Hey, all! I know it's been a long time since I've updated—way too long for those of you are followers of this story. I thank you for your follows, your likes, your reviews and reads. They have brought me so much joy. This is the only chance I get to write within the day to day of my life, and I've been away from it for quite some time. I apologize if I have caused you any ill feelings during the wait for this chapter.

My life has become very busy and full in the best possible ways. Because of this, my stories, I'm sure, will not come around as frequently. But, when I find that rare and special time to write, I promise to share here on my profile what I have created.

So, without further delay, here is the final chapter to my first complete multi-chapter submission. I'm proud of this work in its entirety, and I hope all my readers have enjoyed it. As always, I encourage you to check out my other stories.

Thanks! Xoxo

Disclaimer: I am but a fan! I claim no ownership of DBZ or its wonderful characters.

X.

Family Portrait

"This is absolutely absurd. I should not be required to spend an entire afternoon-"

"Vegeta, seriously, stop being so difficult! It's one family portrait, and your refusal to sit, smile, or pose at all is the reason this is taking so long!" Bulma snapped at her grumpy husband, one hand on her hip, the other balancing her infant.

"The Prince of All Saiyans does not sit, smile and pose on command," the warrior countered, cheeks red. "Well, what are you looking at?" He added, making a fist at the clueless photographer, who was staring nervously at the pointy-haired patriarch, wondering distantly where the country of "Saiya" was located.

"Ugh, you're such a brute! Leave him alone. You don't have to smile or pose, just sit down, would you?" the scientist growled, eye twitching.

Cursing under his breath, Vegeta finally relented, agreeing to this compromise. "Fine," he muttered stiffly, perching on the couch next to his wife, posture one of extreme prejudice.

"Thank you." Bulma leaned back into her seat, adjusting Bra in her arms. "Now, say cheese!"

"Say what?" the Saiyan demanded as the photographer snapped a twenty-third unusable candid.

"It's just an expression! It means smile. Come on, you've been on Earth for almost twenty years now. Pay attention to human slang every now and then! I've learned all your weird words!" the heiress shot, flipping her hair.

"My weird words? What is that supposed to mean?" Vegeta insisted, standing up again.

"Like Oozaru, AKA giant-killer-monkey form? Or how about Zenkai Boost, AKA almost-die-get-magically-stronger! Given that logic, you should be the strongest man on Earth!" Bulma handed Bra to Trunks, whose cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"And what are you insinuating," the Saiyan hissed through gritted teeth, "that I am not the strongest warrior on this irritating planet?"

"Let's go get Goku and find out!"

"Erm, Mom, Dad," Trunks interjected timidly, his parents now forehead to forehead. "Maybe we should wait until after we take the picture to continue this…conversation." He glanced at the quivering photographer, who appeared to be beyond lost between all of the shouting and the murder, ape, and alien references.

Realizing her surroundings, Bulma cleared her throat. "Excuse us," she muttered, bowing her head at the photographer and reclaiming her seat. "We just get carried away, you know. Very…passionate." She cleared her throat a second time and sat silently.

Rolling his eyes, Vegeta also returned to his seat. "Let's just get this over with."

"Right, yes," the photographer agreed. Finally, he snapped an acceptable photo (although the grumpy Mr. Brief seemed quite set on refusing to smile). "You have a very beautiful family, Mrs. Brief," he said timidly, folding his camera up and placing it in his carrying case. "You and Mr. Brief must be proud."

Smiling, despite herself, Bulma nodded. "Yes," she said, looking at her children, then her husband, to whom she gave a teasing wink. "Mr. Brief and I are very proud."

Although he grimaced at the name, Vegeta also studied his family thoughtfully. He knew he did not deserve them—the crimes of his past were unspeakable, and could, perhaps, never be forgiven in the grand scheme of the universe. But, as his eyes lingered on his children, he knew he could say without any doubt or hesitation, that he, Vegeta, Prince of All Saiyans, had done something completely and undeniable good in his lifetime.