Saiyan and Tousan has always been more partial to him and Gohan then he has been to Krillyn and Piccolo. Nodding mutely, Trunks turned and finished unpacking the groceries.
An hour later Trunks found himself standing at the closed door of the bedroom Bulma shared with Vegeta, staring at the pale white paint, tense. Raising a trembling hand he carefully rapped on the door. "Otousan? I must speak with you."
No answer.
"Tousan? Are you awake?"
Still no answer.
Finally Trunks nerved himself to press the unlock button on the door panel and stepped inside. Trunks was surprised to see how dark it was inside, almost pitch black. The air conditioner was on high, giving the room a cold wintry chill. Once his eyes adjusted, Trunks could see that the large bed was empty, and looked as though it has not been used in days. And far off in he corner sat Vegeta. His eyes has bags under them from a lack of sleep and his hair looked listless and oily. There was a weeklong stubble growing on his face from a lack of shaving. Never has Trunks ever seen a more decrepit being. Here was the mighty Prince of Saiyans, humbled and torn.
"Tousan?" Trunks called slowly walking up to his father.
"I want to be alone."
Trunks blinked in shock. His father's voice sounded like a raspy growl, nothing like the full bass voice of the Vegeta he knew. "Tousan, this must stop. You can't continue living like this."
Vegeta glared up at his son, his tan face dark with disgusted anger. "Living like what?" he snapped, challenging Trunks to speak against him.
Trunks tried not to flinch under that gaze. "You haven't eaten in days Tousan. Kaasan and I are worried about you. I know you are going through a hard time but you can't let Goku-Sans death weaken you."
"I am not weak!" Vegeta roared, leaping to his feet. "And if you ever dare to speak that way to me again then I'll ... " Vegeta didn't finish the sentence, but Trunks could guess what he would have said. Not that it mattered. Trunks was used to Vegeta's empty threats.
"You really miss him, don't you?" Trunks asked, pulling up a chair to sit next to his father, expecting Vegeta to tell him to leave him alone.
Vegeta snorted in disgust and sat down again. "'Miss' is hardly the word I would use for that baka-yaro." Vegeta growled, his voice still scratchy.
Trunks nodded. "He liked you a lot, you know. He always thought very highly of you."
Vegeta blinked, surprised by Trunks's words. "Really? He said that?" Trunks nodded. Vegeta sighed and several minutes passed before he spoke again. "There are so few of us left. The Saiyan race has died out." Vegeta said, sounding remorseful for his dead empire.
Trunks nodded. Several minutes passed. Hastily raising his voice, Trunks spoke. "Tousan... Kaasan made steak today... just the way you like it. With fried rice, egg rolls, potato's... "
Vegeta held up a hand, smiling weakly. "Alright, alright. I'll eat." Vegeta stood, his eyes turning glassy for a moment and his grin turning mocking. "After all, Goku would laugh his balls off if he ever heard of me 'mourning' for him."
THE END
